text:
NORTHWOOD is an area in the north-west of Greater London, England. It is located within the London Borough of Hillingdon and the historic county of Middlesex, on the border with Hertfordshire, and is from Charing Cross.

The area consists of the elevated settlement of Northwood and Northwood Hills, both of which are served by stations on the Metropolitan line of the London Underground. At the 2011 census, the population of Northwood was 10,949, down from 11,068 in 2008,[1] while the population of Northwood Hills was 11,578, up from 10,833 in 2001.[2]

Northwood adjoins Ruislip Woods National Nature Reserve, which contains Ruislip Lido. It was also used for location filming of the Goods' and Leadbetters' houses and surrounding streets in the BBC TV sitcom _The Good Life_ acting as Surbiton.[3]

History

Toponymy

Northwood was first recorded in 1435 as _Northwode_, formed from the Old English 'north' and 'wode', meaning 'the northern wood', in relation to Ruislip.[4]

Early developments

In 1086 at the Domesday Book the Northwood-embracing parish of Ruislip had immense woodland, sufficient to support one parish with 1,500 pigs per year, and a park for wild beasts (parcus ferarum).[5]

The hamlet of Northwood grew up along the north side of the Rickmansworth-Pinner road which passes across the north-east of the parish. Apart from this road and internal networks in areas of scattered settlement to the east and west, Ruislip had only three ancient roads of any importance of which Ducks Hill Road was the only one in the Northwood hamlet. This followed the course of the modern road from its junction with the Rickmansworth road in the northwest corner of the parish. It then ran south through Ruislip village as Bury Street and continued through the open fields as Down Barns Road (now West End Road) to West End in Northolt.[6]

Northwood had a manorial grange in 1248, which may have occupied the site of the later Northwood Grange. The monks of the Bec Abbey who lived at Manor Farm in Ruislip in the 11th century owned this grange.[7] A few cottages at Northwood are mentioned in the 1565 national survey. Two hundred years later the shape of the hamlet, composed of a few farms and dwellings scattered along the Rickmansworth road, had altered little except for the addition of Holy Trinity church.[8] Robert Cecil, 1st Earl of Salisbury had of Ruislip cleared of forest.[9]

Northwood, however, elevated and separated from the rest of the parish by a belt of woodland, took until the 19th century to form a village — in the manor of St. Catherine's were inclosed under the first Middlesex Inclosure Act in 1769 privatizing land which lay west of Ducks Hill Road, including West Wood (now _Mad Bess Wood_) which was common ground. A further of Ruislip parish were inclosed in 1804.[10] The character of the area in providing for Northwood and Ruislip Hills to have the majority of open spaces as opposed to housing land was begun by transfers of open space land to the public as early as 1899.{{#tag:ref|Nearly between Copse and Park woods and the Rickmansworth Road were leased by Kings College to the Northwood Golf Club in 1899. Gravel Pits, an area of adjoining the golf course to the north-west in the angle of Ducks Hill and Rickmansworth roads, was scheduled by the urban district council in 1905 for preservation as an open space. Between 1905 and 1953 the council acquired a further for open spaces, including the area laid down in 1929 as HASTE HILL GOLF COURSE (1927), King's College Fields between Park Avenue and the Pinn (1938), Poors Field between Copse Wood and Ruislip Lido (1939), and Breakspear Road (1949). Permanent preservation of the Manor Farm site and Park and Copse woods was assured by their transference to the Middlesex County Council and the urban district council in 1932 and 1936 respectively.[11]|group= n}} The open nature of the district attracted three hospitals to move or establish in this part of the parish: Mount Vernon Hospital, St. Vincent's Orthopaedic Hospital and Northwood, Pinner and District Hospital.{{#tag:ref|Or colloquially: Northwood and Pinner Hospital in Pinner Road, Northwood|group= n}}[12]

Urban development

[Late 20th-century houses in Northwood]

A land survey of Northwood conducted in 1565 by King's College, Cambridge, the new lords of the manor of Ruislip, recorded ten houses and several farms.[13]

By 1881, the population of Northwood had reached 257, with 62 houses recorded[14] from 41 people in 1841.[15] David Carnegie owned the large Eastbury Park Estate in the north of the area in 1881. In 1887, the Metropolitan Railway was extended from Harrow-on-the-Hill to Rickmansworth and Carnegie sold his land to Frank Carew{{#tag:ref|Frank Murray Maxwell Hallowell Carew|group= n}} for development for £59,422.[16] Northwood station opened in August that year.[17] Carew stipulated the prices for the new housing he had built, with the cottages along the west side of the High Street priced at £120. He had hoped these would be owned by the staff of the larger houses. The High Street itself had been a track leading on from Rickmansworth Road to Gate Hill Farm.[18] The first shops opened in 1895 on the east side of the road, and included a hairdresser, butchers and a fishmongers.[19] Carew sold the majority of the estate to George Wieland in 1892.[20]

By 1902, the population had reached 2,500 in 500 houses and running 36 shops.[21] In 1904, the Emmanuel Church opened in Northwood Hills, designed by Sir Frank Elgood, a local architect. It had been built in 1895, originally to serve as a school.[22] Elgood later served as chairman of the Ruislip-Northwood Urban District Council.[23]

[Northwood and Pinner Cottage Hospital, built in 1926] Northwood and Pinner Cottage Hospital was built in 1926 as a memorial to the First World War, using donations from the Ruislip Cottagers' Allotments Charity.[24]

