text:
President Donald Trump’s meeting with Russian President Vladimir Putin on Monday morning, in which Trump provided cover for Russia’s interference in the 2016 election, elicited some heated criticism from leading Republicans in Congress. This prompted an obvious question: Would Republicans put their money where their mouth is and actually use their power to punish Trump?

Well, House Speaker Paul Ryan was asked that question at Tuesday presser — and he made it clear the answer was no, at least as far as the GOP leadership was concerned.

Here’s the key exchange between Ryan and a reporter:

  RYAN: I understand the desire and the need to have good relations. That’s perfectly reasonable. But Russia is a menacing government that does not share our interests and does not share our values. And I think that should be made very, very clear.

  REPORTER: What could you do? You guys are a co-equal branch of government. What could you do to make sure he [Trump] doesn’t do something ...

  RYAN: Here’s what we can do, and here’s what we have already done — which is to put sanctions on Russia. ... We’d already put in place sanctions. If the [House] Foreign Affairs Committee or the Financial Service Committee — or the Senate Banking Committee — think that there are other sanctions that we have not yet put in place on Russia, I’m more than happy to consider those.

Note how weaselly Ryan’s answer is. The question wasn’t, “What are you doing to punish Russia?” It was, “How can you constrain Trump from cozying up even more to Putin?” That isn’t a problem that can be solved by new sanctions. It would require passing legislation that puts limits on the president’s power to change US policy on a whole host of foreign policy issues (like Ukraine or Syria), or block Trump from firing special counsel Robert Mueller and ending the Russia collusion probe.

But doing something like that would, of course, provoke a major fight with Trump. Ryan is so unwilling to do that he won’t even think about proposing such measures. Instead, he moves to the safer ground of hypothetical new Russia sanctions that may never actually emerge and that wouldn’t really constrain Trump from changing US policy on Russia.

This speaks to a vital point about the GOP’s “backlash” against the Putin meeting. Ultimately, congressional Republicans mostly care more about staying in Trump’s good graces — and avoiding a fight that could jeopardize their legislative agenda and anger the pro-Trump base before the upcoming midterm elections — than about the ways that Trump is taking a hammer to decades of US foreign policy on Russia and other issues.

Republicans in Congress simply place a higher value on party unity than on the foreign policy principles they claim to stand for. If they didn’t, Ryan would actually be talking about new laws to constrain Trump.

That isn’t a value judgment, or even necessarily a criticism. There’s a case, from the Republican point of view, for refusing to cross Trump even when he tramples on years of conservative orthodoxy.

But Ryan isn’t making that case. He, and the rest of the mainstream GOP, is trying desperately to pretend that you can be anti-Putin and pro-Trump. But Monday’s presser made it clear that’s impossible.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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question: Why was Paul Ryan unwilling to partake in any measure to constrain Donald Trump?

answer: President Donald Trump's meeting with Russian President Vladimir Putin has sparked a backlash with the mainstream media who thinks Trump's cover for Russia's 2016 election interference was inappropriate. Questions have been leveled at Republicans like Paul Ryan about what they will do to bring the president to order. Unfortunately, Ryan (Republican House Speaker) has sidestepped the question, talking about what to do to sanction Russia instead. Ryan's answer made it clear that the Republicans are afraid of Trump, even when he tramples on their party's traditional and orthodoxy.


split: test

text:
“The problem right now is that everything, EVERYTHING, from academia to public utilities to politics, everything that goes woke... eventually breaks down.”

Fox News host Tucker Carlson and his guest, conservative YouTube personality Dave Rubin, both insisted Tuesday night that the wildfires burning across California are due largely to progressive ideology, “woke” culture, and diversity in hiring.

During Tuesday’s broadcast of _Tucker Carlson Tonight_, Carlson welcomed on Rubin, a political commentator and podcaster, to discuss the issues surrounding the large fires engulfing the state, including those related to the electrical grid and firefighting methods.

“PG&E strikes me as almost a metaphor for the destruction of the state,” Carlson said about the state’s power company. “Here’s the utility which doesn’t really know anything about its own infrastructure but knows everything about the race of its employees. How did we get there?”

After noting that he lives near one of the fires in the Los Angeles area, Rubin immediately took aim at liberal politics as the main reason the wildfires have grown so large and dangerous.

“The problem right now is that everything, EVERYTHING, from academia to public utilities to politics, everything that goes woke, that buys into this ridiculous progressive ideology that cares about what contractors are LGBT or how many black firemen we have or white this or Asian that, everything that goes that road eventually breaks down,” he declared.

As Carlson nodded and said “that’s true,” Rubin continued, complaining that this isn’t how “freedom is supposed to operate.”

“What is supposed to happen—imagine if your house was on fire,” he added. “Would you care what the public utility or what the fire company, what contractor they brought in, what gender or sexuality or any of those things he or she was? It’s just absolutely ridiculous.”

The Fox News host continued to agree with Rubin, who went on to tie PG&E’s preemptive blackouts to a lack of “libertarian or conservative-minded people in California to fight what the progressives are doing to the state.”

“If you can’t keep the lights on and you can’t keep the place from burning down, you’ve reached the point where there is no kind of lying about it anymore,” Carlson concluded. “It’s falling apart. It’s a disaster. It’s not civilized anymore.”

question: What do Tucker Carlson and Dave Rubin blame the California wildfires on?

answer: They claim that political "wokeness" is the root cause of these wildfires.

question: What do Tucker Carlson and Dave Rubin claim the problem with PG&E is?

answer: They claim the problem with PG&E is that they "don't really know anything about its own infrastructure."

question: Does Rubin claim that wokeness is freedom?

answer: No, Rubin claims that freedom is not supposed to operate like that.

question: What does Tucker Carlson and Dave Rubin claim happen to things that "go woke?"

answer: Tucker Carlson and Dave Rubin claim that everything that "goes woke" eventually breaks down.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Tucker Carlson and Dave Rubin blame California's wildfires on the "wokeness" of their utilities and politicians. They go on and complain that this mindset is not freedom, and claim that if there were more conservatives in California they wouldn't be having these problems.


text:
[Dr. Jack Ramsay]
  ----
  []
  ----

ALSO SEE
Former NBA player, coach Costello dies at 70
Friday, December 14, 2001
Costello was intense player and coach
BY DR. JACK RAMSAY
ESPN.com
[]
Larry Costello loved everything about the game of basketball. An old-school type, he was a solidly built 6-1 guard, deceptively quick with a great first step and deadly with a two-hand set shot. He was a coach-on-the-floor that ran the offense according to the game plan and was the first line of defense at the perimeter. He wore his hair cropped short, looked and was a tough, fiercely competitive, all-business, all-team kind of a guy. Drafted by the Philadelphia Warriors in 1954, he was sold to the Syracuse Nationals in 1957 -- a not uncommon practice in those days of fragile finances among NBA franchises -- and had six productive years (five All-Star game appearances) for the Nats before that franchise moved to Philadelphia as the 76ers.

[Larry Costello]
LARRY COSTELLO COACHED THE MILWAUKEE BUCKS TO THE NBA TITLE IN 1971.
Costello played two years with Philadelphia, retiring from the NBA in 1965. However, he couldn't stay away from the game completely and played a season for Wilkes-Barre in the Eastern Basketball League. Alex Hannum had coached Costello at Syracuse and was a huge admirer of both his demeanor and complete game. When Hannum became coach of the Sixers in 1966, he coaxed Costy out of retirement to anchor his backcourt. Costello and Hall of Famer Hal Greer were the starting guards on that team until Costy tore an Achilles tendon. The Sixers were 44-4 at that point in the season. Wally Jones filled Costy's spot as Philadelphia went on to establish a then-record 68-13 regular season, and took the NBA Championship. Costello returned at the end of that season and played briefly in two playoff games.

Costy was highly focused on personal conditioning. Matt Guokas, a rookie member of the championship team, remembers coming to practice early only to find Costello already in a full sweat as he finished his two-hour preparation for the team workout. Costy was the first player that I saw work out on his own for a couple of hours -- stretching, rope-jumping and calisthenics -- on the afternoon of a game day.

Guokas also recalls that at training camp with that team, Hannum advised him and fellow rookie Billy Melchionni to model their work ethic after that of Costy and Hal Greer. "You two are very fortunate to have Hal and Costy on the same team with you. They are very professional...and kind. They'll help you, rather than hurt you like a lot of veterans would do." Matt said, in retrospect, he didn't notice either being anything but physically aggressive.

Costello took that same dedication to his career in coaching, which began with the Milwaukee Bucks in 1968-69 season. In his second season, the Bucks drafted Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (then Lew Alcindor). Costy drew up an offense similar to the "triangle" style that has gained so much recognition with the champion Chicago Bulls and L.A. Lakers. Costello's offense was designed to involve Abdul-Jabbar on every possession. In that season, the Bucks won 56 games. The next year (1971), the team acquired Oscar Robertson, Abdul-Jabbar led the league in scoring, and the Bucks won the NBA title.

