text:
	Rain.  The sound it made had always been pleasant to listen to in the comforts of his home, fond memories of warm blankets and endless cups of hot chocolate.  Of afternoons smelling the fresh scent it brought to the suburbs.  The squelching sound cars made as they drove by, disturbing puddles into waves of water.  There was none of that here.  Overhead the soaking branches blotted out the few stray bolts of lightning that flared by, casting dark shadows on the needle carpeted ground.  The tarp overhead was threatening to collapse which would not really matter too much except to drive the last of his sanity into the darkness.  There was no fire to cast warmth in the gloom or light to see by, only the occasional brilliant flash above in the roiling sea of clouds.  Vacation? This was torture, plain and simple.

	The great outdoors they said.  Get outside and connect with who you really are.  It had all sounded like a good idea even as he had been browsing through the gear at the local sporting goods store.  There is something about buying emergency equipment that is comforting even though we rarely give thought to what has to happen before we need to use it.  The disaster must come to make this purchase worthwhile... yet it wont or so we tell ourselves.  All that comes to mind is the sunshine, endless hours by the lake, the fine fishing, and the stories we will have to tell, hopefully without including being chased by hungry bears.  Yet all had seemed well there in that well lit place of gear heads and big dreamers from the city.  He had felt a little out of place if he was honest with himself, here he was, another office working slave, desk jockey, paper pusher, in a sea of tanned hides, sun bleached hair, and cut off synthetic shorts that promised to repel the needless swarms of mosquitoes.

	It had not mattered though as this was just another chapter in the big adventure book that is life.  So with his wallet partially emptied and mind full of fancy ideas and powerful dreams, he had stepped out of the door and into the vast unknown.  Packing had been easy, open bag, shove in things that looked useful, close bag.  He, being ever the analytical type, had spend a few hours making a checklist, weighing the pros and cons of each item with his limited experience, and after a few revisions, adding it to the supply list or dumping it on the counter to be forgotten about or thrown in the car at the last minute with the thought of "why not".  He had no experience with this but the guides he had read online had told him that "lighter was better" and that "You should be prepared for anything", two mantras which seemed to be directly at odds with each other unless you could make everything out of pure titanium which did not seem practical or cheap.  Whatever, he knew how to make a fire, how to stay out of the rain and if all else failed cells phones seemed to work everywhere.  What was the worst that could happen? This was the 21st century and mankind had conquered everything but death by beheading.

	The road up to the trail had been a long one, full of twists, turns, and the occasional pothole that should have sent his car into the alignment shop just at the sight of them.  There were no other vehicles up here and truth be told that kind of excited him as the city with its endless hordes of people was apt to get on anyone's nerves after enough time.  The parking lot, or pushed down patch of bushes that passed for it, was the start of the grand adventure.  Our man got out, put on his boots, double checked his pack, and sifted through the random assortment of extra things he "might need" to see if anything worth taking had shown up. The pack was heavy enough and an extra flashlight did not seem to be necessary so he shouldered his burden, locked the car, and set out on a journey the tan people had told him would be the perfect end to the long hot summer.

	Four hours had passed.  The trail had been steep and treacherous, with rocks trying to trip him every other step and the tall bushes hiding all manner of dangerous creatures.  His supply of fruit gusher candies had only lasted the first hour and the straps from the bag of burden seemed to be committed to sawing him into three pieces.  His water was getting very low and he had not yet seen a stream or lake to refill at.  He had packed that filter right?  Who knows he would find out when he arrived if that ever happened.  If he did not die of starvation, snakebite, bear mauling, or sucked dry by the swarms of mosquitoes first.  How had he failed to foresee that?  The greedy, whining, blood sucking, creatures were everywhere and he failed to see once again their purpose on earth other than to drive every blood carrying creature to its grave through simple removal of their sanity.  The bug spray tasted like death itself and smelled as if the janitor had dumped the bathroom sanitizer down his shirt.  It did seem to help though and after a few hours he would have eaten it if the results were any more promising that what was advertised on the label.

	Up. And up, and up, the trail in all its dirt covered, loose gravel filled glory always seemed to go up without end it made you mad just thinking about it put your head down, breath, watch the ground go by never catch your breath why wont you stop going up?  It seemed as undeniable as the fact that he was indeed getting sunburnt as he had taken of his shirt within the first 5 minutes to relive the river of sweat shooting down his spinal cord, soaking him through.  The man at the store had promised him that the pack offered extra "breathability", which apparently meant that 1% more sweat would evaporate as opposed to having a tarp wrapped around you inside of a sauna.  One boot hit the ground and then the other, various pains shooting up in every place imaginable, feet, straps, bugs, burns, dirt in the eyes, the man was by all definitions, in a state of uncomfortable duress.

	Life has a way of apologizing for the crap it throws at us, or that we put ourselves through for one reason or another.  As he crested the hill in front of the him, the third false summit disappearing behind, the world opened before his eyes.  From one end of the horizon to the other, in uninterrupted beauty, lay what seemed the entire world.  Mountains and valleys, lush and filled with green, cut through by winding rivers that cascaded down their slopes to end up in the cool blue stillness of an alpine lake.  The breeze coming up the slope in front of him was worth a kings ransom and the powerful rays of the sun no longer seemed to effect him in the slightest.  The view was staggering and for a moment, all the pain of the trail itself was forgotten in the shear enjoyment of that moment, the first sight of mountains.  He stood there for a long moment, soaking it all in, knowing that this was a sight few people ever get the privilege to see other than on the back of postcards they feel obligated to send their family when on vacation in a subconscious need to make them feel jealous.

	Reality set in soon afterwards, chasing natures apology letter with more scorn and derision as our human settled his pack on his shoulders once again and resumed the trek into the unknown.  The view was still there, the sun beating down as it slowly made its way towards the horizon.  Camp was a long way off, he didn't exactly know where, but the top of a ridge seemed like a bad place to spend the night.  There were a few clouds forming on the peaks across a few valleys, the ominous front slowly marching towards him.  The weather forecast had promised that the skies were going to be clear the entire weekend but the promises of the media suits and the will of nature go at odds more often than a greedy, whining child and a divorced parent in a toy store.  He figured he had gone about nine miles by this point but had no real way of knowing.  He had not foreseen the need for maps as the trails were supposed to be clearly marked and reading them would probably not have helped his cause anyway.  Guesswork was as good as it was going to get and he tried not to overestimate his progress but he had been outside for a long time.

	The trail swooped down into the valley, the tall sentinel pines stopping all hints of the wonderful breeze that had graced him atop the ridge yet mercifully blocking out the rays of the setting sun.  Time was slowly passing as he descended on tired feet, the sound of a river in the distance beginning to register in his ears.  Off down the slope a bush shook furiously, releasing a small buck from its tangled mass to go bounding down the hill, white tail symbolizing the danger our traveler presented.  He smiled at that, thinking that he of all people, a sallow excuse for a human being was somehow on top of the food chain.  At least until he remembered the bears.  Perhaps he was not as mighty as the whitetail assumed.  If only the bears thought the same way, the woods would become a much less spokey place.

	Dusk had arrived as had the river, a twenty foot current of frothing water, ice cold, that promised life for all those who lived near it.  Our office worker decided to make camp here where the water was plentiful as the sun was not making its way through the trees anymore and the chirping of the crikets was growing louder.   A tarp and a sleeping bag had seemed like the lightest sleeping equipment that would keep him dry and he was not worried as the chance of rain was low tonight but he set it up anyway.  A small fire and a can of soup became dinner, washed down with some hot chocolate and a few cookies he had stashed away as a treat.  He sat and waited for night to fall, tired and sore from the trek, the sound of the river in his ears, the evening dusk holding many unknowns beyond the dim circle of light cast by his meager fire.  It had been a long day, and as the night approached he though back over all that had happened as was grateful for it.  Sure he felt like he had met a semi on the highway in the wrong lane but the views made it worth it and the solitude was delicious.

	Sleep was as distant as a winters snow, a few stars poked through the branches above, and some of the more desperate mosquitoes insisted on claiming a midnight snack.  The ground as it turns out is not the most comfortable of beds especially when compared to his adjustable foam mattress back at home.  There always seemed to be a rock resting on one of his ribs or a sharp stick seeking out a bit of skin.  Yes, this was the life indeed, to lie tired and restless on the cold, hard, earth, enjoying the embrace of mother nature.  He wondered as he had for not the first time that night, whether bears were nocturnal or not.  Did fire really keep them away?  Should he keep it burning the entire night?  That would have involved getting up many times during the night he thought, not that it mattered as sleep was apparently reserved for those who had four walls and roof above their heads or a ready supply of ambien.

	Then it began.  It was light at first.  Just a gentle pattering in the dust around him.  A prattle of sound on the tarp above his head.  He awoke from his light sleep, found his headlamp and sighed.  The greedy child had gotten his toy.  The fire was nothing more than a few smoldering coals and he had nothing light to put in it on hand in an attempt to start it again.  He stood to go get more wood when the skies themselves opened up above him.  The entire cloud it seemed was eager to smash him out of his hole, wash him into the river and drown his memory from the mountain.  The deluge was as ferocious as a waterfall, soaking the ground in moments.  The trees did nothing but collect the water, making the droplets larger, then sending them smashing into the ground, spraying bits of mud everywhere.  His campsite was soon host to a network of small canals like a lake behind a burst dam exploring all the lands it had so long been denied visiting.