Northwood is home to Northwood Headquarters, in the grounds of Eastbury Park, the estate purchased by David Carnegie in 1857. The Royal Air Force took over the site in 1939 for the use of RAF Coastal Command which made use of Eastbury house and also created a network of underground bunkers and operations blocks, at which time the house was used as the leading Officers' Mess, though was subsequently damaged by fire.[25] The RAF vacated the site in 1969, and it is now the location of the British Armed Forces Permanent Joint Headquarters (PJHQ) for planning and controlling overseas military operations, together with the NATO Maritime Command.[26]

A new community centre on the town's high street, replacing an older building, was officially opened by the local MP Nick Hurd in September 2012. The new building was named the Kate Fassnidge Community Centre after the Uxbridge landowner who donated some of her land to the borough, and replaced a derelict dining club that had originally been a Ritz cinema.[27]

1948 Air Disaster

On 4 July 1948 a Scandinavian Airlines Douglas DC-6 on a flight from Amsterdam to RAF Northolt collided with an RAF Avro York coming from Malta over Northwood. Both aircraft crashed, killing all 39 people on both aircraft.[28]

Geography

Northwood post town extends into two contiguous neighbourhoods in Hertfordshire named Eastbury and Moor Park. A triangular area of Northwood including the old High Street, Chester Road and Hallowell Road is a place of Local Architectural Special Interest, a restriction to protect the ornate Victorian houses made of high quality brickwork.[29] Dotted across the area are 22 listed buildings (for their architecture).[30]

Elevations range between 177 feet (54m) to 374 feet (114m) AOD, with many ridges and folds in the land creating an undulating terrain.[31]

Localities

Northwood Hills

[Early 21st-century houses in Northwood Hills] NORTHWOOD HILLS includes HASTE HILL and is separated by green buffers on almost all sides, though touches Eastbury Village to the south and had a population of 11,441 in 2008 according to the Office for National Statistics.[32]

The land on which Northwood Hills, Haste Hill Golf Club and most of Northwood now stand was once the Great Common Wood. This covered in the 16th century, which residents would use for grazing their livestock and collecting firewood. Robert Cecil, 1st Earl of Salisbury achieved inclosure from Parliament and sold of the wood in 1608 for £4000. The remaining woodland became Copse Wood, part of the Ruislip Woods, a national nature reserve.[33] [34]

Northwood Hills has intermixed in its area the only social housing estates beyond one street of the area;[35] much of its private housing stock was built during the 1930s by the Belton Estates company led by Harry Peachey[36] while Harry Neal was responsible for building the shopping parade in Joel Street. Its name was chosen in a competition by a woman from North Harrow as the land was split between Northwood, North Harrow and Ruislip parishes.[37] The first houses were built in Potter Street.[38]

[The Northwood Hills public house] The Northwood Hills public house (formerly known as the Northwood Hills Hotel) opposite the tube station is accredited as where Sir Elton John first performed professionally.[39] A picture of the pub appears on one of his album covers.[40]

Each May one of the largest Scout Jumble sales in the country is held by 1st Northwood on the land next to their headquarters, the Hogs Back.[41]

Northwood secondary school and Sixth Form is located in Potter Street (the former name of the school). The Olympic boxer Audley Harrison and Big Brother contestant Nikki Grahame are alumni of the school.[42]

Landmarks

Northwood Grange

Northwood Grange incorporates a 15th-century block with a crown-post roof, a cross-wing of the same date, and a long range of about 1600.[43][44] This is now the HALL SCHOOL, Northwood.

London School of Theology

The London School of Theology is an English interdenominational evangelical theological college.[45]

Northwood Hills tube station

This early 20th century built construction is a local landmark, built in neatly to the street façade of the high street.

Demography

According to the 2011 census, people of White British ethnicity made up 55% of the population. People of Indian ethnicity made up the second largest group at 19%.[46]

Transport

The area is served by Northwood, Northwood Hills[47] and Moor Park London Underground stations, on the Metropolitan line.

The area is also served by Transport for London contracted bus routes 282, 331 and H11, connecting the area to Ruislip, Harrow, Northolt, Denham, Greenford, Uxbridge and Ealing Hospital.

The area is also served by Arriva Shires & Essex route 8 connecting the area to South Oxhey, Watford, Leavesden and Abbots Langley.

Schools

See the List of schools in Hillingdon.

Culture and community

[Northwood town centre] A local residents' association and chamber of commerce joined forces in May 2010 calling for greater recognition of the area.[48] In May 2011, the London Borough of Hillingdon announced Northwood Hills would receive £400,000 in funding for regeneration work.[49]

Sport

The area is home to Northwood F.C. who play at Chestnut Avenue and play in the Isthmian League South Central Division as of the 2018/2019 season, Northwood Town Cricket Club also play at the same location in the Hertfordshire Cricket League. Northwood Cricket Club play at their Ducks Hill Road ground and are a club in the Saracens Hertfordshire Premier League.

Local government

Northwood was part of the ancient parish of Ruislip and became part of the Ruislip-Northwood Urban District in 1904.[50] The urban district was abolished in 1965 and merged with others to become part of the London Borough of Hillingdon in Greater London. Northwood has three elected local Councillors: Cllr Scott Seaman-Digby (first elected 1998), Cllr Richard Lewis (first elected 2002) and Cllr Carol Melvin (first elected 2008).[51]

The MP for the constituency of Ruislip, Northwood and Pinner is currently David Simmonds, who was elected in the December 2019 general election with 55.6% of the vote[52]. The current voting constituency was created from the former Ruislip-Northwood and parts of the Harrow West constituency, for the 6 May 2010 general election.