Jack McKinney, an assistant to Costello at Milwaukee from 1974-76, says that Costy had a playbook that included over 80 plays; about half of which were designed for getting the ball to Kareem. McKinney credits Costello for giving Kareem a positive start to his great NBA career.

"Costy was obsessed with the game of basketball, and was always thinking up new plays. Whenever we'd lose a game, Costy would come to practice the next day with a new play or two. The players would sometimes roll their eyes as the playbook grew larger and larger, but the plays always worked."

Costello was a tireless worker himself. Guokas later played for Chicago while Costello coached the Bucks, and remembers seeing Costy in the stands in Chicago any time the Bucks were idle and the Bulls had a home game. Costello would drive down from Milwaukee, make notes on the Bulls and opposing teams, and then structure his offense and defense against those teams accordingly. Guokas recalls that the Bucks always took away the first options of any play they ran.

Costello expected his players to be as consumed with the game as he was. He drove them hard, was often caustic, and criticized them freely. His coach-player relationships were not always harmonious. He couldn't care less.

Costy loved talking X's and O's, and was seldom without his coaching note pad. I enjoyed exchanging ideas with him -- usually at coaches meetings. At the conclusion of those chats, he often complained that players no longer had the drive and dedication that they had when he played.

He was probably right. There have been very few before or since that played with the intensity of Larry Costello.

[]

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question: Summarize Larry's rendezvous with basketball.

answer: Larry loved basketball and was a 6-1 guard. He was the first line of defense at the perimeter and ran the offense too. Philadelphia Warriors drafted him in 1954 and he was later sold to the Syracuse Nationals in 1957. He then had six productive years for them before he moved to the 76ers in Philadelphia.

question: Summarize Costello's career as a coach.

answer: Costello retired from the NBA in 1965 but couldn't stay away from basketball. He was coaxed out of retirement by Alex Hannum to anchor his backcourt for the Sixers. He was a dedicated player who worked hard to get his practice right. This is the same spirit he took into his coaching career for Milwaukee Bucks from 1968-69. They drafted Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Costello came up with strategies to get the ball to him. He led the Bucks to win the NBA title in 1972.

question: Summarize the married life of Costello.


text:
I was hungry. I was out of frozen waffles. I wanted a burrito.
I got off the couch for the first time in what seemed like days. Well, probably because it was days. It's Wednesday, and I've been lying down watching whatever was on G4 since Sunday. I even dragged the microwave and a mini-fridge over to the end of the sofa. I only had one T.V., which I kept in my living room. Which meant my wallet was in my bedroom. Which meant standing up and walking... I thought this to be strenuous, in my condition of laziness.
I walked down the hall toward my bedroom. I reached for the doorknob, and to my surprise, it was cracked open just a tiny bit. I did not feel worried about this, why should've I been? I just overlooked it and searched for my wallet.
I glimpsed upwards, and saw my bed sheet move a bit, as if something had brushed it. At this point, I was unsettled, at least to an extent. I shook it off to the best of my ability. They say after you see or hear something that makes you any even barely nervous your imagination kicks in and you begin to think things happen, or they become more intensified. I assumed this was the case. I told myself that I needed to find my wallet.
It was resting underneath my bed. I continued to scan the shadowed area after putting it in my back pocket. I honestly expected to see something; horror movies include scenes similar to this situation. There was nothing.
I turned off the light and closed my door. Everything seemed to stop for a second- it was similar to the brief feeling of non-existence that comes over each of us occasionally (or is that just me?).
As I stepped into the hallway, an awful feeling indescribable came over me. Sinister things seemed to be hiding in the unnaturally dark corners. I felt an extreme sense of uneasiness, like I needed to jump out of my own skin- although I was surprisingly calm, or at least appeared so- and ran down the stairs skipping every other step.
I was shaking- what had just happened? I felt like I should have shaken it off, but I dismissed the feeling. Immediately after taking a breather, the eccentric feeling came back- but differently, stranger. It was… more intense.
The edges of my vision were fading to an extreme black, but not evenly. I could no longer hear, or feel (I only realized this afterwards). Strange thoughts, images, coursed through my mind, indescribable except for one outstanding quality: immense maliciousness.
The things I witnessed were not visions- they were horrors.
I watched a man with a large gash through his stomach, and half of his intestines hanging out. He was desperately gasping for air, seeming to know his efforts would have no effect.
I saw a man, standing still emotionless, and holding something in his hand… In a flash he opened his hand, switched his grip, and flashed a knife through the air and across his throat. He collapsed; went limp as if nothing had happened. Slight deep laughter is all I could hear. Now you would think seeing a man slitting his throat would be over quickly, but trust me, it is not.
These were not the only things I saw. The rest are too graphic, too horrific to be spoken of.
Somehow, everything that had happened then only occurred within a mere nineteen seconds. I stood up slowly, regaining my sense of hearing and feeling. I glanced to the left- and dear GOD this... This THING. STARING at me (to this day I wonder how my situation and outcome would have differed if I would not have looked in the direction of it).
It was slightly taller than I. It was breathing heavy, angrily. Its head was tilted at about a sixty-degree angle toward the ground, though its dark green radiating eyes malevolently stared at me. It was bony, a brownish maroon color and had unnatural lumps in various places. Its arms were long; they reached just below its waist.
I stared at it, horrified, my jaw was dropped. It looked at me, and without warning let out a blood-curdling cry without taking even a breath or even looking around. The only thing that happened physically noticeable on this hell-spawn was its eyes... They... Turned backwards and exponentially faded to a pitch-black shade, devoid of color or light.
I was frozen, paralyzed. I fell over, unable to move! It seemed to find pleasure in this. It stopped making the horrific noise and crouched down leisurely. It took my ankle in one hand, faced the other way, and stabbed something into my carpet. It sliced side to side quickly and pulled. Thoughts raced through my head at amazing speed. I wondered what was happening. I questioned if this was karma. I even wondered if I was on a sick reality T.V. show.
The monster
(thing)
seemed to crawl into its wormhole it created and dragged me closer to it. It was dark, and felt damp. There were dark orange lights that flickered with a yellow or red tint occasionally. It was silent except for the growing screams that sometimes could be heard. I never believed this place actually carried the smell of brimstone. I gave a look to the crack showing my house. It was rapidly shrinking.
Suddenly, without a sign of anything, it was like I rushed back into reality. In a split second- I assume it was the natural survival instinct everyone has- I launched my forearm at the crevice.
I caught the edge.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the demon-spawn becoming enraged.
And oh, the noise it made! The sound was demonic, the most malicious sound I could ever come close to describing.
It pierced my mind- my thoughts were blocked out completely for a short time.
The horror's eyes turned a deathly black. Its mouth got about one and a half times larger in height while it doubled in width.
Its teeth were a dark bluish-black tint. The throat was void of light. It was the most terrifying thing I've seen in my life.
I just barely had the necessary mental strength to throw my head in the other direction, but I somehow managed.
My hand still on the ever-shrinking portal to the real world, my fingers slipped in between the dark red fiery roof of wherever I was and the floor of my home.
There was a horizontal separation that I barely had my knuckles inside. I started to pry it apart. With raw determination and shouting with rage the entire way, I crawled into the barely open tear.
The pain was indescribable- beyond excruciating.
Simultaneously the demon's grip on my leg was lost and the crevice closed.
I crawled out onto the dark gray dirt, and when I opened my eyes to the sky, the only thing that surprised me was its lack of the normally abundant color.
I had no idea where I was. I stood up, shaky and slightly in shock from what had just happened to me.
One thing was for sure: it was dark here. Except for the irregular flickering of white fire, or at least what seemed like flames.
The environment did not come across as demonic, unlike wherever I last was. However, it was not a necessarily happy place.
This new world was silent, minus the occasional wild-grass movement from the slightest wind.
I spent hours roaming… it wasn't long until I assumed the hours faded into days. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. I roamed through this universe in which hunger was non-existent and which sleep had no purpose.
On a rare occasion I could see a blurred version of what seemingly was a squirrel or rabbit. If I started towards it, the distortion would disappear as quickly as it came. If I followed it, the same thing would happen in a matter of time. I never got close enough to touch it.
Except once.
This blur was exceptionally large; unlike the others I’ve previously seen. I spent a good thirty seconds questioning what it could be before concluding it must’ve been human. This was the first time in God knows how long I’ve been here.
The blur was less than five feet from me- the closest I have ever been to one. I was getting closer…. Four feet… three feet, two… and then it slowly drifted away from me. I decided I would not let this one get away, as I didn’t know how long it would take for a large distortion like this to come along again.
I followed it far out of the forest I made what I called my home in. I followed for hours that turned into days. It stopped periodically for short amounts of time. It brought me to what seemed like a collapsed city.
There was a section of a highway, maybe about twenty feet long with each end warped and crumbled. I could make out houses, but they too were collapsed in or deteriorating.
The figure seemed to know where it was going. It made its way through the city streets, through destroyed subways and around broken down shops. It seemed to pursue vacant skyscrapers and stalk vast barren wastelands.
Finally stopping in a run-down home, it stopped in a chair in front of a desk with a computer. The room it was in was significantly vivid, and I could tell the being I’d been trailing was a male. My senses were functioning incredibly well; superior to the time I spent in my original dimension. I could tell that the coffee that he had was cold and had sat out for a few days. I could tell what was crossing his mind- what he was thinking.
He was a writer. He had writer’s block. I knew how to help.
I leaned over and began to whisper thoughts into his ear, into his mind. I said to him,
“I was hungry. I was out of frozen waffles. I wanted a burrito.”
He was writing it. He smiled. He liked the idea and was pleased with it, since writer's block had been pinning him down after the loss of his eight year old daughter.
I whispered my entire experience to him and he wrote it down. I tried not to overwhelm him with ideas, so I laid out the story over a few weeks.
Eventually, he was done; there was no more that I could tell. I was finished with him as he was with 'his' story.
Epilogue
I've been following the man for a few days after he finished the short story. I'm telling him how the story ends as he writes it:
The writer gets up and forces his head through the wall without changing his expression or showing pain or emotion.
*He executes this*
The writer moves to a new spot and slams through the wall once again.
*He repeats himself*
There is blod tricklig down his forehed. He is geting nauseas but doesnt realisse it. He gets up and creetes the thrd hole.
*once again, the writer makes a new hole in the wall*
Fore wals ar in the gole.
*the writer slumps over and the blood gushes from his indented forehead.*
(Note: Sentences that begin and end with asterisks were the sentences that I wrote)