	He stood, lost, unable to make a decision about where to go next.  Stand here and hope it passes?  Move out and get soaked and freeze to death?  There were no good answers and that rain poncho he had seen at the sporting goods store suddenly seemed to be worth far more than the $40.00 they had been asking for.  He was beginning to question the entire experience itself, the "adventure", the journey, whatever you wanted to call it, was there any wonder mankind had moved itself to the city!?  This was life before we realized how to stack bricks and harness the power of electricity!  To think that people did this for fun... and on their days off of work no less.  The whole outdoors thing was making less sense by the minute, the idea of spending time destroying your body on the trail just to stand, partially soaked and freezing for an entire night.  Existence was painful, and the wonder of nature was completely lost on our weary traveler.

	Twenty minutes passed.  Perhaps it was thirty, maybe like someone lost in solitary confinement time had ceased to be without meaning and the night itself had flown before him with the sun to rise and break the rain at any... did it matter?  It was raining and he was wet, tired, and getting cold.  The rain had not stopped, endless sheets of it still pelted down where he stood, in his makeshift tent.  He had to do something.  Corporate was always telling him to "make it work" even if he did not have a clue how.  Fine, he thought, its time to move on.  He shouldered his pack, wrapped the tarp around himself, and began to slog through the mud, his headlamp barely piercing the curtains of water and darkness around him.

	Time moved,  It had to as he was still moving.  He did not really understand much at that point as his body had reverted into a survival pattern to "move left foot, don't fall, move right foot".  He had a  phone somewhere he could have checked the time on but taking it out would have risked ruining it and he would have to remove his tarp which he could not afford to do.  One foot hit the ground in front of the other and the thought slowly crossed his mind that not all was ill with the world.  He was tired but warm, he had food to eat and water to drink, and he was still in one piece.  The air was humid but chilly, the rain had let up for the most part but was still enough to require being covered.  It was peaceful in a way, with nothing to do but simply walk.  As the miles passed in thoughtless, tired silence, the quiet of a new dawn slowly stole over the world, its promises of a renewed life brilliant on the horizon.

title: Bored at 2 am, first short story! [AA]

question: What does the story say about the narrator's adventure?

answer: The narrator has no experience in mountaineering and decides to try it. He finds a guide and paks his bag. The road up to the trail is long and full of twists and turns. Finally, he parks his car and starts climbing a steep trail. His supply of fruit gusher candies had only lasted the first hour, his water was getting very low, and mosquitos are biting him. He is climbing for hours. The camp is a long way off, and he does not exactly know where and does not have a map, but the top of a ridge seems like a bad place to spend the night. Suddenly, it starts raining heavily, and his campsite is wet. He is waiting for 20-*30 minutes and then decides towalk. He is walking the whole night until down.

question: What does the story say about how the narrator prepares for the adventure?

answer: The narrator reads the tips for preparing for the adventure. He spends hours a few hours making a checklist, weighing the pros and cons of each item with his limited experience, and after a few revisions, adding it to the supply list or dumping it on the counter to be forgotten about or thrown in the car at the last minute with the thought of "why not". He had no experience with this but the guides told him that "lighter was better" and that "You should be prepared for anything". Then he packs his bag.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's school?


split: test

text:
The Betrayal

When did it all begin? Where it always does I suppose, with the vows. Do you take this woman, to have and to hold in sickness and in health? Bullshit! Michael thought to himself. It ought to say are you taken with this woman. That’s exactly what he had been with Irene…. Taken! The better question he thought to himself as he sat there, alone in the waiting room was where did it all go wrong?

	Sitting there alone in the twelve feet wide by twenty-three foot long white box. Michael sat in the same waiting room chair that decorated every waiting room across the country. Two plastic arm supports thinner than any person’s forearm he had ever encountered. Who the fucks arm is this suppose to support? A predetermined back angle as if everyone set with the same posture. Michael was angry, not with the room although it did irritate and enrage him for many reason but no, Michael was angry at life and how his had turned out in particular.

	Sitting there in only chair in the white, picture less, waiting room Michael rotated his wedding band between his fingers like a magician does before making the coin disappear, starting at his pinky finger ending at his index finger before starting the process over again. One might look upon Michael as if he was lost in thought had they walked in on him, but he was not lost in thought for Michael knew exactly where his thoughts were at. They were on the wedding band, for that he surmised is where everything went wrong.

	A white gold band size ten in his case, with ten little diamond chunks set inside the band itself when it was purchased. It of course was bought as a match to Irene’s. He remembered the event like it was yesterday and not ten years ago. They had been in the mall and both spotted the Kay’s sign and went in. Irene and Michael were doing it backwards, they had married just hours earlier at the Bell County, Courthouse.

	Her face lit up when she saw the one carat diamond, it was one of the many smiles he would see on her face during the first two years of their marriage, but like everything else in life even the smiles fade he thought. The woman behind the counter Camille, Michael never forgot the name of a person that made Irene smile. It was a blessing back then and a curse as of the last few years. Camille placed the ring on Irene’s finger with all the tenderness and caring that Michael did not get to do back at the courthouse.

	He had to admit that when he first looked at the rings on their hands after they purchased them. “No need for bags he had told Camille! We will wear them out give everyone a chance to see an ordinary ring on an extraordinary woman!” Irene use to eat up his compliments back then no matter how cheesy he thought they sounded, she would always smile or squeeze his arm tighter. Yes, even he believed in the happiness they represented when they walked out of the store ten years ago to the day.

	Looking at the weathered ring now brought him back to a sobering reality. The scratches some deep, some minor, the diamond that fell out once and was replaced. It fell out again along the years and like most stuff in life you get tired of trying to fix it and you let it be. In some ways the wedding band had outlasted him. It was still on his fingers albeit worn and beaten but still there. Michael wished he could say the same for his Irene.

	He thought about how if he had never bought her the ring or stood in front of that justice of the peace then there would have never been broken promises. There never would have been late nights. There never would have been whiskey on his breath. Most of all Michael thought there never would have been him.

	Hindsight’s twenty/twenty his father had told him. Bill, his name was Bill. He had never had such rage in his heart for any name as he did for that name. The name that stripped everything from him, his life, his passion…his soul mate. He had never met the face behind the name; Irene had not afforded him that opportunity. Michael chose not to dwell on the memories of Bill; after all he had so few only the details that Irene had provided him before waling out of his life.

	She told him only enough so that he could understand why. Irene had not wanted to hurt Michael so she left out how they met after all that wasn’t important. What was important is that they met. Michael sat there in the only chair in that white picture less box of a waiting room when the buzzer sounded signaling that one patient was coming out and the next one would be buzzed in. A woman who looked to be about twenty three exited the room casually glanced at Michael before leaving.

	Michael stood slowly wondering if the blonde had smelled the whiskey on his breath as she passed by. If she had then she had not let on. She probably had problems of her own. The doctor stepped into the doorway bridging his office and the waiting room glancing up from his clipboard to pronounce Michaels name. Michael pointed the 357 Magnum Solid Black Revolver, one shot rang out and as the Doctor slumped to the floor Michael turned the Revolver toward his temple squeezing the wedding band tight in his left hand pulling the trigger with his right. One Shot rang out in the room as Michael’s lifeless body fell to the floor.

     The size ten white gold band rolled out of his hand…..ending where it all began.

title: [RF] The Betrayal

question: What does the story mean when it says that Irene and Michael were "doing it backwards"?

answer: They bought their wedding rings after getting married, whereas usually the rings would be bought before the marriage takes place.

question: Why did the ability to remember the name of anyone who made Irene smile become a curse in the last few years?

answer: It is implied that it is because another man (Bill) has been making Irene happy, whereas Michael no longer has.

question: Why does Michael shoot the doctor?

answer: Presumably the doctor is Bill.

question: What is the titular betrayal?

answer: The fact that Irene cheats on Michael with Bill.


text:
BEIRUT (AP) — Syria launched a long-anticipated assault to crush the opposition in the rebellious north on Saturday, bombarding its main city with tank shells from all sides and clashing with rebel fighters struggling to hold back an invasion.

President Bashar Assad rejected any immediate negotiations with the opposition, striking a further blow to already staggering international efforts for talks to end to the conflict. Assad told U.N. envoy Kofi Annan that a political solution is impossible as long as "terrorist groups" threaten the country.

The opposition's political leadership has also rejected dialogue, saying talk is impossible after a yearlong crackdown that the U.N. estimates has killed more than 7,500 people. That makes it likely that the conflict will continue to edge toward civil war.

Syrian forces have been building up for days around Idlib, the capital of a hilly, agricultural province along the Syria-Turkey border that has been a hotbed of protests against Assad's regime.

Saturday morning, troops blasted Idlib for hours with dozens of tank shells as the forces moved to encircle the town, an Associated Press team in Idlib reported.

Families fled their homes, carrying blankets and a few other meager belongings. Others huddled in homes.

Rebel fighters rushed through Idlib's streets, taking cover behind walls to fire on the attackers with automatic weapons, the AP team said. Trucks sped wounded fighters to clinics, and men on one street destroyed speed bumps with shovels so ambulances could drive faster. Many low-level soldiers in the area have joined the opposition and fight along with civilians who have taken up arms as part of the loosely organized Free Syrian Army.

Many fear the offensive in Idlib could end up like the regime's campaign against a rebel-held neighborhood in the central city of Homs. Troops besieged and shelled Baba Amr for weeks before capturing it on March 1. Activists say hundreds were killed, and a U.N. official who visited the area this week said she was "horrified" by the destruction in the district, now virtually deserted.

Late Saturday, Idlib activist Fadi al-Yassin said the army had closed off the city's main exits, making harder for civilians to flee. Rebel fighters destroyed six armored trucks in an ambush and shot down one helicopter with a high-caliber machine gun, he said.

Al-Yassin estimated that the city has as many as 1,000 fighters, but that they have mostly light arms and are short on ammunition. Most supply lines have been cut.

"The Free Army will able to keep them out for a while, but if they cannot get more weapons and if the army keeps shelling from outside, they won't be able to hold out," he said.