Notable people

-   Actress Kathleen Byron (1921–2009) lived in Northwood at the time of her death
-   Television and radio presenter Fearne Cotton was born in Northwood and attended Haydon School, Northwood Hills
-   Sir William Dickson (1898–1987), former head of the British armed forces, was born in Northwood
-   Artist Roger Hilton (1911–1975), post-war pioneer of abstract art, was born in Northwood
-   Film director Derek Jarman (1942–1994), whose credits include _Jubilee_ and _The Tempest_ (1979), was born in Northwood
-   George W. Jones, printer and type designer, buried at Holy Trinity Church
-   Actor Geoffrey Keen (1916–2005) lived in Northwood at the time of his death
-   Actress Betty Marsden (1919–1998) lived in Northwood at the time of her death
-   Actor David Quilter was born in Northwood
-   Actor Arnold Ridley (1896–1984), best known as Private Charles Godfrey in BBC sitcom _Dad's Army_, lived in Northwood[53]
-   Actress Patsy Smart (1918–1996) lived in Northwood at the time of her death
-   Character actor Geoffrey Toone (1910–2005) lived in Northwood at the time of his death
-   The singer Elena Tonra grew up in Northwood.[54]
-   Double agent George Blake (1922 - ) lived in Northwood after escaping from Nazi-occupied Netherlands.
-   Theatre director and co-artistic director of performance company Clod Ensemble Suzy Willson was born in Northwood.
-   Scientist Louis Harold Gray (1905–1965) worked at the Mount Vernon Hospital and died in Northwood in 1965.

[1]

[2]

[3] "All About The Good Life (broadcast on BBC2 9.00pm 28 December 2010)

[4] Mills, Anthony David (2001). _Dictionary of London Place Names_. Oxford University Press.

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13] Bowlt 2007, pp.59-60

[14]

[15]

[16] Bowlt 2007, p.65

[17]

[18] Bowlt 2007, p.69

[19] Bowlt 2007, p.70

[20]

[21]

[22] Bowlt 2007, p.61

[23]

[24] Bowlt 1994, p.46

[25] Bowlt 1994, p.62

[26]

[27]

[28]

[29]

[30]

[31]

[32]

[33]

[34] Bowlt 1994, p.23

[35]

[36]

[37]

[38]

[39]

[40] Bowlt, Eileen. M. (1994) _Ruislip Past_. London: Historical Publications

[41]

[42]

[43]

[44] Northwood Grange Grade II listing of architecture

[45]

[46]

[47]

[48]

[49]

[50]

[51] Carolynne Cotton, 1994

[52]

[53]

[54] [http://www.scotsman.com/what-s-on/music/british-band-daughter-on-matters-of-life-death-1-2818924) “Scotsman interview”] Aiden Smith, 'British band Daughter on matters of life & death', _Scotsman on Sunday_, 3 March 2013

title: Northwood, London

question: What was Northwood's involvement with the military?

answer: The Royal Air Force took over the use of Eastbury Park in 1939 for the use of RAF Coastal Command. The RAF also created a network of underground bunkers and operations blocks on the grounds. The RAF vacated the site in 1969. It currently holds the British Armed Forces Permanent Joint Headquarters for the planning and controlling overseas military operations, together with the NATO Maritime Command.

question: What are the landmarks located within Northwood?

answer: Notable landmarks in Northwood include Northwood Grange, the London School of Theology, and the Northwood Hills tube station.

question: What sports teams are associated with Northwood?

answer: Northwood is home to Northwood F.C., who play at Chestnut Avenue. The Northwood Town Cricket Club also play at the same location.

question: How is the local government set up in Northwood?

answer: Northwood was a part of the ancient parish of Ruislip and became part of the Ruislip-Northwood Urban District in 1904. The urban district was abolished in 1965 and merged with others to become part of the London Borough of Hillingdon in Greater London. Northwood has three elected local Councillors.


split: test

text:
DR OSMAN AHMED is a Kurdish-British artist from Iraq who has been exhibited in galleries across Europe and the Middle East, including the Tate Britain and the Imperial War Museum. He has been described as “one of Kurdistan’s best-known artists” by The Economist.

Life

Ahmed was born in 1962 and grew up in the neighbourhood of Chwar Bakh in Sulaymaniyah, Iraqi Kurdistan. Like many Kurds, he refused to participate in the Iran-Iraq War and fled into the mountains to join the . Ahmed joined the PUK but told the military leaders that he could not kill anybody and had never held a gun. Ahmed told Medya Magazine, “It wasn’t easy at first, some of the other Peshmergas were unable to understand why I did not want to hold a gun but many of the officials appreciated and respected the art I had made previously, from this they gave me a lot of freedom to express myself through art whilst in the mountains.”[1]

Ahmed crossed with the Peshmerga into Iran, where he saw for the first time Western art on display at the Shah's old palace and the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art. He was then arrested and ordered to draw propaganda art for the Iranian regime, but pretended to be mad to cover his refusal. He was then able to cross into Turkey from Iran with a false passport, but was arrested again and spent time in two Turkish prison camps. He crossed back into Iraqi Kurdistan and witnessed the beginning of the Anfal genocide, being temporarily blinded after being exposed to nerve gas dropped from a helicopter. Back in Iran, he was given the opportunity to organise an art exhibition about Saddam Hussein's campaign against the Kurds, which eventually allowed him to travel outside of Iran with the help of PUK leader Jalal Talabani. Ahmed went to study first in Russia and then in London, where he also worked as a bus driver, waiter and market seller.[2]