title: Lost Halfway (For lack of a better name)

question: What does the weather seem like?

answer: It may be implied that it's summer since the narrator wanted frozen waffles.

question: Does the 'thing' staring at the narrator cause any harm?

answer: No, the 'thing' does not cause any significant harm besides the occasional screaming that annoys the man.

question: What would have happened had the man not helped the writer?

answer: It may be implied that the writer would still be suffering from writer's block.


text:
FRANKFURT (Reuters) - Germany has banned arms exports to Turkey over its assault against Kurdish YPG militia in Syria, a foreign ministry spokeswoman said on Saturday.

Turkey launched the military operation on Wednesday after U.S. President Donald Trump withdrew some U.S. troops who had been backing Kurdish forces in the fight against Islamic State.

The United States and European Union have already warned Turkey of possible sanctions over the offensive.

“Against the backdrop of the Turkish military offensive... , the Federal Government will not issue any new permits for all military equipment that could be used by Turkey in Syria”, Foreign Minister Heiko Maas said, according to the spokeswoman.

The comment confirmed a report in weekly Bild Am Sonntag.

Turkey’s foreign minister Mevlüt Cavusoglu said that his country was undeterred by bans or embargoes.

“No matter what anyone does, no matter if it’s an arms embargo or anything else, it just strengthens us,” he told German radio station Deutsche Welle ahead of the publication of Maas’ statements.

“Even if our allies support the terrorist organization, even if we stand alone, even if an embargo is imposed, no matter what they do, our fight is against the terrorist organization”, Cavusoglu said.

Germany exported arms worth 243 million euros ($268 million) to Turkey in 2018, accounting for almost one third of its weapons exports, according to Bild Am Sonntag.

In the first four months of 2019, Turkey received weapons from Germany worth 184 million euros, making it the biggest recipient country, the paper said.

Defence Minister Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer said on Friday that Germany expected all NATO partners - which include Turkey - to contribute toward stabilizing the region.

Reporting by Arno Schuetze; Editing by John Stonestreet and Raissa Kasolowsky

for-phone-onlyfor-tablet-portrait-upfor-tablet-landscape-upfor-desktop-upfor-wide-desktop-up

question: Why is Germany banning arms exports to Turkey?

answer: Over its assault against Kurdish militia in Syria.

question: How is the US and EU warning Turkey?

answer: They are warning of possible sanctions over the offensive.

question: What is Turkey's response to the warnings?

answer: foreign minister Cavusoglu said that his country was undeterred by bans or embargoes

question: What is Germany expecting?

answer: That all NATO partners, including Turkey, to contribute toward stabilizing the region.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer:
Germany has banned arms exports to Turkey after its assault against Kurdish militia in Syria.
The US and EU have warned Turkey of possible sanctions over the offensive. However, Turkey's foreign minister has said that his country was undeterred by bans or embargoes.


text:
6.30am. “It could be worse”, he muttered under frozen breath. The bus trundled past him remorselessly, gradually fading into the frosty distance. He would have made it only he had to placate a distressed 2 year old who didn’t think too kindly of him going to work today. “Great start”, he mused as he turned to start the walk towards the tram station. An option which entailed a ten minute walk either side of a 20 minute tram ride. His wife worked locally which afforded her more time at home in the mornings.

For over 20 years now he had been traversing Dublin city daily to the insurance company offices situated in the financial district on the less salubrious north side of the inner city. An area of the city best avoided outside of necessity he thought.

That said, however, somehow the juxtaposition of (mostly) sober suits and gaunt, shuffling, glass eyed drug addicts and ne’er do wells seemed to function rather well as if one had become used to ignoring the other as a matter of course.

The daily commute was necessitated by 2 rather large mortgages and child care bills for their 2 children. They had bought an apartment 5 years previously when still single and childless. Houses were too expensive for their means at the time due to effects of Ireland’s property boom/bubble which pushed property prices to hugely unrealistic levels. Fortunately they had not bought at the very peak of the property boom but they were currently in negative equity and would be for some years yet. Ireland had experienced a property bubble fuelled by cheap credit with banks bending over backwards to offer people mortgages/loans regardless of prudence or future ability to repay. This in turn led to inflated governmental coffers due to enormous stamp duty returns. This then led to the powers that be turning a blind eye to the obvious eventual consequences of such a boom and bust cycle which was so clearly playing out in pain view for all to see. Dissenting voices warned of the inevitable crash to come and the government countered with talk of a “soft landing” to reassure the masses that they had a handle on matters and knew what they were doing.

When the fall happened it was brutal. Exacerbated by the world financial crisis Ireland entered a downward spiral of failing banks and escalating national debt which eventually led to a bail out by the European powers who took the reins of Ireland economic sovereignty and assumed the role of fiscal overlords for the following number of years.

The birth of their first child eventually meant they needed more space than their apartment afforded. Their assumption was that in the prevailing economic environment any bank would have expected them to sell the apartment before issuing a new mortgage for another (larger) property. To their surprise, and after a number of refusals, one bank agreed to issue mortgage approval for a house and allow them retain the apartment as a rental property. They rented their apartment successfully (so far) and had found a house in good location which suited family and transport links and their second child arrived shortly thereafter.

Fortuitously they both managed to retain their above average (if less than stellar) salaries throughout this uncertain period of financial armageddon and did not feel any real pinch from budgetary adjustments until almost the end of the European bailout programme. Even then it was more a case of not being able to put as much aside as before and experiencing the occasional (yet increasing) necessity to dip into existing savings. Reaching the tram station he broke his train of thought and nodded to the newspaper distributor who smiled and handed him a copy of the free newssheet they distributed daily. Descending the flight of stairs he read an opinion piece discussing how successive budgets had massively increased the onus upon those taxed at source. Tell me about it he thought, Even more so if you happened to own any property in addition to your primary residence. Property tax had been introduced, domestic water charges were on the way. Tax on deposit interest was now at penal levels. The government even introduced a “temporary” pension levy essentially stealing citizen’s pension money. Not much incentive to put something aside for a rainy day. It seemed that the wolf had moved from circling the perimeter to knocking on the door. The reality of being only a few pay checks from being unable to service their obligations was increasingly pervasive, like a brain worm furrowing ever deeper. Against that backdrop who could blame him for taking an opportunistic punt?

The oil exploration company was called Excobex. They planned to drill off the southern coast of Ireland. Excobex stock was listed on the alternative Investment Exchange. It was a sure thing, once they secured funding to drill that is. The share price was currently “artificially” low due to the unusually low oil price at present. But he believed that would not last for long. Eventually oil price would rise again, a funding partner would announce themselves and the share price would be re-rated to multiples of its current value. He had secretly cashed in post office bonds and certs, index funds and other equities with less potential return and plunged everything into Excobex shares in one fell swoop. It was only a matter of time until they struck oil. Then he would reap enormous rewards. Enough to make their lives very comfortable and enable his wife to leave her job and spend more time with the children, maybe he could work part-time or do something he actually enjoyed instead? Fortune favours the brave he thought at the time, be greedy when others are fearful. He reasoned that if you don’t take chances you cannot reap commensurate rewards.