"Right now their morale is very high," he said. But, he added, "We worry that what happened in Baba Amr will happen here."

In the evening, clashes eased, with occasional shells falling on the city, al-Yassin said. He said many were killed and injured but could not be taken to the central hospital because regime forces controlled it and other government buildings.

Regime forces ambushed a group of rebels heading to Idlib to join the fight, killing 16, according to two activist groups — the Local Coordination Committees and the Britain-based Syrian Observatory for Human Rights.

The Observatory said 17 civilians were killed in Idlib province Saturday, part of 28 killed nationwide. It said five other rebels were killed in fighting elsewhere, and that 19 regime troops were killed in Idlib and outside of Damascus. The LCC said 63 were killed nationwide, including 46 in Idlib province.

Al-Yassin's claims and the death tolls could not be independently verified.

The visit to Damascus by Annan, a former U.N. secretary-general, is the centerpiece of a high-profile international attempt to find a solution to the worsening conflict amid sharp divisions among world powers and Arab countries over how to deal with the crisis.

Annan planned a second round of talks with the Syrian president on Sunday, the U.N. spokesperson's office said in a statement.

Annan's call for an immediate cease-fire and political dialogue has been dismissed as a nonstarter by both sides. In his talks Saturday with Assad, Annan put "several proposals on the table" for stopping violence, gaining access for humanitarian aid deliveries to Syrians and starting an "inclusive political dialogue," the U.N. statement said.

Assad told Annan the plan was doomed "as long as there are armed terrorist groups that work to spread anarchy and destabilize the country," according to Syria's state news agency. The regime blames the uprising on terrorists serving a foreign conspiracy.

That appeared to signal that there could be no talks until the opposition is crushed.

The head of the Syrian National Council, the most prominent opposition group, said Friday that calls for dialogue are naive while Assad's troops continue to kill. Many in the opposition want military aid.

The uprising began a year ago with with anti-Assad protests in some of Syria's impoverished provinces. As the regime cracked down, the protests spread and some took up arms to defend themselves and attack government troops. Activists put the death toll at more than 8,000, compared to the U.N. count of more than 7,500.

Despite mounting international condemnation, Russia and China have stood by Assad and protected him from censure by the U.N. Security Council.

In a tense meeting with Arab foreign ministers at the Arab League headquarters in Cairo, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov defended his country.

"We are not protecting any regimes," he said. "We certainly believe that all outside actors must be extremely careful in addressing problems which your countries are facing."

Qatari Prime Minster Sheik Hamad bin Jassem Al Thani struck back.

"There are no armed gangs, there are systematic killings," he said.

In the end, the Arab League and Lavrov agreed on five points that could serve as the basis for a future U.N. Security Council resolution: an immediate cease-fire, a clause preventing foreign intervention, assurances about humanitarian aid and an endorsement of Annan's mission.

The League's backing down on previous demands for Assad to leave power appeared aimed at securing Russian support for a new resolution.

"Its not a perfect world," League chief Nabil Elaraby said.

Still, French Foreign Minister Alain Juppe said he doubted any new resolution could be pushed through because of a lack of consensus among countries over the text and Russia's opposition.

Western powers have said they will not intervene militarily in Syria as they did last year against Moammar Gadhafi in Libya. Top officials in Saudi Arabia and Qatar have spoken positively of the idea of arming the rebels, but have not announced concrete plans.

While President Barack Obama has said Assad's days are numbered, recent U.S. intelligence reports suggest the conflict could go on for months, since Assad still commands a formidable army and inner circle that remain loyal and an elite that backs his rule.

Intelligence analysts say Syria's disorganized opposition has yet to pose a serious challenge to the army, which boasts 330,000 soldiers plus reserves, formidable air defense systems and stockpiles of chemical weapons.

___

Associated Press photographer Rodrigo Abd in Idlib and AP writers Albert Aji in Damascus, Maggie Michael in Cairo and Kimberly Dozier in Washington contributed to this report.

question: What does the article say about why the Syrian government and the opposition rejected negotiations?

answer: President Bashar Assad rejected any immediate negotiations with the opposition and says that a political solution is impossible as long as terrorist groups threaten the country. The opposition has also rejected dialogue, saying talk is impossible after a yearlong crackdown that has killed more than 7,500 people.

question: What does the article say about what caused the uprising?

answer: The uprising began a year ago with anti-Assad protests. The opposition demands that Assad leave power.

question: What does the article say about how the uprising ends?


text:
_VINCE GUARALDI AND THE LOST CUES FROM THE CHARLIE BROWN TELEVISION SPECIALS, VOLUME 2_ is a compilation album by Vince Guaraldi released by D&D Records (Guaraldi's own label) in 2008. The album is a follow-up to the 2007 release, _Vince Guaraldi and the Lost Cues from the Charlie Brown Television Specials_, which consisted of previously unreleased music cues featured on several _Peanuts_ television specials produced in the 1970s.

Background

In the mid-2000s, recording studio master tapes for seven 1970s-era _Peanuts_ television specials scored by Vince Guaraldi were discovered by his son, Dave Guaraldi. Dave selected a handful of the better individual songs to compile two volumes of unreleased music cues.[1]

Dave Guaraldi worked to restore the master tapes again with sound engineer Michael Graves at his Atlanta, Georgia-based Osiris Studio.[2]

The songs chosen for this volume were featured in the following _Peanuts_ television specials:

-   _You're Not Elected, Charlie Brown_ (1972)
-   _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_ (1973)
-   _It's a Mystery, Charlie Brown_ (1974)
-   _It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown_ (1974)
-   _Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown_ (1975)

Reception and notability

_Sound Insights_ author Doug Payne noted that the release of _Vince Guaraldi and the Lost Cues from the Charlie Brown Television Specials_ was notable due to the fact that almost none of Guaraldi's _Peanuts_ soundtrack work was made available for public consumption. Despite scoring 16 _Peanuts_ television specials and one feature film, only two official soundtracks were released during Guaraldi's lifetime: _Jazz Impressions of A Boy Named Charlie Brown_ (an unaired television documentary) and _A Charlie Brown Christmas_. _Vince Guaraldi and the Lost Cues from the Charlie Brown Television Specials_ did much to fill a significant gap in this respect.[3]

Chris Holmes of the nostalgia-themed website _grayflannelsuit.net_ commented that “although some songs are quite brief, they paint a good picture of Guaraldi’s music near the end of his life; whimsical, funky, and always impeccably performed.”[4]

T. Ballard Lesemann of the _Charleston City Paper_ called “Little Birdie” the “best Thanksgiving theme,” commenting the “anti-worry/positive sentiment and snuffy singing style somehow matches the vibe of the season. Guaraldi sings lead, just barely in front of a great-sounding brass section and some funky electric piano.”[5]

Track listing

Numerous errors were made with respect to incorrect/misspelled titles, running times and song order.[6][7][8] Proper titles and song lengths appear with incorrectly titled tracks in parenthesis.

The song “Bus Me,” originally featured in _There's No Time for Love, Charlie Brown_, does not appear on the album despite being listed as Track 3. “There's Been a Change” (Track 6) is an alternate version than that featured in _Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown_. “Nobody Else” (Track 15) is a CD/iTunes bonus track.[9]

Personnel

All songs recorded at Wally Heider Studios, San Francisco, California (except “Nobody Else”).

_YOU'RE NOT ELECTED, CHARLIE BROWN_ – VINCE GUARALDI QUINTET[10]
Recorded on August 22, 1972

-   Vince Guaraldi – acoustic piano, electric keyboards, guitars, vocals
-   Seward McCain – bass
-   Tom Harrell – trumpet
-   Pat O'Hara – flute
-   Glenn Cronkhite – drums

_A CHARLIE BROWN THANKSGIVING_ – VINCE GUARALDI QUINTET[11]
Recorded on July 17-18, August 6 and October 1, 1973

-   Vince Guaraldi – acoustic piano, electric keyboards, vocals, guitars
-   Seward McCain – bass
-   Tom Harrell – trumpet
-   Chuck Bennett – trombone
-   Mike Clark – drums

_IT'S A MYSTERY, CHARLIE BROWN_ – VINCE GUARALDI QUARTET[12]
Recorded on January 5, 11, 23 and 30, 1974

-   Vince Guaraldi – acoustic piano, electric keyboards, guitars
-   Seward McCain – bass
-   Tom Harrell – trumpet
-   Eliot Zigmund – drums (January 11)
-   Mike Clark – drums (all other dates)

_IT'S THE EASTER BEAGLE, CHARLIE BROWN_ – VINCE GUARALDI TRIO[13]
Recorded on February 12, 20, 26 and March 14, 1974

-   Vince Guaraldi – acoustic piano, electric keyboards, guitars
-   Seward McCain – bass
-   Eliot Zigmund – drums

_BE MY VALENTINE, CHARLIE BROWN_ – VINCE GUARALDI TRIO[14]
Recorded on December 30, 1974; January 3, 1975

-   Vince Guaraldi – acoustic piano, electric keyboards, guitars
-   Seward McCain – bass
-   Vince Lateano – drums

[1]

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[3] _Vince Guaraldi and the Lost Cues from the Charlie Brown Television Specials_ at dougpayne.com

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title: Vince Guaraldi and the Lost Cues from the Charlie Brown Television Specials, Volume 2

question: Summarize what Peanuts is.

answer: Peanuts refers to television specials aired in the 1970's. The show appears to have covered a variety of special occasions ranging from Valentines to other holidays. Also, based on the details in the passage, it appears to be quite musical, featuring several scores throughout. The passage does not provide further details, other than the show having a major character named Charlie Brown.


text:
_AMITERMES FLORIDENSIS_, commonly known as the FLORIDA DARKWINGED SUBTERRANEAN TERMITE,[1] is a species of eusocial insect in the family Termitidae. It feeds on rotting wood, reached by a network of tunnels. It is endemic to west central Florida and was first described in 1989.