Ahmed told Arab Weekly that "Most of my drawings come from memory and my experience as a witness to the years of political and cultural repression, culminating in the horrendous event in 1988 (the Anfal) that left a profound effect on my life”.[3]

Exhibitions

In 2008, Ahmed was exhibited as part of the Displaced exhibition at the Imperial War Museum in London.[4] In 2014, Ahmed featured in an exhibition to raise awareness and funds for the Kurds of Syria who were fighting against ISIS.[5]

In 2017, one of Ahmed's works was installed on a wall in Reaya hill, Sulaymaniyah, Iraqi Kurdistan.[6] In 2017 Ahmed also received the IAGS Prize for the Arts from the International Association of Genocide Scholars, University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia.[7]

Ahmed was exhibited as part of Kurdish arts charity Gulan's 'Road through Kurdistan' exhibition at the P21 Gallery in London's Euston in October 2019.[8][9]

Ahmed is a researcher at the Kurdology Centre for Kurdish Studies, University of Sulaymaniyah.[10] He is a graduate of the Institute of Art in Sulaymaniyah-Iraq (1985), and received an MA in Drawing from Camberwell College of Arts, London (2007).[11] He also documented the Al-Anfal genocide of Saddam Hussein against Kurdish civilians in line drawings as part of a PhD undertaken in London in 2013.[12]

[1]

[2]

[3]  Karen Dabrowska|website=AW|language=en|access-date=2020-02-27}}

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

title: Osman Ahmed (artist)

question: Discuss Ahmed's art exhibitions from 2008-2019.

answer: Dr. Osman Ahmed's artwork was part of the displaced exhibition at the Imperial War Museum in London in 2008. Then in 2014, he featured in an exhibition to raise awareness and funds for the Kurds of Syria fighting against ISIS. Three years later, one of his works was installed on a wall in Reaya hill, Sulaymaniyah, Iraqi Kurdistan. That same year, he received the IAGS Prize for the Arts from the International Association of Genocide Scholars, University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia. In October 2019, Ahmed was exhibited as part of Kurdish arts charity Gulan's 'Road through Kurdistan' exhibition at the P21 Gallery in London's Euston.

question: What does the text say about Dr. Ahmed's education?

answer: Dr. Ahmed studied first in Russia. Then, in 1985, he graduated from the Institute of Art in Sulaymaniyah, Iraq. In 2007, he earned a Master of Arts in Drawing from London's Camberwell College of Arts. Ahmed researched Saddam Hussein's Al-Anfal genocide against Kurdish civilians in London in 2013 as part of a Ph.D. He is currently working as a researcher at the Kurdology Centre for Kurdish Studies at the University of Sulaymaniyah.

question: What incident sparked Ahmed's interest in art?

answer: Ahmed traveled into Iran with the Peshmerga and witnessed Western art for the first time at the Shah's ancient palace and the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art. Subsequently, he was jailed and forced to sketch propaganda art for the Iranian authorities, but he feigned insanity to avoid it. Ahmed later crossed into Turkey from Iran with a fake passport but was apprehended again and sent to two Turkish prison camps. He returned to Iraqi Kurdistan and witnessed the beginning of the Anfal slaughter, being temporarily blinded by nerve gas dropped from a helicopter. With the support of PUK chairman Jalal Talabani, Ahmed organized an art exhibition on Saddam Hussein's assault against Kurds. Ahmed studied first in Russia, then in London, where he worked as a bus driver, waiter, and market seller. After the horrific Anfal in 1988, Ahmed said he drew most of his works from memory and his experience as a witness to years of political and cultural suppression.


text:
1) Rodgers's grumblings were justified

It is unusual to hear a manager criticising the manner of a 3-1 win and even more striking when the manager in question is Brendan Rodgers, a man not averse to accentuating the positives at Liverpool. He was justified in his complaints after Saturday's defeat of Crystal Palace, however. No team reflects the openness of this Premier League season better than Liverpool, who sat top of the table on Saturday night but have yet to produce a commanding 90-minute display in this campaign. Rodgers lamented the "lack of control" behind the otherwise impressive front two of Luis Suárez and Daniel Sturridge and Palace had enough opportunities to disturb Liverpool's incisive first-half display. It was encouraging to hear the manager at the Premier League summit demanding improvement, although Anfield would happily listen to that criticism every week if the table remained the same. "We'll get better in the second half of the season," said Rodgers. "But it was critical that we made a good start. I believe that we have still got a lot of improvement to make which is good, especially if we continue with this mentality of winning games. We've won five out of seven but there is still a lot of improvement to do." ANDY HUNTER

2) Will Moyes stick with Januzaj?

David Moyes claimed he would have started Adnan Januzaj three or four weeks ago, but for injuries elsewhere which scuppered his plan. It will now prove a source of intrigue whether or not the United manager continually picks the 18-year-old, both at home and in Europe, or reverts back to the experienced performers who had struggled earlier in the season. EWAN MURRAY

3) All hail Allardici

Sam Allardyce once speculated that he might be taken more seriously as a tactician and, therefore, considered for the very top jobs, if he had a European-sounding surname. At White Hart Lane on Sunday, the West Ham United manager contented himself with aping Spain's 4-6-0 formation, which had triumphed at Euro 2012, to enjoy a memorable 3-0 win. He positively basked in the post-match acclaim. 'No, no, don't call me a managerial genius (but you can if you want)', was the subtext to a line from his press conference. André Villas-Boas hated it. The Tottenham Hotspur manager gave Allardyce and West Ham absolutely no credit. He said that their goals had come from a set-piece, a fluke and a one-man break against two of his defenders. Allardyce's tactics had emphatically not thrown him. "It's nothing to do with the strategy but you can write whatever you want," Villas-Boas huffed. Having been outwitted in the second-half by Chelsea's José Mourinho the previous weekend, this was a low point. Allardyce is riding high. DAVID HYTNER