He turned to the business page of the newssheet.  His breath caught in his chest, his heart skipped a beat. He read the headline again and again. "I guess it could be worse," he told himself, at least he had kept up the payments on his comprehensive life assurance. Looking around he found himself becoming irrationally annoyed by his fellow commuters. With that thought he dropped the newspaper at his feet, stepped from the platform and met the underside of the oncoming 7.15 tram with a sickening crunch. Screams echoed around the platform as realisation struck the early morning commuters. On the platform the newspaper fluttered against the side of a metal bench. The blood speckled business page was still clearly visible to passer-by’s: “Excobex Oil Campaign dead in water, trail of corruption leaves Investors wiped out”.

title: It could be worse [MF] 1st attempt at shortstory

question: What happens to the protagonist in the end?

answer: The protagonist has invested in a risky oil venture. He has loads of debt and a wife and children that depend on him. He is on the bus when he turns to the business page of his newspaper. He sees an article about the demise of the company in which he has invested. All his family has left now is his sizable life insurance. So he steps under another tram and kills himself.

question: How did the protagonist end up with two mortgages?

answer: They had bought an apartment 5 years previously when still single and childless. Houses were too expensive for their means at the time. The birth of their first child eventually meant they needed more space than their apartment afforded. A bank agreed to issue mortgage approval for a house and allow them to retain the apartment as a rental property. They rented their apartment successfully (so far) and had found a house in a good location

question: How did the protagonist meet his wife?


text:
TIMOFEY NASTYUKHIN (Russian: Тимофей Настюхин; born on November 24, 1989), is a Russian mixed martial artist. He is a former FILA Pankration world champion. He made his MMA debut in 2010 and currently competes in ONE Championship.[1][2][3] Nastyukhin is currently ranked #4 in the ONE lightweight rankings.[4]

Background

Nastyukhin was born in the Soviet Kazakhstan, but after the fall of the Soviet Union, his family moved to Siberia. He was bullied for his Kazakh heritage and took up martial arts as a way to combat bullying he received. Nastyukhin found success in Pankration where he became a four-time national champion and a two-time European champion.[5][6]

Nastyukhin's success in Pankration made the transition to mixed martial arts seamless.

Mixed martial arts career

Nastyukhin made his MMA debut on April 26, 2010 at Siberian League: Siberia vs. Ural. He lost via rear-naked choke to Magomed Guseinov. Nastyukhin was only 18-years-old at the time of his debut, and after the loss he took nearly three years away from active competition to improve his skill set.[7]

On April 8, 2013, Nastyukhin returned to action and began a seven-fight win streak that would lead to his signing to ONE Championship against Dmitry Ermolaev at Siberian League: Siberia vs. Kazakhstan. He won via triangle choke in the first round.

ONE Championship

On December 5, 2014, Nastyukhin debuted in ONE Championship against Eduard Folayang. He made an instant impact with a first-round knockout by way of a flying knee and soccer kicks in the first round.[8]

At ONE: Defending Honor on November 11, 2016, Nastyukhin squared off against Kotetsu Boku. During the first round, Nastyukhin broke his leg. Although he was able to finish the round, a ringside physician called a stop to the bout. Nastyukhin would not return until August 2017.[9][10]

In the opening round of the ONE Championship Lightweight World Grand Prix on March 31, 2019, Nastyukhin was matched up with the debuting Eddie Alvarez. Alvarez, a former Bellator and UFC lightweight world champion, was seeking another major championship. Nastyukhin stunned the world with a first-round TKO over Alvarez. However, due to injury, Nastyukhin would not be able to advance to the next round and compete in the semi-finals.[11][12]

On November 6, 2020, Nastyukhin returned to action and faced #3-ranked lightweight Pieter Buist at ONE Championship: Inside the Matrix 2 in a ONE lightweight title eliminator. He won the fight by unanimous decision and secured a title shot against ONE Lightweight World Champion Christian Lee.[13]

Mixed martial arts record

|- |Win |align=center|14–4 |Pieter Buist |Decision (unanimous) |ONE Championship: Inside the Matrix 2 || |align=center|3 |align=center|5:00 |Kallang, Singapore | |- |- |Win |align=center|13–4 |Eddie Alvarez |TKO (punches) |ONE Championship: A New Era || |align=center|1 |align=center|4:05 |Tokyo, Japan | |- |- |Loss |align=center|12–4 |Saygid Guseyn Arslanaliev |KO (punches) |ONE Championship: Conquest of Heroes || |align=center|1 |align=center|1:57 |Jakarta, Indonesia | |- |- |Win |align=center|12–3 |Amir Khan |Decision (unanimous) |ONE Championship: Quest for Gold || |align=center|3 |align=center|5:00 |Yangon, Myanmar | |- |- |Win |align=center|11–3 |Koji Ando |Decision (unanimous) |ONE Championship: Kings & Conquerors || |align=center|3 |align=center|5:00 |Macau, China | |- |- |Loss |align=center|10–3 |Kotetsu Boku |TKO (doctor stoppage) |ONE Championship: Defending Honor || |align=center|1 |align=center|5:00 |Kallang, Singapore | |- |- |Win |align=center|10–2 |Rob Lisita |KO (punch and soccer kick) |ONE Championship: Kingdom of Champions || |align=center|1 |align=center|0:06 |Bangkok, Thailand | |- |- |Loss |align=center|9–2 |Herbert Burns |Submission (rear-naked choke) |ONE Championship: Odyssey of Champions || |align=center|1 |align=center|3:26 |Jakarta, Indonesia | |- |- |Win |align=center|9–1 |Yusuke Kawanago |TKO (soccer kicks) |ONE Championship: Dynasty of Champions 2 || |align=center|1 |align=center|1:32 |Guangzhou, Guangdong, China | |- |Win |align=center|8–1 |Eduard Folayang |KO (flying knee and soccer kicks) |ONE Championship: Warrior's Way | |align=center|1 |align=center|3:11 |Manila, Philippines | |- |Win |align=center|7–1 |Sayd-Hamzat Avkhadov |KO (punch) |Absolute Championship Berkut: Grand Prix Berkut 9 | |align=center|1 |align=center|0:54 |Grozny, Russia | |- |Win |align=center|6–1 |Mairbek Makhanov |KO (punch) |Siberian League: Combat Kuzbass 2 | |align=center|1 |align=center|0:20 |Novokuznetsk, Russia | |- |Win |align=center|5–1 |Nikolay Romanschikov |Submission (triangle choke) |Altay Republik MMA League: Throwdown | |align=center|1 |align=center|0:46 |Gorno-Altaysk, Russia | |- |Win |align=center|4–1 |Shamil Rafikov |Submission (triangle choke) |Eurasian Fighting Championship: Siberian Challenge | |align=center|1 |align=center|3:52 |Barnual, Russia | |- |Win |align=center|3–1 |Levon Oganyan |TKO (punches) |Russian MMA Union: 2013 Russian MMA Super Cup | |align=center|1 |align=center|3:10 |Kemerovo, Russia | |- |Win |align=center|2–1 |Alexander Vasiliev |Submission (rear-naked choke) |White Rex: Warrior Spirit | |align=center|1 |align=center|0:33 |Novosibirsk, Russia | |- |Win |align=center|1–1 |Dmitry Yermolaev |Submission (triangle choke) |Siberian League: Siberia vs. Kazakhstan | |align=center|1 |align=center|1:30 |Novokuznetsk, Russia | |- |Loss |align=center|0–1 |Magomedsaigi Guseinov |Submission (rear-naked choke) |Siberian League: Siberia vs. Ural | |align=center|1 |align=center|5:46 |Novokuznetsk, Russia | |-

[1]  ONE Championship - Athletes|website=ONE Championship - The Home Of Martial Arts|language=en-US|access-date=2019-11-14}}

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[7]  MMA Fighter Page|website=Tapology|language=en|access-date=2019-11-14}}

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[13]

title: Timofey Nastyukhin

question: Who is Timofey Nastyukhin?

answer: He is a Russian mixed martial artist and a former Pankration world champion.

question: How did Timofey's MMA career begin?

answer: Despite being a world champion at Pankration, he lost after being put into a choke in his first match. Timofey then took three whole years to fully improve his skillset against other MMA fighters - on his return, he won seven fights in a row.

question: Did Timofey take another leave from the sport?

answer: In a match in 2016, he broke his leg when facing Kotetsu Boku. The match was stopped by a ringside physician and Timofey would not return from his injury until a year later.

question: What is Timofey's highest achievement in the mixed martial arts?

answer: In the ONE Championship, Timofey is currently ranked fourth highest.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Timofey Nastyukhin was bullied as a young boy, so he began to study and practice Pankration in order to defend himself. After rising to become a world champion in Pankration, he began a career in mixed martial arts. He lost in his first round and spent three years re-evaluating his fighting methods and learning new skills. Now he competes in the ONE Championship where he is currently the fourth in rankings.


text:
“Dear friends and colleagues, I know, that you know, that we all know, that the main attraction of this symposium is to brag about our greatest and weirdest nutjobs. We’ve all heard Dr. Johnson talk about this woman, who believed she was a glass of jam, over a coffee, or Prof. Miller explain how a suicidal man couldn’t hang himself because his extreme fear of height.”

Some people in the room started laughing, while most just nodded in agreement. Some murmuring came up around Johnson and Miller, and as soon as everything went silent again, the man at the stand continued.