Taxonomy

During a survey of termites in Florida in the late twentieth century, a few winged specimens of an unidentified dark-winged termite in the family Termitidae were seen. This family contains around 1600 species but none had previously been found in the eastern United States. In 1988, swarms of these dark-winged termites were seen near the original location and further searches enabled workers of this species to be identified. The species was formally described in 1989 by the Florida entomologists Scheffrahn, Su, and Mangold; they named the new species _Amitermes floridensis_ because it seemed to be restricted to the state of Florida.[2]

Description

Workers are up to long. The thorax is constricted and the abdomen inflated, giving them a plump appearance. The head capsule is colourless and the abdomen transparent, so that the gut and its contents can be seen through the cuticle, giving them an overall greyish-colour. Soldiers are a similar size but the larger head capsule is pigmented and armed with black, crescent-shaped mandibles, each with a distinctive tooth on its inner surface. Nymphs develop in mature colonies during the spring; these are larger than the workers, have wider thoraxes and have wing pads. These develop into alates, winged males and females, which are dark brown, with bodies long and a total length with wings of . The wings are slender, with dark veins on the leading edge. The queen and king live deep below the ground but have not been observed in this species.[3]

Distribution and habitat

The Florida darkwinged subterranean termite has only been found in west central Florida, particularly around St. Petersburg. Its range extends from Tarpon Springs in the north to Sebring in the east and Punta Gorda in the south. It lives in an underground colony with extensive foraging passages. Where these emerge onto the surface in feeding locations, the above-ground portions are quite short.[4]

Ecology

The termite colony has subterranean chambers and extensive underground foraging passages, rotting timber being the main diet. This species does not form galleries inside timber, but forms tubes along the surface, grazing on the wood, but not rising far above the ground. These tubes have faecal matter incorporated into them and are black. Structures attacked include fallen logs, fence posts, tree trunks, sheds and porches.[5]

Winged reproductives emerge from the nest through special free-standing short “swarm tubes” during the day between July and September. Swarms often occur soon after rainfall, or even before the rain has stopped; the numbers of insects can be very large, resembling columns of smoke issuing from the ground.[6] The insects are weak fliers and many get stuck to wet foliage, buildings or vehicles.[7] Those that return to the ground form pairs and the female searches out a suitable location under a log, stone or debris, in which to start a colony. It may take several years before a colony is large enough to produce its own alates.[8][9]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

title: Amitermes floridensis

question: What does the article say about what Amitermes floridensis looks like?

answer: Amitermes floridensis' thorax s constricted and the abdomen inflated. The head capsule is colorless and the abdomen transparent, and soldiers are a similar size but the larger head capsule is pigmented and armed with black, crescent-shaped mandibles. Nymphs are larger than the workers, have wider thoraxes and have wing pads.

question: What does the article say about the taxonomy of Amitermes Floridensis?

answer: It belongs to the family Termitidae which contains around 1600 species. It is endemic to west-central Florida. In 1988, swarms of these dark-winged termites were seen near the original location and were formally described in 1989 by the Florida entomologists Scheffrahn, Su, and Mangold.

question: What does the article say about Amitermes Floridensis lifespan?


text:
_NEVERMORE_ is an 1897 oil on canvas painting by the French Post-Impressionist artist Paul Gauguin. Since 1932 it has been in the collection of the Courtauld Institute of Art and on display in the Gallery. It was executed during the artist's second stay on the island of Tahiti in the South Pacific.

The enigmatic work depicts a naked Pahura, Gauguin's teenage _vahine_ or wife, lying on a bed in their hut, her voluptuous figure echoed by the curves of the headboard. In the background behind the bed can be seen a raven and two mysterious human figures. [1]

The title “Nevermore”, painted in relatively large capitals in the top left-hand corner, and the presence of the raven is an obvious reference to Edgar Allan Poe's 1845 poem “The Raven”, which was well known to Gauguin and recited at his farewell party in 1891. In the poem a mourning student is visited in his room by a raven which croaks the one word “nevermore” in response to his every question. At the time the painting was executed Pahura was grieving the loss of her first child (by Gauguin) and Gauguin the loss of his favourite European-born daughter Aline. The artist himself claimed the bird represented a “bird of the devil who watches”. [2]

The painting was purchased in 1898 by the British composer Frederick Delius from Gauguin's friend George-Daniel de Monfreid for 500 francs. It was later bought by the British businessman Samuel Courtauld in 1926, who gifted it to the Courtauld Institute of Art.

In 2010, the painting was voted Britain’s _most romantic_ in a poll organised by the Art Fund Charity. It beat competition from a five painting shortlist, which included masterpieces by Jan van Eyck and Titian. [3]

[1]

[2]

[3] Telegraph.co.uk/culture

title: Nevermore (Gauguin)

question: Who painted Nevermore?

answer: Paul Gauguin.

question: What art movement was Paul Gauguin associated with?

answer: Post-impressionism.

question: What year was Nevermore completed?

answer: 1897.

question: What kind of artwork is Nevermore?

answer: Oil on canvas.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about Nevermore, an oil on canvas painting by French artist Paul Gauguin.


text:
Me, My Mum and I

I’ve never had a very good memory. Not really. People always say things like “do you remember when…?” And I always say:

“No? When was that?”

 It’s not embarrassing or anything. Just a pain. It’s just like a blank. I mean – God, I cant even remember where I was when I remembered this…but I'm pretty sure its my first memory. I don’t even know what I was doing. Maybe having coffee, or watching TV but it struck me – like I just got winded…Yeah…it was just like that…just like ‘doof.’

Wait, now I remember. I was on a bus coming home from the supermarket. There was this little boy who got on. He had this big bag on and her was wearing this puffy jacket. He was also wearing this beanie that was miles too big for his head. It was funny how it kept falling over his eyes. He waded up the aisle as the bus rocked from side to side. He was all by himself, and I thought I bet his mum gave him heaps of instructions for the ride… ‘sit at the front,’ ‘say thank you’ ‘remember to get off at the pools’, and then, there she was, my mum, just like doof.

At first I remembered, well had this image of my toes, teeny and tiny, and how I could only see peaks of the hard wood floor underneath. It was varnished and had all these holes from people wearing heels at dinner parties and stuff. Mum, well I'm not sure ok? But in my head, my Mum was wearing these violet blue heels. They were her favorite pair. They had this big thick heel with like a silver broach thing on at the front. My feet were so soft and pudgy and I always remember thinking that her feet, in those heels, looked old, ugly and thin.

I was looking down because she was above me, giving me instructions on how to get to the diary.

“You go down…Grace, are you paying attention?” She paused and coughed into her fist. She had her eyes closed and when she opened them again, catching her breathe, she continued. “See this shape, this L – that your hand makes when you hold it up like this?” She grabbed my hand in her cold thin one and traced the lines from the tip of my small index finger to the end of my thumb. I looked at my hand, they same way I stared at the glass wind chime that hung from our doorway or bugs in the dirt…I had no idea what she was talking about. “You see this L?” She asked. “That’s left; you take a big L, a big left, at the end of the street. Then you just keep going to you see the place with the big ice cream on top.  You know, the diary?”

Of course I knew. Its where I use to get pies with dad on Sundays, its where I got lollies with Joan. It was the place I stared at from the car window as we drove past. That big plastic Ice Cream cone on top was so cool. Sometimes it  lit up at night, it glowed like the moon. I use to stare at for hours.

“Take this money and get me some milk please and if you want you can get a mix while there. We can share the lollies ok?”

I smiled. “I’m not going to share any with you.”

She put her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out at me. I copied her and then we both laughed.

I can see myself. Brown eyes, hair pulled back in a loose plait, two strands falling over my face. But I can see her more clearly. She stood tall over me, with her peach dress. It looked like the smell of peach lollies, or maybe, peach lollies reminded me of the dress. Both are sweet I guess. She was always in that dress. If I think about it, I doubt she was wearing that peach dress with those violet heels that would’ve been ghastly. But as I say, in my head that’s what she was wearing.

She wore her hair like mine, hazel brown, loose plait. Except her eyes were cloudy blue. She had thin lips and small teeth. She was my Mum and despite her hands and feet, I though she was pretty.

I remember walking out the door and I knew that the world was too big for me. Not consciously, like I didn’t think that, but I knew that the world was too big – it was way too far to go. But Mum was sick, even then and that was greater than the size of the world. I squinted down the street. I was determined to get that milk.

It was a really hot day. The kind of hot you only remember when your little, like when you stare mesmerized, by the heat waves radiating off the cars or you have to lick your hand cause there’s melted ice cream all over it. It was that hot, cicadas blasting away hot, old men fanning their faces with their hats hot. I wiped my brow with the back of my arm and walked out, trying to remember what Mum said. I kept holding up my hands up in front of the sky, but they both made L’s if you turned them around, and I suppose I confused myself. By the time I reached the end of our street, I had no clue where to go.

Fuck it was scary, I stood on the street for ages looking both ways, my little ponytail wiping back and fourth and I needed to pee so bad. I was getting so worried. I kept imaging mum in her peach dress coughing over the sink or on her knees leaning over the toilet. My lips began to tremble. Luckily this old guy in a hat ended up coming along. He had a moustache that reminded me of polar bears and snow. He was real nice. He asked me where I wanted to go then walked me to the store.

When we arrived at the store he let go of my hand and asked if I was going to be ok. I pulled at my dress and looked around the store, it looked huge. Even if I stood on tiptoes I couldn’t reach the shelves and everything was so bright and confusing.

“Um yup I think so.” I said. He smiled at me, and then I remembered, “thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome little lady” and then off he went, out of the doorway. I never saw him again, I never found out who he was.