4) Pellegrini finds the 'release pressure' valve

There was a first at the Etihad Stadium on Saturday during Manchester City's 3-1 win over Everton: the sight of a Manuel Pellegrini discarding his billing as the calm patrician of the technical area to become, well, a touch animated. This collector's item came in two parts. The opening stanza featured the Chilean exchanging some involved words with James Milner after Romelu Lukaka's opener for Everton that may or may not have been a telling-off for the midfielder. Then, in the second half, when Aleksandar Kolarov had to depart due to a facial injury, Pellegrini, to use the parlance, "lay into" both the left-back's proposed replacement, Gaël Clichy, and Brian Kidd, his assistant, after the Frenchman had sat back down after warming up. Coming soon to a Premier League dugout near you: a water-bottle kicking, fourth-official berating, opposition manager-baiting Pellegrini … JAMIE JACKSON

5) Mackay knows better than to take on Cardiff's owner

The Cardiff players said before Saturday's defeat to Newcastle that they were thinking of asking the manager, Malky Mackay, to ban the club's owner, Vincent Tan, from the dressing room after a row over bonuses. The dispute has been resolved but ill feeling lingers and Tan did not make his usual appearance in the changing room after the final whistle. So was he barred from doing so? Hardly. The mega-rich Malaysian owns the club, and to ban him from any part of it would be akin to barring him from his own front room. Tan did not make his millions from being compliant, he is a tough task master and Mackay, who is nobody's fool, is not about to take him on. JOE LOVEJOY

6) Mourinho has bench-warming game-changers at his disposal

While Chris Hughton, perhaps rather harshly, starts fretting again over his position at Carrow Road with a trip to Arsenal to come after the international break, Chelsea can warm to their newfound squad depth. Much is justifiably made of their lack of goals up front, with the three senior strikers on the Londoners' books having yet to register in the league while Romelu Lukaku already boasts four on loan at Everton. Yet José Mourinho still benefits from game-changers on his bench. He could fling on Eden Hazard and Willian against Norwich, with the two-time European Cup winner Samuel Eto'o also making a contribution as the visitors shape-shifted boldly in a bid to conjure a winner. Last year the management might have been looking to Yossi Benayoun or Marko Marin to inspire such a victory having been pegged back. Mourinho will need more than one transfer window before he is content with the balance of his squad, but others would be envious of the options already at his disposal. The strikers may not be scoring, but the collective boasts personnel who can inspire revivals. DOMINIC FIFIELD

7) Pochettino's quick thinking swung the game

Swansea will play worse and win. After Southampton took the lead through Adam Lallana after 19 minutes, Swansea dominated for long enough for the edginess in the crowd to become very apparent and it was only the excellence of Artur Boruc and some wasteful finishing that prevented them from equalising before half-time. At the start of the second half, Swansea's control only became more pronounced and a goal felt inevitable. Mauricio Pochettino had started the game with his side set up in a 4-4-2 formation, Rickie Lambert and Daniel Osvaldo partnering each other in attack, but now Southampton were getting overwhelmed in midfield. Pochettino, however, did not sit there hoping for the best. Instead he reacted. He removed Southampton's biggest name, Osvaldo, and brought on a teenager, James Ward-Prowse, to bolster his side's midfield in the 58th minute and Swansea soon ran out of ideas. Another goal did indeed arrive - but not for Swansea. Pochettino is becoming increasingly impressive. JACOB STEINBERG

8) Is Wenger wrong to doubt Wilshere's scoring credentials?

"I don't think he will ever be a goalscorer," Arsène Wenger said when a journalist in the Hawthorns pressroom pointed out that Jack Wilshere had recently described his own goals record as "embarrassing." Yet in the next sentence, Wenger also pointed out a lot of people had previously thought the same about another of the players in the Arsenal dressing room. "Let's not forget we had the same problem with [Aaron] Ramsey a while ago. Once they start to score it comes naturally." Wilshere, he added, is "a player who can provide chances for others ... in our job, it's quite simple, you need players who score and players who give the balls to those who score. He's more in the second category but of course from that category you want a few goals as well, so it's good that he knows he can do it." Wilshere's equaliser in the 1-1 draw at West Brom was his first goal in the Premier League since a 4-2 win at Aston Villa in November 2010 (though, in mitigation, a lot of that time has been spent missing through injury). In total, he has two in 82 appearances. All the same, it was strange for Wenger to say, as his first reaction, there would never be a time when Wilshere scored with regularity. Of course, Wilshere will always be a creator but he strikes the ball so accurately, and is such an elusive opponent, is it expecting too much to think if he stays injury-free that eight to ten goals a season should be beyond him? DANIEL TAYLOR

9) Stoke may need to embrace a familiar plan B

Rightly or wrongly, Tony Pulis has taken a battering of late – last week Kenwyne Jones called Stoke's style under the Welshman "more or less kick-and-hope. I think team-mates could testify it was very hard to come by chances." And yet, under a new manager and ethos, converting these chances has been sorely lacking of late – Stoke are the Premier League's lowest scorers. In their 1-0 loss to Fulham, Stoke dominated possession for long periods and were unlucky not to be given a penalty but failed to fashion clear-cut chances and still looked most dangerous from set-pieces; Robert Huth header from a corner being his his team's only effort on target. Mark Hughes should be admired for trying to establish his own legacy, but in games where Stoke lack incision, as they did on Saturday, he might have to accept that with the attributes of his current squad, Jones et al, 'kick-and-hope' remains an ugly but effective plan B. MICHAEL BUTLER

10) Where to start at Hull?