“This place here in front of all of you is usually reserved for someone talking about new developments in diagnostics and therapies. But in my case, the patient himself was so intertwined with the disease, that I can’t get around him.”
Dramatic pause
“Please meet mister Theo Bog!”

As soon as these words were said, a picture was projected on the giant screen behind the presenter. it was a portrait shot of a man in his mid-forties. A long beard, fuzzy hair, thick eyebrows and an awkward smile looked aimlessly into the audience. Even though his eyes were dampened, maybe because of a cataract, it felt as if they had seen a lot and had a shine of knowledge.

“This man came to me by himself. He didn’t have any money, nor an insurance. He claimed, that he needed help, because he would soon fall back into his old god complex. When I asked him, why he couldn’t go back to his old therapist, he told me that it was because Ernest Jones was dead.”

Unruly whispers arose among the doctors and professors.

“As most of you certainly know, Mr. Jones was a good friend of Sigmund Freud and one of the first practitioners of psychoanalysis. As such he was active until a few months before his death in 1958.
Theo Bog, a man who is 35 years old in the year 2017, claims to have been cured of a god complex by it’s inventor, who has long since been dead.

Of course it isn’t that unusual for somebody to believe to be a historically important figure or to just believe to have met with someone who has been dead for a long time. And during our sessions he told me about his therapy.
He explained me, how he had thought to have been god, and how mister Jones helped him by argumentatively disproving such a higher, all-knowing being. The problem was, that he started to forget these arguments and as such started to fall back into believing to be god.

The first thing I tried, was to make clear that he couldn’t have met with Mr. Jones. But this turned out to be impossible, as Bog obviously had done thorough research. He knew a lot of odds and quirks about his first therapist. I even let him meet with an old Student of Jones, but this was only counterproductive, as they ended up agreeing that they both had known the same man.”

What followed could best be described as a giant collective facepalm. The reasons behind it were different though. Some thought, that this unexpected outcome was a worst case, rendering poor Theo unstoppable in his belief, while others were shocked that somebody would let a psychologically critical case meet up with a former student who must be in his 90ies by now.

One man in the audience stood up. It was Dr. Johnson. He made eye contact with the man at the microphone and, as soon as the room was calm enough for him to speak, he asked a question: “Dr. Parthrow, you yourself implied before, that you’re here to tell us about a new development. Would you please come to the point?”

A aly grin hushed over the presenters face, then he continued: “Of course, of course. Now that I’ve presented you with my case, I’ll show you the solution I’ve found. I’m particularly proud of it because of its simplicity.
I went online. I searched for a polite, atheistic community, and signed him up there. It’s absolutely amazing, how easily people can be swayed. It took Theo two days to go back to a normal life, and one month later he already had a job.

What do we learn from this? Sometimes absurd and weird ways solutions are really easy. While I don’t know if the same therapy would have worked with any other patient, I’m confident, that this story will help you find new ways to cure illnesses. With this I’m finished. Are there any questions?”

-

Several years later a young and dynamic Theo left the office building. He looked like thirty now, though he knew that he was about ten years older. Thanks to the internet actually, he knew everything.

title: [MF] The Patient

question: Summarize the various forms of treatment attmempted for Theo Bog.

answer: The narrator tried to make it clear to Bog that he couldn't have met with Mr. Jones. He also introduced him to a student of Jones. In the end, he signed Bog up for an online atheistic community.

question: What does the story say about the job Theo gets one month after his treatment?

question: Summarize Theo's delusions.

answer: Theo has a god complex, believing that he is actually a deity. He also deludedly believes that he was treated by Mr. Jones, who died in 1958.


text:
A Dead Man's Dream Log.

	I suppose our story-- no, my story begins several months ago. My name is Joseph, and I am twenty-three years old. My last name, frankly, is unimportant, and my first is yours to know just for the sake of putting a name to a character. Her name... was Alora.
	I woke up for work at the same time I always did, in the same position, in the same bed. I removed my arms from around Alora, attempting not to wake her. I was successful, and about this I felt much joy, maybe for the last time. My routine was simple, shower, shave, dress, leave without making to much noise. She had to leave for work two hours later, and I was sympathetic to the fact she didn't get much sleep. Looking back, I deem the long hours and conflicting schedules were what led our relationship into a steady, if not imperceptible decline.
	At my work, there was a girl by the name of Emmy. Emmy was a born flirt, and preyed on unavailable men, namely myself. Over the past few months she had made obvious signs that she was interested in me, and I felt the same attraction. I felt like I needed to commit some lude act, or I would die of boredom.
	With Alora, the only time she was not cumbersome to be around was when she was asleep. When we were together, things no longer had the same luster. My attraction to her had grown miniscule. I wasn't sure exactly why I had stayed with her. Maybe it was the guilt of leaving her because she was not as entertaining as she had once been.
	After work, Emmy and I would sit inside her car and talk. She would tell me stories that I honestly didn't pay much attention to, because my eyes were usually elsewhere. God, that girl could talk. After our one-way chats, I would grab a bite to eat at a fast food restaurant, then go home to watch TV and go to bed. In the morning, I would begin another thrilling installment in the life of Joseph.
	What was strange was when I got home that night, Alora was still in bed, asleep. I just assumed she had gotten off work early, and thought nothing of it. I ate my greasy burger, and before I was halfway through my usual mindless channel flipping, I was out. I woke up to a sticky note on the TV asking me if I had a long night. Alora claimed to had tried to wake me, but I wouldn't budge. She said she was sorry for sleeping all day, and didn't know what had happened. I smiled and walked to the bedroom to get my clothes for my daily shower, and I noticed she was in bed. I sat at the foot of the bed and tickled her feet, which was her most sensitive spot. It seems like everyone’s feet are ticklish. You should try it sometime. Anyways, she tossed and turned, kicked her feet, even mumbled a little bit, but wouldn't wake up. I shrugged it off and took my shower, and before I left I responded to her post-it.

Alora,
	Tried to wake you, no cigar.
I love you, see you when I get home.
					Joseph

	On my way to work, I listened to the radio and they played a song that Alora loved. I sung the whole song, which I was used to. Except, usually it was against my will and better judgment. Man, I hated that song. I got to thinking about all the things we had done that song, and why she would like it. I guess that was when I started to miss Alora. For better or for worse, she really could make a terrible song sentimental.
	After work, Emmy followed me to my car. I had a killer headache and hadn’t eaten in some time, so I was kind of moody. She called my name and I turned around, and that was all the time she needed to pin me to my car. I hadn't even unlocked my door yet. Typical.
	“Joseph” she breathed real heavy, like she had chased me. Which, she hadn't.
	I kind of looked at her face, then looked down. I figured it would just be another one of our “talks”. I was wrong. “What, Emmy?”
	“I'm tired of trying for you, and you not noticing me. I want you to get rid of Alora and be with me.” She look flustered, like I was offending her by not looking her in the face. Women.
	“Oh..” Was about all I could muster at the time. All I heard was get rid of Alora.
	“Well? You have to make your choice now, Joseph.” I kind of looked around. She put her hand on my chest, and pushed hard against the car, and put her face in mine. I can remember her cheap perfume perfectly well. Nothing like the smell of burnt rubber to get a man's attention. That's when it went down hill. I started to fidget, and I guess she was tired of my games because that's what she told me. Her hand went behind my neck and pulled me down to her. Her lips went to mine, and all I could do was mouth “Alora” as they covered mine. My heart went into a frenzy, and so did Emmy. She jumped on me, and I guess she was expecting me to catch her. Needless to say, I didn't expect her to jump on me, and she met the ground. This gave me enough time to cry out Alora, unlock my door, and receive a rather long string of derogatory terms.
	The drive home that night was the worst drive of my life. The only thing in my head was her name. I called it out endlessly, as if that would make her forgive me. Why I did this, I'm still unsure.. I didn't ever get the chance to tell her. I opened the door, walked straight to the bedroom. I had a sick feeling she would be asleep. I hate feelings. I crawled into the bed and put my arms around her. I cried into her hair, which smelt of strawberries.. They were her favorite fruit. I guess I fell asleep there. I woke up to a notebook on the foot of the bed, with Alora still asleep in it. Today was my day off. The notebook is still burned into my brain. It read as follows:

Joseph,
	I've been looking into why our sleep patterns have been so off lately. I fall asleep at exactly every 12 hours, and I am assuming the same for you. I called my sister, and she referred me to a voodoo woman. She should arrive at noon, and I want you to let her in and tell her what's going on. She should have the materials she needs with her, and I'll be able to kiss you while your still awake in only a few hours.