Inside it was cool, all the drinks were so colorful in the fridge, they glistened behind the glass. I couldn’t see above the counter, but I could feel Eric’s (that’s the guy who owned the dairy), I could feel his eyes on me. I tried to act all grown up so I walked past all the lollies and junk, pushing my hair out of my eyes and went straight to the milk. The big bottles where up top and they were really hard to reach.

“Do you want a hand?” Eric called out

“No thanks” I called back and I grabbed the biggest one I could.

It was so slippery, I remember it just falling to the ground and plopping open. Milk went everywhere. Eric came over and I was just standing there watching the milk move slowly across the floor, like it was invading the shop. I looked up at Eric with my mouth open, my eyes big like circles.

He said, “Now what has happened here?”

It was then, that I burst into tears.

Eric must have come over mopping up the white milk as it seeped into the store, but I can’t remember any of that. The next thing I remember was Mum. She was there in her peach dress. She stood flushed in the face. She looked round the store then down at me, and gave me the best smile in the world. For most of the journey home, I had my face buried in her shoulder. I could smell her skin. It smelt just like powdered peaches.

 “Ssssshhhhh” she said. “ssssh sssssh its ok, its ok, Mummy’s here now, everything’s going to be ok, I promise” Her words tickled my ear, they were soft and flawless.

I raised my head, wiped at my eyes with my fist, and licked the ice cream she bought me, before it melted all onto my hand. The last thing I remember about that day, was that her promise came true and everything was ok.

*

Later, I remembered, I was holding her much older, much thinner and much more spotty hand. She lay on her side and breathed in slowly, they spaces in between filled only with my heartbeat. She stared at me with her big blue cloudy eyes. I looked back; my brown eyes were red and wet. Mum was waiting to die.

Her mouth was open and she had no more of her little pretty teeth. Just a black hole. Her long hazel hair had turned white and curly.

She continued to breathe slowly…slowly, slowly. She never blinked. She never took her eyes off me. There was no one else in that room. Just me and Mum. Outside, everything carried on as usual but inside my Mum was dying and there was nothing I could do.

I squeezed her hand and said to her “Mum, its ok, I'm here now, you can go, don’t be scared, everything is going to be ok”

She looked back at me until something inside disappeared. My mum had continued to breathe, until she stopped. Her old, thin, spotty hand, cold already, grew colder. I realized I was no longer holding a hand. Now it just felt like a cold thing. She no longer moved. Not even a flutter. The little that was left behind those blue eyes had gone. I continued to stare at her only now there was no one looking back.

I breathed in as my eyes grew wet and said, “Its ok, its ok, you’re alright now mum, I promise, everything’s going to be alright now.”

And as I breathed out, I hoped that it was.

title: Short Story i wrote for a competition, theme was full circle - any critique would be great!!

question: What happens to the narrator in the store?

answer: Grace, the narrator, attempts to grab a jug of milk but isn't tall or strong enough to carry it. She drops it and milk spills everywhere. Grace's mother arrives to save her and calm her down.

question: Summarize the ending of the story.

answer: The ending of the story occurs further in the future than the milk incident. Grace's mother is on her deathbed, and Grace is next to her. She attempts to comfort her in her last moments.

question: Is the narrator a good student?


text:
 Updated on March 09, 2020

Modern grandmothers are expanding their roles and selecting varied names for themselves. There are lots of Omas who aren't German and many Lolas who aren't Filipino. If you like the sound of one of these ethnic names or a grandmother name from another country, you should feel free to select it, although it's a good idea to discuss whatever name you choose with the parents of your grandchild first.

Many of these names appear in several variations and spellings. Remember that languages use a variety of alphabets, which makes translating them into English tricky.

 Popular Ethnic Names for Grandmothers

These names are among those most frequently chosen likely because they sound familiar and are easy to say and spell.

-   Filipino: Lola is the most popular grandmother name. Other names used by Filipinos include names for mother which grandchildren pick up such as inang and its variations nanang, and nanay.
-   French: Popular choices are Grand-mère or Grandmere, but Grand-maman is also used occasionally, along with Gra-mere, Mémé, and Mamé.
-   French Canadian: Mémé and Mamie are most often used by French Canadians.
-   German: Oma is one of the most popular ethnic names for grandmother and is often used by grandmothers with no German heritage.
-   Greek: Maybe because it just sounds joyful, the Greek YaYa is a popular grandmother nickname. It's sometimes hyphenated and sometimes rendered as YiaYia.
-   Hawaiian: Tutu is often used for grandparents of both genders, although technically grandmothers are Tutu Wahine and grandfathers are Tutu Kane.
-   Italian: Nonna is a popular grandmother's name, possibly because it is close to Nana and other familiar grandmother nicknames.

 Less Popular Ethnic Names

The names that follow don't roll as easily off the tongue, and some of them can be real challenges to spell. For that reason, not too many grandmothers select them unless they do reflect at least a part of their heritage. Also note: In Europe, where there has been a lot of movement across borders, grandmother names used in one country are frequently heard in neighboring countries as well.

-   Hebrew: Jewish grandmothers typically choose either the Hebrew Savta or the Yiddish Bubbe. Both have several variant spellings.
-   Chinese: Popular Chinese names for grandmothers include NaiNai, Ma Ma, Po Po, and Wai Po, but the exact name chosen depends upon the region, the language and whether a grandmother is on the maternal or paternal side.
-   Flemish: Flemish is spoken in Flanders, which is the northern part of Belgium. Bomma and Bommi are common Flemish names for a grandmother, but the Flemish also uses Oma or Omi.
-   Irish: Seanmháthair is Irish for grandmother, but Irish children are much more likely to use Maimeó or Móraí.
-   Japanese: Obaasan is the Japanese word for grandmother, but Japanese boys and girls are much more likely to call their grandmothers Sobo.
-   Korean: Halmoni is commonly used, although it can be spelled as Halmeoni or shorted to Halmi.
-   Polish: Babcia, Babciu, Babunia, Babula, and Babusia are all variations of Polish names for grandmother. Is it any wonder that Polish grandchildren often shorten these terms to Baba?
-   Portuguese: Both the Portuguese term for grandmother and the one for grandfather are spelled Avo, but they have different diacritical markings and pronunciations.
-   Russian: Babushka is the Russian name for grandmother, and, yes, the Russian nesting dolls are sometimes called babushka dolls.
-   Spanish: Abuela and Abuelita are common terms, often shortened to Lita.

 A Few More Choices

These grandmother names don't link to longer articles but do offer some interesting options.

-   Armenia: The Armenian language is an ancient tongue that uses its own alphabet. The Armenian word for grandmother, transliterated, is _Tatik_.
-   Cambodia: The official language is Khmer, and a grandma is _Yeay_ or _Yiey_.
-   Croatia: The Croatian language is spoken in Croatia, Bosnia, Herzegovina, and neighboring areas. The Croatian word for grandmother is _Baka_.
-   Iceland: _Amma_ is the Icelandic word for grandmother. In several other languages, the word means "mother."
-   Malay: People in Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia may speak Malay. The Malay word for grandmother is _Nenek_.
-   Romania: People in Romania and Moldova may speak Romanian and may call their grandmother _Bunica_.
-   Swahili: Many Africans speak Swahili. It is the official language of Tanzania, Kenya, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The Swahili word for grandmother is _Bibi_.

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1.

    Infoplease. Armenian Language. T_he Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia,_ 6th ed. 2012.

question: How many languages does the article list names for "grandma" in?

answer: It lists names in 24 languages: Armenian, Cambodian, Chinese, Croatian, Filipino, Flemish, French, French Canadian, German, Greek, Hawaiian, Icelandic, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Malay, Polish, Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, Spanish and Swahili.


text:
Democratic presidential candidate Sen. Elizabeth Warren[]Elizabeth WarrenBette Middler blasts McConnell: 'How did he win with an 18% approval rating?' Mnuchin faces heat over coronavirus rescue loan to trucking company AFL-CIO praises Biden trade pick Tai as 'worker-champion' MORE (D-Mass.) criticized Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg[]Mark Elliot Zuckerberg46 states and FTC file antitrust lawsuits against Facebook Hillicon Valley: Antitrust, content moderation to dominate tech policy in 2021 | Ransomware attacks pose 2021 challenges for Congress | Hackers threaten to disrupt COVID-19 vaccine supply chain Antitrust, content moderation to dominate tech policy in 2021 MORE on Thursday over a speech he made that day at Georgetown University, alleging that the social media founder’s comments show “how unprepared Facebook is to handle the 2020 election." The presidential candidate also stated that Facebook was posting political ads with misinformation to turn a large profit.

“Mark Zuckerberg's speech today shows how little he learned from 2016, and how unprepared Facebook is to handle the 2020 election,” Warren tweeted.

“Facebook had a policy that didn't permit misinformation in any ads. Facebook built relationships with independent fact-checkers, so they weren't the sole deciders of what was or wasn't a lie. But Facebook undermined those relationships and excluded political ads from that policy,” she continued.

  Mark Zuckerberg's speech today shows how little he learned from 2016, and how unprepared Facebook is to handle the 2020 election. https://t.co/2JHCuihexR

  — Elizabeth Warren (@ewarren) October 18, 2019

  Facebook had a policy that didn't permit misinformation in any ads. Facebook built relationships with independent fact-checkers, so they weren't the sole deciders of what was or wasn't a lie. But Facebook undermined those relationships and excluded political ads from that policy.

  — Elizabeth Warren (@ewarren) October 18, 2019

"Here's the thing, Mark. Trump isn't just posting a lie on his own page for his own followers. Facebook is accepting millions of dollars from Trump to run political ads, including ones with misinformation and outright lies. Ads that TV stations won't even run," Warren added to the thread.