The former Real Madrid director general Jorge Valdano once compared games between Liverpool and Chelsea to "shit on a stick", but relative to Hull and Villa, both "shit" and "stick" become comparatively fascinating and metaphorically redemptive. Accordingly, not even The Guardian has the brass neck to manufacture a talking point out of a match so soul-curdlingly sordid – but for the fact that it just has. DANIEL HARRIS

question: What does the text say about basketball?

question: What does the text say about Brendan Rodgers?

answer: Brendan Rodgers is the manager of Liverpool Football. He is criticizing the manner of the club's 3-1 win over Crystal Palace. Rodgers is known for accentuating the positives at Liverpool, so his grumblings came as a surprise to many. He was justified in his complaints after Saturday's game, as no other team reflects the openness of the Premier League season better than Liverpool. They may have won the game, but the club has yet to produce a commanding 90-minute display of football. Rodgers complained about the lack of control behind the front duo of Luis Suárez and Daniel Sturridge. Liverpool's manager is demanding improvement for the second half of the season, which is refreshing.

question: What does the text say about Sam Allardyce?

answer: Sam Allardyce is West Ham United's manager. He once speculated that he might be taken more seriously as a tactician and be considered for the top jobs if he had a European-sounding surname. Allardyce used Spain's 4-6-0 formation (which won at Euro 2012) to enjoy a memorable 3-0 win against Tottenham Hotspur and basked in the glory, which didn't sit well with Hotspur's manager André Villas-Boas. Allardyce got no credit from Boas, who called West Ham's goals a fluke and not because of Allardyce's tactics. Despite the negativity, Allardyce is riding high.

question: What does the text say about José Mourinho?

answer: José Mourinho is Chelsea's manager. He has bench-warming game-changers at his disposal as the club enjoys their newfound squad depth. Mourinho's club has been criticized for their lack of goals upfront, due to three senior strikers on the Londoners' books having yet to register in the league. However, Mourinho still benefits from players such as Eden Hazard, Willian, and two-time European Cup winner Samuel Eto'o's contributions off the bench - a collective of personnel who can inspire victory. Mourinho still needs more than one transfer to balance out his squad, but the options already available to him leave other managers envious.


text:
  ------- -------- ------ ----- ----------
  DOSE:   3.0 mg   oral   DOC   (LIQUID)
  ------- -------- ------ ----- ----------

General data: 20 year old male, previous experience with LSD, various tryptamines and PEA's, dissociatives. No previous experience with DOC.

It was on a sunny day which couldn't decide whether it wanted to be warm or cold, that I decided to try DOC for the first time. I was hanging around, shooting the shit with my friends Andra and Mihai in A's apartment in the city, where we had arrived from our camping spot on the beach, and Andra and I took out the DOC. We both measured ourselves 2.5 mg with a syringe from a vodka solution of 1mg / ml and then I decided for another 0.5mg to really get the feel of this compound. After half an hour or so I was beginning to feel the amphetamine buzz and noticed that I had better coordination. Mihai was to be our sober trip sitter and chauffeur (he had just come down from a DOC trip the day before).

T+30: We went out and headed into the city just as the DOC was beginning to make itself known. We drove down to a small harbor for yachts and fishing boats, hanging from the end of the peninsula on which the old town was built. Tourists and people from the city were walking on the promenade, among restaurants and cafes, with the beach line stretching out to the horizon across the harbor, with the city standing on the cliff above it. The evening light had taken a slightly surreal quality, brighter than usual, and reality was already slightly vibrating with the buzz of the DOC.

T+1:We climbed over the 12-foot concrete wall that protected the promenade from the sea and then down onto the 10-foot concrete Tetris blocks stacked chaotically on top of each other to break the waves. We rolled up a spliff as we were joined by some friends and smoked it there, watching the people walking on the promenade. By this time we were on a fucked-up stimulated high where we were laughing like Beavis and Butt-head and mocking everything in sight. A guy was walking on the promenade like a gander, with a sober and superior pose, his chest puffed out and his hands behind his back, his wife and kid following behind like a goose and chick.

I was already feeling the cold that plagues almost all my psychedelic trips. There was no nausea (I do not eat for at least 4 hrs before taking any psychedelic substance, and I've only felt nausea from 2C-T-7) The come-up was gentle and gradual, unlike higher doses of some PEA's, and I didn't have the sexual stimulation common with the latter.

T+2: I made some half-joking half-insulting comments to a guy I didn't know and then we headed out to the park uptown (we figured it would be nice to play in the kids' amusement park). The trip was taking hold and slowly distorting reality, exaggerating my thoughts. The trip was rather psychological than emotional, I was in a pretty stable light cheerful vibe, but my thoughts were wandering in all directions. I became overly conscious of our look. We were coming from the beach where we had camped and we didn�t have the cleanest or best-looking outfits, standing out among the well-dressed people walking in the park. Unfortunately the kids'park was closing so we headed to some Roman ruins to hang out. As the night fell, we crossed an old and run-down part of the peninsula and descended to an isolated dark little park with old stone relics scattered throughout. I looked through the windows of the old Roman building turned into a museum and I tripped a motion detector that lit up a floodlight.