p.s. Why was my hair wet when I woke up?
						Your Love,
								Alora

	I was nervous and excited. I had two hours to kill before the voodoo woman arrived, so I went out and got breakfast. When I got back to the house, she was outside in her car. She got out as I did, and asked if I was the man who lived in that home. I nodded, and we walked up to the house, I unlocked it, and we entered.
	“This home has very dark energy in it. Your girlfriend has told me that a sleeping curse has been cast upon you.” She walked about the house, and surveyed every room. If you ask me, it looked like she was assessing what she could steal.
	“I haven't seen her awake in a week now. Can you fix it?” I was much to anxious for small talk.
	She nodded and opened her brief case. “Drink this, both of you, and go to sleep. I will stay for an hour to see that everything is alright.” We poured the elixir down Alora's throat, and I drank the rest. It was like drinking chalk, with the effect of drinking twelve bottles of cough medicine. I saw shapes and animals and things I know aren't real. Ever seen a skeleton with a Ph. D? My dreams were the most beautiful of any I had ever had. Alora and I were in an open field, at night. We sat under the stars, and I held her as she slept. Funny, even in my dreams she slept.
	I woke up and gave a big stretch, the sign of a long healthy slumber. I could hear the rain pattering on the windows. I looked to my side, and my heart dropped. Alora was still asleep. I tried to wake her, and nothing happened. I panicked, and called 911. The rest is really just a blur. I just remember that the worst drive of my life was the day before the worst ride of my life.
	I was in the ambulance with her. They secured her, but they didn’t hook her up to any machines.
I thought that was a good sign. It wasn't, I later found out. I held her hand all the way to the hospital. I was in a daze as we got there. They took her too a room, and I wasn't allowed to enter. I called her family, and only her mother showed up. I guess later on, others visited, but I never noticed them. The doctor came in, and he told us that Alora had had an allergic reaction to the elixir the voodoo woman had prepared. Alora was now in a vegetative state. I blacked out.
	I woke up with my arms around Alora, in the hospital bed. I stared dumbfounded at her, trying to put everything together. I remembered the ambulance ride, the doctor.. Alora.. When you lose the love of your life, it's like losing yourself. When her family decided to pull the plug, it was like they pulled the plug on me more-so than her. I stayed in the bed for maybe a day. I cried all day, or slept. It felt like a fitting tomb. The only things in that hospital bed were corpses. The doctors would come by and say things like “That was true love.” or “He must have really loved her.” Doctors don't know anything about love. They think because they can save lives and touch hearts, they know what love is. All they do is watch it die.
	Eventually, they made me leave. I went home, and laid in bed awhile. All the memories came, and the notebook was still there. There was a message on the voice mail from Alora's sister about how the voodoo woman was a fraud. I couldn't help but smile. God really does have a cruel sense of humor. The bed became my only sense of comfort, because it held the final memory of the last time I had seen her alive. The last time I had seen her alive, she was dead.. I just hadn't known it yet. I quit my job, and took out all of the money in my savings account, and sold all my belongings, except the bed. I rent a small apartment down town now, with nothing but my bed, enough food to get by, and all the sleeping medication a family of elephants would need to overdose.
	The only time I can live is when I'm not awake. Because, in my dreams, Alora is still asleep.

title: A Dead Man's Dream Log - 1961 Words. First Attempt

question: What does the text say about sleep?

answer: Sleep makes Alora less cumbersome. Alora sleeps for most of the story. Joseph's and Alora's sleeping schedules are different because of their work schedules. Alora thinks she and Joseph are under a sleeping curse so she calls in a Voodoo woman for help. The author eventually takes sleeping pills to try to feel close to Alora.

question: Summarize a primary source of tension in the story.

answer: Emmy is a woman at work who flirts with Joseph. Joseph has been kind of bored with Alora so he spends time with Emmy. One day after work, Emmy pounces on him at his car and says he should leave Alora for her. Almost to his surprise, all he can think of is Alora and he leaves Emmy there the first chance he gets.

question: What does the story say about Joseph's background?


text:
Kat Sullivan was 17 when she met Scott Sargent, her soccer coach at Emma Willard School (EWS) in Troy, New York, where she was a boarding student. Sullivan says Sargent raped her at his on-campus apartment—and that when she sought help from school administrators, they instead pressured her to withdraw from the school. Sargent admitted wrongdoing, but was allowed to resign; the school later recommended him for a teaching position at King School in Stamford, Connecticut, where he was terminated in 2005 for similar behavior.

In 2016, Sullivan reported the rape to police in Troy, but learned that her case was outside the statute of limitations. (At the time, New York had one of the country’s most restrictive laws for cases involving child sexual abuse.) The school conducted its own investigation that determined that 105 students had reported sexual abuse and harassment with no reported action by the school to notify police or parents. Sullivan later received a settlement from EWS.

Sullivan vowed to use the settlement money to fight for stronger laws to protect child victims. She joined survivor activists in protesting, lobbying and speaking out about child sex abuse. She marched across the Brooklyn Bridge wearing crime scene tape and chanting: “Protect Children, Not Predators!” Then, in 2018, on a flight from Florida to New York, she saw the film _Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri_. Five minutes into the film, she decided to use her settlement money to buy billboards to warn people about her perpetrator—and to put pressure on New York Assembly members to pass the Child Victims Act, which extends the statute of limitations for civil and criminal cases against perpetrators of child sex abuse and the institutions that cover up for them.

[]
( Lamar Advertising Company / Kat Sullivan )
The law, which recently passed, had been stalled in the New York Senate for years—blocked by Republicans, the Catholic Church and others who feared they would be held accountable for their abuse of children. Sullivan, a survivor herself, was determined to change the law and frustrated that legislators were not listening, so she decided to amplify her message.

Sullivan wanted to create a billboard with her perpetrator’s face and name alongside the word “rapist.” Two billboard companies said no. The third, Lamar, agreed, with some conditions: she could not name her rapist on the billboard, but she could refer to her website and post his name there after the billboards came down.

Sullivan purchased three billboards—one in Albany, near EWS; another in Stamford, Connecticut, near King School; and a third near South Hadley, Massachusetts, where Sargent was living at the time. “My constant fear has always been that people won’t know about him,” Sullivan told _Ms._ “I got as loud as I could get but I didn’t know how far that would reach. But I knew he was in South Hadley.”

The billboard in Massachusetts featured a man’s silhouette, listed Sullivan’s website’s URL and declared that “the truth will be revealed.” After his name was made public, Sargent reportedly resigned from the town historical commission, quit his job at Whole Foods and moved out of state.

[]
( Lamar Advertising Company / Kat Sullivan )
The billboards were digital, so Sullivan developed over 30 images that rotated over a month in order to sustain media coverage and keep interest high. “When will NY state value children over their abusers?” one asked. “NY Senate, Hold a Hearing,” another demanded. “Call A Vote. Child Victims Act 2018. Do The Right Thing.” Sullivan also pushed to require schools like Emma Willard to be mandated reporters. “Why aren’t private institutions,” one billboard asked, “mandated reporters in NY?”

Sullivan didn’t just want to warn people about Sargent—she wanted to raise awareness about child sex abuse, New York’s weak laws and the Child Victims Act. “I got a sharpie marker and wrote ‘stop sexual assault’ on my hand and put it in front of my face for a graphic,” she recalled, “and then hot pink. I wanted to do a lot of neon to catch people’s attention.”

After several senators refused to support a provision of the Child Victims Act that allowed survivors a one-year window to file charges no matter what their age, Sullivan put the senators’ names, photos and telephone numbers on billboards. “90% of NY Supports The Child Victims Act,” the massive signs declared. “WHY DON’T YOU?” Sullivan also targeted the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Timothy Dolan. After he said that the law would be toxic to the Catholic Church, Sullivan responded with the hashtag #RapeIsToxic.

“The response was overwhelmingly positive,” Sullivan told _Ms_. Her website had over a million views. Four hundred people reached out to her directly to share their stories of abuse. The NowThisNews report about her billboard campaign had over 800,000 more views. But conservatives in the New York Assembly continued to block the bill.

In the spring of 2018, when the legislative session ended without passing the Child Victims Act, Sullivan flew a banner over the capitol. “Stop Sexual Assault,” it demanded, followed by two hashtags—#NYPASSCVA and #EWSFAIL—and the handle for @TIMESUP. The plane also passed over Emma Willard School, where her class was celebrating its 20-year reunion.

Democrats took back control of the state Senate in 2018, and the New York Assembly finally passed the Child Victims Act. Governor Cuomo signed it into law in February—extending the time survivors have to file civil suits against perpetrators until they turn 55 years old, opening up a one-year “lookback window” allowing survivors to file civil actions against perpetrators no matter how long ago the abuse occurred and expanding the statute of limitation for criminal prosecutions until the survivor is 28. The Assembly also passed a law requiring private schools to report child abuse to law enforcement, the child’s parents and the Department of Education, although Sullivan notes that clergy are exempt from the reporting requirement.

While it’s too late for her own case, Sullivan is satisfied that other survivors will benefit from the new law. “What I hope that it did was to shed the shame,” she explained, and to make survivors realize that they are not the problem. “I’m hoping it is empowering for people.”