"Facebook is actively helping Trump spread lies and misinformation. Facebook already helped elect Donald Trump once. They might do it again—and profit off of it," she continued.

  Here's the thing, Mark. Trump isn't just posting a lie on his own page for his own followers. Facebook is accepting millions of dollars from Trump to run political ads, including ones with misinformation and outright lies. Ads that TV stations won't even run.

  — Elizabeth Warren (@ewarren) October 18, 2019

  Facebook is actively helping Trump spread lies and misinformation. Facebook already helped elect Donald Trump once. They might do it again—and profit off of it.

  — Elizabeth Warren (@ewarren) October 18, 2019

Warren has been a vocal critic of Facebook’s rules on political ads. Over the weekend, her presidential campaign purposefully ran an ad promoting a false claim that Zuckerberg endorsed President Trump[]Donald TrumpBiden and Harris named Time's 2020 'Person of the Year' US to sanction Turkey over Russian defense system: report Federal government executes Brandon Bernard despite last-minute appeals MORE, pointing out that the company faces challenges in restricting misinformation on the site.

“Breaking news: Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook just endorsed Donald Trump for re-election,” Warren’s campaign wrote in the Facebook advertisement, which featured a picture of President Trump and Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg shaking hands. “You’re probably shocked, and you might be thinking, ‘How could this possibly be true?’ ”

“Well, it’s not,” the advertisement reads. “But what Zuckerberg *has* done is given Donald Trump free rein to lie on his platform — and then to pay Facebook gobs of money to push out their lies to American voters.”

But Zuckerberg has defended Facebook’s controversial decision to allow politicians to post ads with misleading or false claims, saying it is “something we have to live with.”

“People worry, and I worry deeply, too, about an erosion of truth,” Zuckerberg told The Washington Post before a speech at Georgetown University. “At the same time, I don’t think people want to live in a world where you can only say things that tech companies decide are 100 percent true. And I think that those tensions are something we have to live with.”

He continued to defend the policy during the speech, saying that the company had considered banning all political ads, but they rejected that approach because they can be “an important part of voice.”

“Political ads on Facebook are more transparent than anywhere else,” Zuckerberg said. “We don’t factcheck political ads … because we believe people should be able to see for themselves what politicians are saying."

“I know many people disagree, but in general I don’t think it’s right for a private company to censor politicians or the news in a democracy. And we are not an outlier here.”

Facebook also came under fire after Trump’s reelection campaign released an advertisement accusing former Vice President Joe Biden[]Joe BidenBiden and Harris named Time's 2020 'Person of the Year' US to sanction Turkey over Russian defense system: report Federal government executes Brandon Bernard despite last-minute appeals MORE, without evidence, of using his office to pressure Ukrainian officials to end an investigation into a company on which his son, Hunter Biden, sat on the board. No evidence has suggested this accusation is true.

question: Who won with an 18% approval rating?

answer: Donald Trump.

question: How is Mark Zuckerberg relevant to the election?

answer: Senator Elizabeth Warren is accusing him of allowing Donald Trump to spread misinformation on Facebook. She is also accusing him of accepting millions of dollars from Trump to run political ads.

question: What was the issue with Donald Trump?

answer: Senator Elizabeth Warren is accusing him of spreading misinformation on Facebook.

question: Was there proof of Elizabeth Warren's accusations?

answer: Information can't be found.

question: How did Mark respond to the allegations?

answer: He claims that “Political ads on Facebook are more transparent than anywhere else" and that they do not fact-check political ads.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Senator Elizabeth Warren attempts to expose Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook for allowing Donald Trump to spread lies and misinformation.


text:
LACIE KANERAHTAHSÓHON BURNING is a Kanien'kehá:ka and Onöñda'gega multi-disciplinary artist raised on Six Nations of the Grand River in Southern Ontario, Canada. Burning is currently based out of Vancouver, British Columbia where they are completing a Bachelor of Fine Arts at Emily Carr University of Art and Design[1]

Their work incorporates themes of their upbringing, including their cultural and political background. Being a multidisciplinary artist, Burning's work combines elements of photography, video, installation, and sculpture to focus on Indigenous politics and identity from a Haudenosaunee perspective.[2] Burning has been nominated for various awards in celebration of their work such as the New Generation Photography Award[3] and was the runner-up to the 2020 Philip B. Lind Emerging Artist Prize.[4]

Art Practice/Career

Lacie Burning's art is rooted in their upbringing, experiences, and identity as a Kanien'kehá:ka and Onöñda'gega Indigiqueer person. Burning’s art portrays a Haudenosaunee perspective and grapples with Indigenous relationships to land, representation and “the gaze.”[5] Burning incorporates traditional materials and fabrics, such as black velvet from traditional Mohawk regalia and practices such as beading and mask-making within their multi-media approach.[6]

The Reflection Series

The _Reflection Series_ is Burning’s most notable photography series exploring land-body reciprocity. The _Reflection Series_ was inspired by Burning’s witnessing of a land claims conflict (the [[Grand River land dispute|“Caledonia Standoff”]]) at Kanonhstaton in Six Nations of the Grand River Territory, Ontario, in 2006.[7] Burning’s experience with this conflict at age 12 spurred their political awakening and awareness of the fraught race relations between reserves and the communities that surround them.[8] The _Reflection Series_ ultimately explores the relationship between settlers and Indigenous peoples and what it means for Indigenous peoples to assert their presence on their traditional land. For the series, Burning asked themselves, “What do I look like—what does it look like—when I assert my sovereignty over the land as a [Kanien’kehá:ka] person in Caledonia?”[9] The central figure in _Reflection Piece_, who adorns a mask of mirror shards, presents an answer to this question of assertions of sovereignty through a vulnerable lens using traditional images such as masks, and juxtaposing this with the fragility of the mirrors.[10] Burning describes it as “the realization that unsettling our territories is a process that Indigenous peoples must take responsibility for alongside settlers by acknowledging internalized colonialism, reflecting upon it and actively wanting to change it.”[11] Praised by fellow artists The _Reflection Series_ has been described by Cree-Métis-Saulteaux artist Lindsay Nixon as “the haunting of a genderless ghost body, a protest on the lands that taught Burning resistance, and a disruption of the supposedly clear idea of what it means to be an Indigenous person assuredly enacting sovereignty over their lands.”[12]

Exhibits

Burning’s art has been featured in a variety of exhibits across Canada. In 2016, Burning was invited to feature their work at the Mohawk Institute for the Mush Hole Project.[13] The Mohawk Institute is a former residential school, that members of Burning’s family attended. For the Mush Hole Project, Burning displayed two of their works: _Story Time_ and _Who Will Be my Witness_.[14] explores intergenerational trauma and themes of resurgence and resistance in Indigenous cultures in the face of genocidal acts such as residential schools.[15] The installation features an audio recording of residential school survivor Irene Favel speaking about her experience in a Saskatchewan school.[16] _Story Time_ was originally displayed in NE:ETH: Going Out of the Darkness in 2013 in conjunction with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, where it received acclaim in Canadian Art Magazine.[17] _Who Will Be my Witness_ is a performance and installation piece intended to promote healing within survivors and their descendants through audience engagement. The piece encourages spectators to write on the wall of the residential school and “show positivity” towards those impacted by the residential school system and its legacy.[18]

In 2018, Burning’s work was a featured exhibition in the CONTACT Photography Festival. Their exhibit _Forward Facing_ explores the intersections within Indigenous identities through photo, video, craft, and installation practices. Forward Facing was created in collaboration with fellow artists Dayna Danger and Jade Nasogaluak Carpenter.[19]

Curatorial

Lacie Burning has also engaged in curatorial work. They collaborated with scholar June Scudeler on the exhibition “Unsettling Colonial Gender Boundaries” for the 2017 Queer Arts Festival.[20] This exhibition explores Indigenous experiences of gender and sexuality and brings intersectional Queer-Indigenous experiences and Two-Spirit media art to the forefront.[21] Burning and Scudeler commissioned media works and performances from artists Thirza Cuthand (Cree), Chandra Melting Tallow (Siksika), Raven Davis (Anishinaabek), and Kent Monkman (Swampy Cree) for the exhibition.[22]

Awards and Recognitions

Burning’s work has been praised by the art community through various awards celebrating its unique themes and multi-disciplinary approach. Burning was the runner-up in the 2020 Philip B. Lind Emerging Artist Prize and was awarded $1000 as a recognition of their achievement.[23] The Lind Prize is an annual award given to an emerging artist based in British Columbia working in mediums of film, photography, or video.[24] Burning was also long-listed for the New Generation Photography Award in 2020.[25] The New Generation Photography Award, established in 2017 as a partnership between the National Gallery of Canada and Scotiabank, is annually given to three artists under 30 working in lens-based art.[26] As of April 2020, the 2020 winners have yet to be announced.

[1]

[2]

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title: Lacie Burning

question: Where does Lacie Kanerahtahsohon Burning come from?

answer: Burning is a Kanien'kehá:ka and Onöñda'gega multi-disciplinary artist raised on Six Nations of the Grand River in Southern Ontario, Canada. She lives in Vancouver, British Columbia. Burning is Haudenosaunee.

question: What informs Burning's career?

answer: Burning's art is from a Haudensounee perspective. They are indigenous and queer. Their perspective grapples  with indigenous relationship to land, representation and "the gaze." Burning uses traditional materials.


text:
Are some gamma-ray bursts – such as GRB 060614 – a sign that white holes exist after all?

In late May 2011, Physorg reported on a paper by Alon Retter and Shlomo Heller, suggesting that a known gamma-ray burst GRB 060614 might have been a white hole.

A black hole, by definition, is a huge mass in a small space. Its gravity is powerful. Light cannot escape it. Hence, a black hole’s blackness.