By this time I was pretty fucked up and couldn't decide whether it was a motion detector or someone had noticed us and decided to play with us. I was beginning to fall into my standard dissociative bad trip concerning the fractal universe and the endless futility of life, which lasted throughout the trip and which I won't detail here. We climbed onto the museum terrace to see the sight and the night watchman started yelling at us. We debated whether to give him some money for him to buy himself a pack of cigarettes and leave us alone, or just walk away. We did the latter, and Mihai, who was sober, suggested we should go eat something.

T+5: We went back to the promenade and to a seafood restaurant. I was very apprehensive as usual about being too conspicuous in my tripped-out state, but I quickly became assured that everyone in the restaurant was minding his own trip, not giving a shit about the people at other tables. We only paused our manic giggling when the waitresses came to our table, but even they avoided looking into our huge pupils. We ordered a plate of breaded frog legs and some French fries. Mihai was digging into them like a sober person would, as I was wrestling futilely with a single pair of legs. It was taking me a quarter of an hour just to finish one and I was conscious of the uselessness of my effort. I tried to tear strips of flesh off the bones, but sincere pity was preventing me from pulling too hard, and once I had a piece of meat in my hand I didn't quite know what to do with it. Andra had taken off the bread trousers off a poor frog's legs and she was hanging them in the air in a literal rendition of Naked Lunch. Suddenly the frog wasn't looking so tough anymore, but skinny and lame. She ate the meat off the bones and then dutifully put the trousers back on. Mihai made some makeshift arms from a pair of bones and we started dancing on the plate with the reconstructed skeletons. (Mihai's had a really good groove).

T+6: We left the restaurant and headed back to our tent on the beach about an hour's drive away from the city. By this time I was really tripping, my mind was reeling, my eyes were bouncing every which way and time was really dilated. I tended to be pretty stressed out and overestimate the speed of the car and the danger of driving. Mihai was tripping me out by turning the car lights off for a few seconds at a time, leaving us driving at 50mph on the empty roads in pitch darkness and me bracing myself white-knuckled. Andra and I continued our flight of ideas, hotly debating philosophical, surreal and random ideas, all while concomitantly making fun of each other and our ideas and laughing maniacally.

T+7: We reached the deserted beach and that's when I noticed the visuals for the first time. There was nobody on a 3-mile radius, and the beach was stretching around us to the horizon. The scenery around us looked primordial, with the amorphous black sea crashing against the land in a regular, but never identical pattern, like it had done for aeons, the sharp and penetrating wind was chilling our bodies and our souls, and a barren land was stretching out from the sea, with puny and withered grassy plants trying to survive. It was a place where life was struggling against the hostile elements. When I looked up to the sky, it was like a giant chandelier of light blue dots, held together by unseen strings against the black velvet of space. Stars were continually appearing, moving and dying out, and blue and red lights of airplanes were slowly floating across.

We decided to make a fire and Mihai turned on his head-mounted flashlight. Suddenly the world became dark and only his beam of light cut a swath of reality in the amorphous darkness around. I felt like we were explorers on a barren planet and I started joking about being wary of alien eggs. Mihai, who was sober, and Andra, who had taken 2.5 mg, were gathering sticks, but I wasn't quite up to it. I knew what I had to do, but when I had to do it, my hundreds of thoughts were wandering off. We made a small fire that was more of an illusion of warmth then we tried to huddle in what cover we had and get warm enough to sleep. Andra showed me some little animals that were hopping around on the beach and I became paranoid about her trying to trip me out about some nonexistent animals. Were they real? Were they just the shadows cast by waves? (the next day we did see foxes and rabbits in the area).

As I desperately tried to escape the coldness that was passing right through my body into my soul, I became an animal. I read a trip report from a guy that felt a reptilian consciousness in his DOC trip. I would venture to guess that the guy lives in a desert environment. I went into a bear trip, I was a bear trying to hibernate through the cold and barren winter, knowing that the only way to survive through was to cut off from the outside world and fall into torpor, slow his life so that his life warmth is conserved, but maintain a trickle of energy flowing so that it would not stop forever.

In the piercing cold of the wind and sea, I shed all notions of safety and comfort that civilization had made me take for granted. I saw life as animals and the first humans saw it, a constant struggle where death is always here, real, a coldness threatening to envelop you, the coldness of the wind, the coldness of hunger seeping away the energy from your muscles, the coldness of the gaze of a predator enveloping you and coming to nullify you and absorb you into itself. And the hope of life, the neverending struggle to find some warmth to push death away for a minute, some food to pump some energy through your veins and through your mind, to find a sheltered spot to escape the impersonal and hostile wind, some safety to allow you to plan for a tomorrow and to hope for some good times, times when the sun is shining through your body and soul, when your stomach is full and you can hope for a new life, when the fear of death subsides and in its place the lust of life starts shining like a bright bulb, looking for another brightness to unite with it and give birth to a new life. Good times that end as they came, leaving behind a fading memory of light and violently pushing you back into the struggle, running from the coldness that encroaches into your soul and always towards the light.

My imagination and planning capacity were shut down and I was trying to learn like an animal would, by trial and error. I was utterly incapable of pulling the zipper of my sleeping bag, so I was trying to pull the material around me to shield me against the outside world. I had no idea what to do, I acted randomly and then tried to remember those actions that made me warm and repeat them, and remember those actions that made me cold, and avoid them. I was trying to curl into a ball and make a shell around me, but the bag was constantly falling and I had to permanently pull it back on, in a part-sleeping part-awake state, like a bear awakening from his slumber and shifting his position. I remembered a story about a bear I had read when I was a kid, a bear who went to sleep in the Russian taiga one autumn and as he slumbered, humans came and built a power plant on his home. And the bear awoke one spring morning, went out his burrow, opened a door and found himself under the flickering sterile neon light of a corridor in the plant.