Sullivan will continue fighting to empower survivors regardless. She is now working on a flash mob play to be performed at Union Square Park this October “to create positive affirmations for survivors.”

question: What does the article say about the actions Sullivan took to help childhood abuse victims?

answer: Sullivan used the settlement money she got from Emma Willard School (EWS) and joined the survivor activists to protest, lobby, and speak out about child sex abuse. She was inspired by a movie to purchase billboards to warn people about her perpetrator. She wanted to pressure the New York Assembly members that are blocking the Child Victims Act (CVA), which extends the statute of limitations for cases against child sex abuse perpetrators. The billboards teased about the identity of her perpetrator (due to the requests of the billboard company that she avoids explicitly naming him on the billboard) and called out politicians responsible for blocking the CVA. After a session ended without passing the act, she flew a banner over the capitol, saying "Stop Sexual Assault", and the plane also passed over EWS.

question: What does the article say about what motivated Sullivan?

answer: She was an abuse victim at Emma Willard School, having been raped at the age of 17 by her soccer coach. When she wanted to report her case, she found out the case was out of the statute of limitations. The school's own investigation resulted in her receiving a settlement, which she vowed to use for stronger laws to protect child victims. Her motivation to buy billboards came from a movie, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. Having achieved her aim, she still wants to continue her activism.

question: What does the text say about the resistance to the child victims act?

answer: The act was stalled for years by the Republicans, the Catholic Church, and others. In 2018, several senators refused to support a provision that allowed child abuse victims to file a case no matter their age. Sullivan also targeted the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Timothy Dolan, after he said the law would be toxic to the Catholic Church. With the assumption of the New York Senate by the Democrats in 2018, the resistance subsided, and the law passed.

question: What does the article say about how to avoid rapists?


text:
_FULL TILT_ is a book by Irish author Dervla Murphy, about an overland cycling trip through Europe, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India.[1][2] It was first published by John Murray in 1965.[3] The book is usually given the subtitle _IRELAND TO INDIA WITH A BICYCLE_, but has been called _DUNKIRK TO DELHI BY BICYCLE_[4] and _FROM DUBLIN TO DELHI WITH A BICYCLE_.[5]

_Full Tilt_ has been described as both one of the best cycling books,[6][7] and one of the best travel books.[8][9]

Summary

In 1963 Murphy set off on her first long-distance bicycle tour, a self-supported trip from Ireland to India. Taking a pistol along with other equipment aboard her Armstrong Cadet men's bicycle (named _Rozinante_ in allusion to Don Quixote's steed, and always known as _Roz_), she passed through Europe during one of the worst winters in years. In Yugoslavia, Murphy began to write a journal instead of mailing letters. In Iran she used her gun to frighten off a group of thieves, and “used unprintable tactics” to escape from an attempted rapist at a police station. She received her worst injury of the journey on a bus in Afghanistan, when a rifle butt hit her and fractured three ribs; however, this only delayed her for a short while. She wrote appreciatively about the landscape and people of Afghanistan, calling herself “Afghanatical” and claiming that the Afghan “is a man after my own heart”. In Pakistan, she visited Swat (where she was a guest of the last wali, Miangul Aurangzeb) and the mountain area of Gilgit. The final leg of her trip took her through the Punjab region and over the border to India towards Delhi. Her journal was later published by John Murray in 1965. [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

Publication

-   1965: John Murray, 235pp.[17]

-   1967: Pan Books, 271pp.[18]

-   1983: Century (London), 235pp, .[19]

-   1985: Isis (Oxford), 305pp, .[20]

-   1991: Arrow Books, 235pp, .[21]

-   1995 (as _Full tilt: Dunkirk to Delhi by bicycle_): Flamingo (London), 244pp, .[22]

-   2004 (as _Full tilt: from Dublin to Delhi with a bicycle_): John Murray, 244pp, .[23]

-   2010: Eland Books, 235pp, .[24]

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title: Full Tilt: Ireland to India With a Bicycle

question: What does the article say about hardships Dervla endured?

answer: She made her trip during one of the worst winters in years. She had to frighten off a group of thieves and escape from an attempted rapist. A rifle butt also hit her in Afghanistan and fractured three ribs.

question: What does the article say about the motivation behind Murphy's trip?


text:
ALAN HAGMAN (January 11, 1964 – November 11, 2019) was an American photojournalist for the _Los Angeles Times_ from 1987 to his death. He covered many topics, including the Mexican Drug War.[1][2]

[1]

[2]

title: Alan Hagman

question: How long did Hagman work for the LA Times?

answer: 32 years

question: How old was Hagman when he died?

answer: 55 years old

question: Where did Hagman attend school?

answer: There is insufficient information to answer the question.

question: What topic did Hagman cover in addition to the Mexican Drug War?

answer: There is insufficient information to answer the question.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article introduces Alan Hagman. It lists his birth and death dates and his career.


text:
The 2019–20 UNC GREENSBORO WOMEN'S BASKETBALL TEAM represents the University of North Carolina at Greensboro during the 2019–20 NCAA Division I women's basketball season. The Spartans, led by 5th-year head coach Trina Patterson, play their home games at Fleming Gymnasium. They are members of the Southern Conference (SoCon)

Previous season

The Spartans finished the 2018-2019 season 11-19, 5-9 in conference play. They lost in the quarterfinals of the Southern Conference tournament to Chattanooga. Nadine Soliman was named to the All-Southern Conference first-team, and Te'ja Twitty was named to the All-Southern Conference second-team.

Roster

Schedule and results

|- !colspan=12 style=|Non-conference regular season |- !colspan=12 style=|SoCon regular season |- !colspan=9 style=| SoCon Tournament

Category:UNC Greensboro Spartans basketball

title: 2019–20 UNC Greensboro Spartans women's basketball team

question: Who is Trina Patterson?`

answer: UNC Greensboro women's basketball team's head coach

question: Where do The Spartans play their home games?

answer: At Fleming Gymnasium

question: Who did The Spartans lose to in the previous season?

answer: They lost to Chattanooga in the quarterfinals of the Southern Conference.

question: How many titles do The Spartans hold?

answer: This information is not found in the article.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The 2019–20 UNC Greensboro Spartans women's basketball team is led by their head coach, Trina Patterson, for the 5th year. The Spartans previously lost to Chattanooga in the 2018-19 Southern Conference quarterfinals.


text:
I had been in the United States Army Air Force for just over a year at that point but I had spent most of my time, hopping from one camp to another. I completed my training as a flight radio operator in January was assigned to the 579th Squadron and finally sent overseas. By St. Valentine's day I had found myself in eastern England at an RAF base called Wendling, where I joined the crew of Lt. Francis Doyle's B-24 Liberator, Dixie Belle.

On a cold and rainy afternoon, I found myself on a routine mission – my eleventh since arriving in England and being assigned to the crew of the Dixie Belle. Our squadron of B-24 Liberators took minor losses due to flak and ground fire over our target in Frankfurt, Germany. Not long after dropping our payloads and heading back to England, my formation was cut off from the rest of the squadron in the thick rain clouds.

It wasn't long before we came under heavy fire by Luftwaffe fighters that had sneaked up on us from below the clouds. One by one they swooped up through our formation, taking us completely by surprise. Carmen, at the head of our diamond formation, instantly lost it's starboard wing then veered out of control and collided with the bomber on our right flank. The bomber in the center of our formation lost both pilots and spiraled to the ground, while the one on our left flank was rocked by a small explosion and split in two.

Lt. Doyle was renowned for his ability to maneuver the massive B-24 like a stunt-plane. He was able to skillfully weave us in and out of the rain clouds, evading the fighters as the attempted to attack our belly.

We gave the Germans a pretty good fight for about twenty minutes. Not long after the last of our tail gunners was killed, the front gunners had all ran out of ammunition. Unable to defend ourselves, we lost the starboard engine and then partial use of our rudder. I was on my way through the bomb-bay to fetch a belt for the top turret's 50. caliber when the plane shook so violently that I had to brace myself in the narrow passage to keep from tumbling onto my face.

Facing the back of the plane, I watched as bright orange flames consumed the entire tail section. As another violent shutter shook the entire fuselage a large, blue hole appeared on the starboard side near the tail. As the wind tore away the entire panel of the fuselage and sucked everything out into the open sky, I held on as tightly as I could to keep myself from being sucked out as well. I turned around to the cockpit in time to see a string of bullets punch through the plexiglass windshield and strike the side of Lt. Doyle's head, causing it to explode like a firecracker inside of a pumpkin.

I wiped away the bits of Lt. Doyle's skull and brain matter from my flight-goggles. When I noticed that the co-pilot's head had also dropped, I realized that no one was flying the plane. I had to make a decision right then and there, to either check and see if any of the other crew were alive or bail out immediately with the assumption that anyone else would do the same. With all of my might I pushed up on the rusty emergency-release lever and as it gave way the bomb-bay doors fell open below me. I stood on the edge of the walkway, took a deep breath and fell forward.

I was certain someone had seen me fall.

I could see a dust cloud forming in the distance. I knew some sort of vehicle was on the dirt road as it grew larger and larger beneath my feet. I could just barely see the twilight peaking over the tree line as my parachute deployed and by the time I found my hiding place in the haystack, the sky was charcoal gray.