White holes are the theoretical opposite of black holes. As black holes draw in surrounding stars, dust, passing spaceships – whatever comes too near – so white holes, by definition, would radiate light. Matter can and would escape from white holes into the universe. Both white and black holes were entirely theoretical several decades ago, but now many actual astronomical objects are associated with black holes. Even our home galaxy, the Milky Way, is thought to have a black hole at its heart.

Click here to enlarge image above

[]

Via BBC

The idea of white holes was fashionable for a time in the 1970s. People spoke of wormholes, with a black hole on one end and a white whole on the other. Could these wormholes be tunnels in spacetime through which intrepid travelers could journey instantaneously across vast distances in the universe? But further thought caused people to realize that white holes would be extremely unstable, and hence highly unlikely to exist, in fact so unlikely that no one has talked about them much in recent decades. They are truly fringe science. So far, no astronomical source has been successfully tagged a white hole.

Alon Retter and Shlomo Heller associate the idea of a white hole with the Big Bang – the theoretical beginning of our universe – which, as they say, “was instantaneous rather than continuous or long-lasting,” which presumably gets around the problem of white hole instability. Retter and Heller write:

  We thus suggest that the emergence of a white hole, which we name a ‘Small Bang’, is spontaneous – all the matter is ejected at a single pulse. Unlike black holes, white holes cannot be continuously observed rather their effect can only be detected around the event itself.

And that brings us to gamma-ray bursts, which, by definition, are short but exceedingly powerful bursts of gamma rays: the most energetic explosions in the universe.

[]

Image Credit: NASA’s Swift satellite

Retter and Heller propose identifying some gamma-ray bursts with white holes. In particular, they suggest that the gamma-ray burst labeled GRB 060614 – detected by NASA’s Swift satellite on June 14, 2006 – does not fit the normal categories for these objects. Gamma-ray bursts often occur in regions of low star formation, or they are associated with supernovae. GRB 060614 does neither, and thus, say these researchers, this gamma-ray burst might have been a white hole – radiating powerfully and briefly.

GRB 060614 had what is considered a “long duration” burst of gamma rays – 102 seconds. It is sufficiently unusual to warrant an article in Nature, whose lead author (Gehrels) said:

  This is brand new territory; we have no theories to guide us.

Thus Retter and Heller’s paper – which appears to be self-published and is relatively easy to read – suggesting that:

  The observed wealth of different types of gamma-ray burst sources may contain appearance events of white holes.

If indeed the gamma-ray burst GRB 060614 can be shown to be associated with a white hole, the universe has just become a more interesting place!

Download Retter and Heller’s paper (pdf)
Good explanation of white holes
Best snapshot of black hole jets
Epic study confirms Einstein on space-time vortex around Earth

[Deborah Byrd]

Deborah Byrd created the EarthSky radio series in 1991 and founded EarthSky.org in 1994. Today, she serves as Editor-in-Chief of this website. She has won a galaxy of awards from the broadcasting and science communities, including having an asteroid named 3505 Byrd in her honor. A science communicator and educator since 1976, Byrd believes in science as a force for good in the world and a vital tool for the 21st century. "Being an EarthSky editor is like hosting a big global party for cool nature-lovers," she says.

question: What happened in May 2011?

answer: Physorg reported on a paper by Alon Retter and Shlomo Heller, suggesting that a known gamma-ray burst GRB 060614 might have been a white hole.

question: What is a white hole?

answer: White holes are an phenomenon present in outer space that are the theoretical opposite of black holes; they would radiate light.

question: What is a black hole?

answer: A black holes draw in surrounding stars, dust, and objects.


text:
Scrubs

In a college cafeteria, a young woman (her friends call her Scrubs) sits at a table and eats her lunch with her eyes unfocused and staring ahead. She sits up straight, even though she looks like she’s going to collapse. She chews her food mechanically. Her light blue nurse’s scrubs are clean and wrinkle free; her white shoes are as bright as the first day she proudly bought them. Her Mom and Pop back home in Kansas would be impressed if they could see her now. She comes from a family of farmers whose education never exceeded high school. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamt of becoming a nurse in the big city. She traveled from her small town in Kansas full of determination and hope; the things that she’s afraid might disappear since the incident at her apartment building.

She pushes the incident out of her thoughts for now. She pretends that it never happened. Her life is going perfectly. She has a job that helps her pay for school and she found a boyfriend. His name is Georgeo. “He’s such a caring person,” she thinks to herself. Her and Georgeo went to an animal shelter when they were first dating, and picked out a dog that could keep her company in her lonely apartment. She’s not sure what breed of dog he is, but he has been a loyal companion, she named him Champion.

She finishes her day at school and is walking towards the bus stop when she gets a call from Georgeo on her cell phone. “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened. I have a surprise that might cheer you up though.” He says.

“An engagement ring!” she thinks to herself.

They had been seeing each other for months now. He is the kindest, sweetest man she has ever known. She knows that Georgeo was the perfect man for her. She can see him and her growing old together and having children. Her life could be perfect with him, she thought, even more perfect than it is now.

“I can’t wait!” She replied.

On her way home, she fantasizes about her bright future. When she enters her apartment, Champion does not greet her at the door like he usually does. “Champ’s getting lazy,” she thinks to herself. She puts down her bag and reclines on the couch. She picks up the remote control, points it at the television and presses the button, but there’s no effect. She pushes the button once more; still no effect. She focuses her eyes away from her daydreaming to the television.
Champion is sitting like a statue before the television in the dark room; his steel-grey eyes are fixed upon her. “What are you doing Champ? Come here boy.” She says. Champion does not move. His eyes are still focused on her in the darkness, unblinking; she can feel him peering into her soul. She turns her head away. “He knows” She thinks, “of course he knows, he was there when it happened.” She slowly opens her mind, letting in the memories of the day of the incident. “Poor Missus Agatha Watson, if only I had paid more attention to her, she might still be alive today. Why did I have such a loose grip?” she repeats over and over in her head. “Maybe if Georgeo hadn’t been flirting with me and my heart was not racing,” she thought. “Only Champion knows that I wasn’t focused while walking Mrs. Watson’s wheelchair. If I were paying more attention, Mrs. Watson wouldn’t have slipped down those stairs. It… it was an accident...”

She replays the incident in her mind. She was leaving her apartment to take Champion for a walk before her date with Georgeo later that evening. She was thinking about the naughty things that he said to her on the phone earlier, and she was unable to calm herself down. Just as Scrubs was coming out of her apartment, Agatha Watson, the elderly woman in a wheelchair from a couple doors down was coming down the hall, with her feeble, quivering arms struggling to turn the wheels. “Be a dear and push my wheelchair for me,” she called out.

“Sure thing Agatha.” Scrubs replied, and she walked over to the wheelchair.

“Don’t call me Agatha, kiddo. It’s Mrs. Watson to you, and don’t you forget it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mrs. Watson.” Scrubs says, as she takes the wheelchair handles and starts to push.

“Say, what are you all dolled up for? A girl doesn’t put on her glad rags just to take her pup for a walk.”

“I, uh, just felt like dressing up today.”

“Says you!” cried Agatha Watson, “you look like you’re on cloud nine. I think you’re stuck on that ragamuffin I’ve seen coming into your apartment. I’ve seen you two necking out here in the hall.”

“You mean—my boyfriend?”

“You’re such a pushover. I’ll bet he’s gonna take you to a petting pantry and afterwards you’re gonna play backseat bingo in his old jalopy. Real original! Any swell daddy would take you out to a ritzy joint no matter how many rubes it costs. Back in my day--” old Agatha Watson kept jabbering on, making archaic criticisms and insults about Scrubs and Georgeo all the way down the hall to the elevator next to the stairs.

The strangest thing happened when they got to the elevator, something that she can’t forget no matter how hard she tries, Agatha Watson’s wheelchair started to inch toward the stairs. For some reason Scrubs watched it happen, paralyzed in place, she didn’t reach out to stop it. Agatha screamed out with her weak old lady voice as she and her wheelchair flipped end over end down the stairs. The wheelchair and the old lady took turns slamming against the stairs. The wheelchair created loud metallic bangs against the wooden staircase and the old lady just made dull thumps combined with the sound of fracturing bones. Agatha’s scream abruptly stopped halfway through the tumble when her head impacted a step. It all happened in an instant. At the bottom, the body of Mrs. Watson lay pinned under her wheelchair with the side of her face pressed against the floor. When the police questioned Scrubs about it, she said that she found her, already dead, after she heard a commotion in the hall.

“It was an… accident…” she repeats in the darkened room, “I used extra lotion so my hands would be oh so soft when I held hands with Georgeo on our date and the wheel chair just slipped out of my grasp, that’s all… nobody’s fault…”

The dog was still looking at her. This time he had an incriminatory look in his eyes, as if to say to her, “I know what you did.”

“But it was an accident, Champ. You have to believe me!” She shouted out. She was starting to cry, but Champion’s glare persisted, unblinking.

“Okay, okay, so what if I’m partly to blame?! I didn’t really mean to! I couldn’t move! You were there! You saw! I couldn’t move!” she shouted.

She remembered back, when the rage built up inside of her as Mrs. Watson talked in the hall. “How dare this uppity witch talk to me this way,” Scrubs thought. “What would happen if this lady just fell down these stairs? Would anyone care? The world would be so much better without this wrinkly old snob in it, maybe I should do everyone a favor.” There was supposed to be a separation of thought and action. It was supposed to only be fantasy. In this case, her fantasy dictated her actions. She pushed Agatha Watson down those stairs and only her and Champion knows the truth.

“I did it, Champion!” Scrubs cries, “I confess! It was my entire fault! I hated the old woman and I wished her dead and it happened. Can’t we just forget about it? Our life is perfect, Georgeo wants to marry me; I know it! Let’s forget it ever happened, it doesn’t make a difference. Don’t let this stand in our way of happiness!” Scrubs tearfully pleaded.
The dog’s grey eyes didn’t let up. Champion could see through her, no matter how hard she begged for mercy, he didn’t let go of his hold on her. He sat in the same spot, intently trying to force the evil out of her.

Scrubs broke down. She started crying unrestrained. She knew what she had to do.

She boarded the bus at the stop on the corner. Choking on her tears and shaking with her sobs on the crowded bus, she traveled to the police station where she turned herself in. One policeman was trying to console her, thinking that she was the victim of some horrible crime before she could slow her crying down enough to tell him that she was the one who committed a horrible crime and that she needed to be locked away forever. The police were astounded, but they locked her in a cell nonetheless, based on what she said.

“You get one phone call.” Said a policeman, as he guided her to the phone on the wall. She knew whom she was going to call, Georgeo, to tell him that their future was over. She dialed the number, he picked up, and she explained to him what she had done.

“You what!?” Said Georgeo, completely shocked.

“I killed that old lady in my apartment building… now we can’t ever get married… our future is wrecked, because of me.”

“Whoa there! You killed someone? And what’s this about marriage? Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s not funny.”

“But—that surprise you had for me—wasn’t that an… engagement ring?”

“What!? No. The other day when I came to your apartment and you weren’t there, I found your dog. Dead.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense. Champion is alive. He’s the reason I’m here in the first place! What does that have to do with my surprise anyway?”

“umm… I thought you knew he was dead at the time… I took the liberty of taking him to a taxidermist, to get him stuffed… as a present. I know how much you loved that dog.”

There was a long pause.

“I… I have to go now…” whimpered Scrubs, as she carefully put the phone back on the wall. She turned around and slowly walked back into her cell. She had a long, long time to think about what happened, and how her life came to this.

title: Scrubs

question: What was "the incident" that happened at Scrubs' apartment?

answer: She "accidentally" pushed her elderly neighbor down the stairs in her wheelchair and she died.

question: What's the twist about her dog Champion?

answer: The dog sits like a statue in her apartment and she feels judged for what she did. It drives her to turn herself in at the police station. When she takes her one call she speaks with her boyfriend who informs her that the dog was dead and he had it taxidermied. It wasn't judging her, it was dead.


text:
This is apart of an ongoing short story I've been writing for a while. I have been toying with this plot for years and finally I think I'm getting somewhere with it.

Ran Thar, the shining jewel of the Yul Ran Empire, truly a monument to ancients of magic. It was once the very prison they were destined to die in, but after the Cartel war they turned it into a home of their own.
From afar Ran Thar looks like one giant palace, in a way it is but it is a very complex structure. The sacred halls of the temple are lined with gigantic statues of ancient Men and Yul Ran alike. They were ancient wardens of Magic, from a time when magic was the greatest power in the whole of the universe.
Although the Yul Ran are devoted to magic, full devotion is not compulsory. Because of the strong relationship they have with the federation they are relatively advanced in technology. The Magic is really being drifted away, as all of the political and governing is done alongside the Federation. The Academy & Council of Magic does not like this at all, and they despise the Federation very much. There have been rumors of an uprising. The elders talk about an ancient calender that marks significant dates from the past and the future. No one has actually seen this calender but some say there are dates marked on it that are yet to come, some in the near future. Although all of this talk of the ancients is quickly shrugged off by everyone else.
The sacred halls of the temple stretch farther than the eye can see. golden light from the sun bounces off the the magnificent bronze statues and through the crossing halls. There is an uncharted section of the sacred halls which is home to a few unmentionable statues. One of which being Regol, also known as the Dark Prophet. He was a human worshiper of magic. He had a devotion unlike anyone else and was one of the most powerful users of magic in the entire universe. But that wasn't enough for him, he wanted to become more powerful. It is said that he discovered a new form of magic, one which was more powerful than any other. He tried to get the Council of Magic to use this new form of Magic but they refused saying it was too dangerous. Regol was outraged and swore he would get his day. The council decided he was a lost cause and exiled him from the council. But this wasn't the last they saw Regol, many years later he returned bringing an army with him, where he laid siege to the Magic capital Magha, which still lies a desolate wasteland to this day. Many do not know why he was memorialized with a statue, some say that regardless of his corrupted uprising he was still a great asset to the council and we should remember him for the good he did.

My name is Mal Tun, and if you are reading this then things have probably already turned for worse. I don't exactly know what's going to happen tonight but I have a suspicion that it will lead into a series of events that will rock the entire universe for the worse. I've never seen a war in my lifetime, heck I probably wouldn't know what a war looked like if I saw one.
I'm a senior in the Magic Academy and have been so for a few years now, I joined the academy when I was only a child and things were pretty normal up until now. Not too long ago the council began dabbling in a new form of magic, a magic that is extremely powerful. I suspect that the council is planning on using this magic for evil. Which I don't know why because the council has been peaceful for so many years.
Whoever finds this note, I just pray to the ancients you didn't find it in the ruins of this great city.

"Circle back around me Red, get him from behind me, I'll take him for a walk, on my mark release a torpedo on him, make sure you're in stealth we don't want him picking up on our game"
Captain Red says over the radio.
"You sure this is an elimination mission?"
Asked Murry.
"He won't comply with an arrest, they never do and they never give into interrigation, orders are to eliminate any in the area"
"Aye aye Captain"
In hot pursuit of the renegade spacecraft Red notices something on his radar.
"Red are you seeing this too?"
Murry asked nervously.
Several red dots appear on the radar, and gradually more appear.
"Yep I see it, but I've got no visual, how about you?"
"No I can't see a damn thing, what do we do?"
They both halted momentarily, unsure of what was going to happen.
"Red I don't see anything, this could be a trick!"
Exclaimed Murry
"Or it could be something much worse"
 Red replied
Now the red dots on the radar are appearing more rapidly
" We gotta get out of here"
Said Red
The two spacecrafts circled one another and flew back to base.

The federations Fortress, commonly known as FF or the floating city because of how big it is. The fortified war machine of the universe and home to the largest military ever known.
Murry is in his dorm which he shares with Red putting together a rifle when Red enters the dorm.
" Hey we gotta get down to the main hanger, The Yul Ran ambassador is visiting and there's a ceremony"
Red says to Murry.
"Yeah I'll be down shortly, by the way do you know what this is all about?"
Murry asks.
" I'm not sure but apparently it's on urgent matters"
Murry nodded while he has a curious look on his face.

The FF is scattered with hangers, large and small, the main hanger, which is in the center of the vessel below the other hangers is traditionally used for royal and government transits, such as a person of high power visiting.

The large shield doors slide slowly slide open and a enormous brown spacecraft hovers into the hanger. As the landing gear slowly comes down the shield door closes behind the spacecraft. The craft touches down on the ground of the hanger and a rectangular prism structure lowers from the front of the spacecraft. A door opens and two Yul Ran guards wielding long spears step out. They servery the hanger for a brief moment then step aside and reveal the Ambassador of Run Thar.

General Pavier of the Federation accompanied by Officer Mavis approach the Ambassador.
" Ambassador, might I say what a pleasure it is to have you here on such short notice"
Said General Pavier humbly
" My home is in danger"
The Ambassador spoke in a soft croaky voice.

General Pavier nods and turns to Officer Mavis briefly and they made an awkward eye contact.
"Come with us, we'll discuss this further somewhere more private"
Said General Pavier
General Pavier along with Officer Mavis begin to walk down the lane created by soldiers and the Ambassador along with his guards follow.

Red and Murry are walking back to their quarters, both looking at the floor. When Red began shaking his head.
"There's going to be a war, I know it"
Says Red.
"A war, How do you know this?"
Murry asks.
"I can just feel it, did you see the face on the ambassador, somethings not right"
"How can their be a war, there hasn't been a war in years!"
Exclaimed Murry.
"I really do hope I'm wrong, I don't think I'm ready to fight in a war"
says Red.
Murry shakes his head.
"I don't think any of us are ready for a war."

General Pavier and Officer Mavis are standing around a table in the war room accompanied by the Ambassador and his guards who are standing on either side of the closed reinforced steel door.

"Ran'thar is about to be destroyed, the council of magic have been corrupted, they've turned their powers against us, we are defenseless. We need the federations help, without it our proud race will perish"
says the Ambassador.
General Pavier sinks his head into his palms and turns away from the table.
"A war, one this grand in my life time, never would I have thought it to be"
Says the General
"There's no time to ponder on warfare, please just tell me the Federation will help"
The General turns back to the table and nods.
"Of course! The Federation will help, we will fight in a war for the Yul'Ran, but how long do you think we have until the council begin destroying Ran'Thar?
The Ambassador thinks for a moment.
"No more than three days, word has not gotten far"
"Officer Mavis, alert all commanding officers, we're going to war"

title: The Zull Empire

question: Why does the Academy & Council of Magic despise the Federation?

answer: Because the use of technology by the Federation has resulted in less use of magic and so the magic skills are drifting away.

question: Why does General Pavier contact the federation for help?

answer: There is going to be a war and only the federation can help the Yu'Ran to prevent destruction by the council of magic.

question: Is it a good omen if you're reading the note written by Mal Tun?

answer: Mal Tun records that if you are reading the note then things have likely turned out for the worst. She expects the events of the night to rock the entire universe.

question: Why in Mal Tun's opinion will the council use the power of magic as a force for evil.

answer: She doesn't know why because there has been peace for a long time now.

question: Who are Murry and Red?

answer: They are soldiers from the largest military ever known.

question: Where do Murry and Red live?

answer: They live in the Federation Fortress.

question: Who's home is in danger?

answer: The ambassador's home is in danger.