I don't know why I thought the Germans would give up on the search just because the sun had gone done. I tried to keep optimistic. There were noises here and there but I didn't dare peak my head out from beneath the several feet of hay that lay on top of me.

Then I grew bored and fell asleep. I don't know how on earth I was able to doze off in that damp, muddy haystack. I kick myself even now, twenty-three years later, whenever I think about it. It was not until the sun started to rise the next morning that they found me.
I don't know how many of them there were exactly. When they captured me, I was able to count nine in the circle at first glance, but there may have been more.

 The patrol leader was tall, statuesque and a picture-perfect Aryan with bright blonde hair and shiny blue eyes. He was kind to me after he realized that I was alone and unarmed and didn't speak a word of German. He even offered me a cigarette when he saw how my knees were shaking. These men didn't appear to be the monsters that I had been hearing horror stories about since before the war began.

     German patrols appeared to be very different from the ones I had been a part of during my basic training in Georgia. No one talked or joked or whistled or smoked a cigarette. The only sound I could hear behind me was the rhythmic thud of jackboots hitting the dirt road.

     Then the crack-pow of automatic gun-fire rang out. Without having to think, my training kicked in. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my belly with my face down in the dirt, back of my head for cover. My ears rang from the incessant popping of gunfire just behind me. It continued for several minutes, at full blast, before tapering off and stopping altogether.

I felt a sharp kick in my side. I rolled over on my back and I saw one of the strangest things I had ever seen: a gorgeous woman holding a smoking MP40 sub-machine gun.

 She was wearing decorative summer sandals and a white sun-dress with blue flowers printed all over it. She had thick eyelashes and her forest green eyes sat like two crown jewels framed on either side by her long dark hair. Her nose was large but it complimented her wide cheekbones nicely. Her perfect lips were curved into a mischievous smile, showing off her shiny red lipstick.

“Are you hurt?” My beautiful guardian angel asked in a small voice. I noticed a slight accent but I couldn't place my finger on it's exact origin. Otherwise, her English was quite impressive.

“I don't think so,” I said, propping myself up.

“Are you sure?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“Yep.” I looked down at my chest, then to my legs. No holes.

A short man with bushy eyebrows and matching mustache appeared on my other side and hovered there. He shouldered his old hunting rifle, maneuvering his head around the rusty bayonet that was lashed to it's barrel. He and the woman spoke back forth for a moment in a language I assumed to be Dutch.

Four other men, armed with sub-machine guns and dressed in similar civilian clothing, walked around among the dead Germans in the background. One of them was smoking a clay pipe and another two were talking to eachother and laughing. The other one was crouched beside the bullet-ridden corpse of the German squad leader, checking the dead man's pockets and belt-pouches for anything of interest.

“You lucky to be alive. On your feet.” the woman demanded, authoritatively putting her hand on her hip. “Do you know that any Allied combatant captured alone in occupied territories is to be shot immediately? I am not sure why they spared you. They probably suspected that you were a spy and were taking you to be interrogated by the Gestapo. By this time tomorrow you would have surely been put before an SS firing squad.”

“I don't even know how to thank you,” I said, then hopped up. I dusted off my flight-suit, removed my gloves and held out my trembling hand.

She looked at it warily and the man said something snide. She cut her eyes at him and giggled.

“There will be time for thanks later. You are still very much in danger.” she said and swung the machine gun onto her back. “What is your name?”

“What's your name?” I retorted and dropped my hand. I was glad to have been rescued but I was still stranded behind enemy lines. I was not sure if these were people I could trust with my name. For all I knew they were bandits, planning to hold me for ransom.

“Do not be rude!” she narrowed her eyes at me and spoke through her teeth. “This is not a committee. We have saved your life. At least show your gratitude by being cooperative, yes?”

I thought for a moment, trying to recall any relative information I had received during the many mission briefings I had sat through. I seemed to remember being told that if I could survive and avoid capture during the first twelve hours behind enemy lines, it was likely that one of the many resistance cells would probably make contact and help me hide from the Germans. After all, the resistance specialized in staying hidden from their German oppressors.

Even if these people weren't part of the resistance, they had managed to ambush and kill my captors. I recalled the old adage, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Lost and otherwise on my own, I decided that I really had no choice but to trust them.

“I'm Arthur Kemp.” I raised my chin and spoke confidently.

“Ah,” She clapped her hands together. “King Arthur! British?”

“Yes,” I nodded, thought for a moment, then quickly corrected myself. “I mean no.”

“What?” She shook her head and her hair fell from her shoulders like a peaceful waterfall. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, King Arthur was British.” I stated bluntly. I pointed to myself. “Arthur Kemp is an American.”

“Not from Canada? You sound to me like a Canadian. We have rescued Canadian pilots before.” She frowned, cocking her head to the side.

“No, I'm from Virginia.” I folded my arms over my chest. I took a deep breath and sighed. “I'm with the United States Army Air Force.”

She said something to the short man. He looked over his shoulder and whistled. The four others snapped to attention and came to form a semi-circle around me. The woman spoke to them quickly, probably explaining my situation. Then she seemed to entertain a few questions from the group before they all fell silent, their eyes stopping on me in a wondrous stares.

“Where the hell am I?” I asked at length.

“Not hell,” the woman giggled playfully. “Belgium.”

“Yes, I know that.” I said sarcastically and took a deep, meditative breath. “Where in Belgium am I?”

“You are near the village called Gembloux.”

“Great,” I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. “Doesn't help me at all. ”

“No? Okay.” She averted her eyes and thought for a moment. “Not far from the battlefield at Waterloo. You know Waterloo, yes?”

“Napoleon's last battle? That was near Brussels, right?”

“Yes, yes!” she answered emphatically. Her eyes became bright as she complimented my limited knowledge of the most famous event in Belgium's ancient yet boring history. “We are about fifty kilometers from the city of Bruxelles!”

I cursed under my breath. I reached into my flight-suit and pulled out a crushed pack of Camels. I struggled to pull a cigarette free, praying that they hadn't all been ruined. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make my hands stop shaking. Finally, I just pulled it out with my mouth. Then I patted my pockets, hoping to feel a book of matches.

“My name is Lysistrata.” the beautiful woman said, reaching into her dress and pulling a matchbook from her brassier. She struck one and held it up for me.

“Jesus,” I replied from the corner of my mouth, leaning forward and shielding the match with my hands. “That one's certainly a mouthful.”

“Yes, it comes from an ancient Greek comedy. It means 'she who disbands armies'.”

“No kiddin'? That's your real name?” I inquired like a fascinated suitor, blowing out a jet of thick white smoke.

“Of course not! But it is the name that I have chosen for myself. However, you may call me Liss.” she flashed her pearly white teeth. “That is what my friends call me.”

“So we're friends, huh?” I cut my eyes over to the blood-soaked corpses.

“You would know if we were not.” she looked over her shoulder. “There you see what becomes of those who have made enemies of us.”

“Then you folks are all with the Belgian Resistance Movement?”

“We are.” she nodded proudly.

“How did you know I needed your help?”

“We saw the explosion in the sky. Count yourself very fortunate. We saw that you abandoned your aircraft just in time.”

“Did you see anyone else bail out after me?”

“It is impossible that anyone else survived. I am sorry.”

I said nothing.

They each took a rifle and a few magazines from the dead Germans. I helped them drag the bodies into a cluster of tall bushes just off of the road then I followed the small band of resistance fighters into a nearby forest. With no trail and only a compass to guide us, we eventually came upon a large hidden cache where they stashed the weapons and ammo. Then we continued on and finally made it through the woods, arriving at the village of Gembloux around midday.

Liss and I said goodbye to the others and made our way through the village. We encountered several off-duty German soldiers as we walked along the narrow cobblestone streets. We shuffled quickly and kept our heads down.

She very quietly explained to me that she had long been in contact with an American spy, a young OSS agent who had been working with the resistance in Brussels for nearly a year. She warned me not to hold out much promise for getting back to England while the Germans occupied France.

Even so, she believed that the spy would be my only hope for making contact with the Allies and informing them of my survival. This didn't make me happy but I realized that it wouldn't be long before my parents would receive a telegram informing them that I was missing-in-action and presumed dead. If I was able make contact with the army then at least my parents would know that I was alive and could expect me home eventually.

...to be continued.

title: The Archangel's Lover (part 1 of 6)

question: Why is Arthur Kemp keen to make contact with the army ASAP?

answer: His plane has been shot from the sky over Belgium. He is likely the only survivor from the craft. Soon the army will send his parents notification that he is missing in action, presumed dead.

question: Why do the man and woman save Arthur Kemp from the Germans?

answer: The man and woman fight the war for the German Resistance. Their mission is to defeat the Germans through guerilla warfare. They saw Arthur bale out of the Allied Aircraft and they realize that if he falls into German hands he will be shot.

question: Why does Arthur Kemp jump from the plane?

answer: His plane comes under fire. The pilot and co-pilot are both killed so the plane is going to come down in a fiery accident. The plane itself is full of holes. Arthur has a parachute so his only option is to take his chances on the ground.