I finally managed to sleep (it was about T+9) and I awakened in the morning (T+15). I lay on the sand looking at the sky, waiting for the others to wake up. It was a mellow, calm, sunny vibe, like the amphetamine buzz had left only a faint echo. I looked at the sun through almost-closed eyelids, shaping and molding flares and refraction patterns through my eyes, splitting the sunbeams into rivers and spreading them across spheres, taking apart the white light into its separate colors and across the fields of dots and circles on the surface of my eye. It was a calm day of returning to reality, and somewhere at about T+20 I was back to baseline, with only the standard PEA blankness remaining together with a trace of amphetamine stimulation. I felt removed from the comforts of civilization and imagined what would become of us if it were to suddenly disappear: our clothes would slowly tear away, hanging on us like rags and then being shed and replaced with animal skins, our bodies would become thin, scrawny and tough, like a skeleton pulled by steel cables, and the memory of culture, of science, of the dreams and creations of mankind would slowly turn from reality to a distant legend to tell our children around the fire.

This was a very inhuman, scary trip, the sort of which I haven't had with other PEA's. It was a pretty traumatic experience that I am still integrating. It reminded me of the fragility of our affluence and of the brutal struggle for survival we escaped a short time ago on an evolutionary timeframe and in which we could again fall. I would characterize DOC as having the same potential for cosmic, inhuman abstraction as 2C-E, but even more impersonal and emotionally dissociated, together with a strong and silent, implacable amphetamine push. For me it wasn't warm and emotional like 2C-T-7 or crystal clear like LSD, it was removed and impersonal. It was also one of the longest days of my life, that went on and on and never seemed to stop. This seems like a substance I would like to DO something on, not have a meditative trip. At the time it seemed like an epoch rather than a day. Andra, who has taken it three times, reports 2-2.5mg as the threshold between stimulation and drifting off into psychedelia. I plan to repeat it, but under completely different circumstances. Probably in the mountains, and on a warm day.

Exp Year: 2007
ExpID: 62182
Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Apr 16, 2007
Views: 22,101
[ View as PDF (for printing) ] [ View as LaTeX (for geeks) ] [ Switch Colors ]
DOC (357) : General (1), Bad Trips (6), Various (28)

COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.

question: What is being documented in this passage?

answer: The narrator is documenting their use of a psychedelic drug named DOC. The passage is portioned off into sections based on how long after the drug was ingested. The narrator and a few others are participating in the use of the drug. The group is partaking in several activities in public, including going to a park and a restaurant.

question: Why does the narrator describe the experience as traumatic?

answer: The narrator states that using DOC caused cosmic and inhuman abstraction, as well as impersonal and emotional disassociation. The narrator also states that while on the substance, the day seemed to last an extremely long time.


text:
My name is Chad Sedwick. I'm a journalist (amateur), in a small town in Kansas. I am also a vampire, and before anything, I would like to say, I think this is the shittiest thing that could possibly happen to anyone ever. Modern movies make us out to be so cool; immortal, super-powered, sex-god creatures of the night. These works forget to mention that when a human is turned, their eyesight IMMEDIATELY declines. I'm not talking like a little fuzziness, I'm talking like "holy fuck, I can't see dick" blind. You can see (pun intended) how this might be an issue. It's really fucking difficult to go about your business in rural Kansas, at night, when you can't see ten goddam feet in front of you. One minute you're stalking what you think is a large, juicy, good ol' boy, the next you've got yourself fang deep in a tractor while some troglodyte pumps you full of buckshot. So, after about 15 years of not seeing shit, and doing A LOT of meth (hey, I can't possibly OD) I decided to see if I could make it somewhere in the state that had an optometrist.

This I accomplished through some pretty fucking handy use of mesmerization on the local truckers in order to a secure a nice, nocturnal ride. Several bloody, yet hilarious, misadventures later I found myself breathing heavily (not that I have to breathe, it was for effect) over the slumbering form of one Dr. Pinkerton. He was to be my first progeny, and the one who would fix my fucking eyes. To my great misfortune, at the very moment I opened my mouth to sink my teeth into his neck, Mrs. Pinkerton, sleeping next to the good doctor, perpetrated an instance of flatulence so foul it woke her husband, who seeing me, yelled. I sloppily bit at him, like a king cobra might bite at its prey after drinking a fifth of tequila. In the middle of the bloody chaos, Mrs. Pinkerton awoke, screaming her grey-haired head off. With one surprisingly effective swiped, I took her jaw off, which didn't kill her immediately, but did get her to pass out in shock. With that obstacle out of the way, I drained the doctor properly, and waited for him to turn. It turns out, this is not how you turn a person. It just basically kills them. I mean, there's not like a fucking guidebook for this kind of thing, or I'd have known about the eyes thing. Of course, now I'm all bloody, in this goddam slaughterhouse, and I still can't see for shit. I judiciously decide to flee.

With a phonebook. Flash-forward again, and there I am, this time looming (as vampires are wont to do) over my /new/ victim; Dr. Werther. I had found him in the good ol' yellow pages, and after a quick Google search (God bless the internet, how else is one supposed to figure out vampirism?) I was sure that by feeding him some of my blood, an /then/ killing him, I could create a perfectly good vampire optometrist. I mean, pretty sure. Feeling incredibly confident in my immortal powers of patience, I waited for the poor bastard to open his mouth to snore. This in itself was an incredibly mind-numbing exercise, and for most of the wait I played BrickBreaker on my Blackberry (the phone didn't actually function, I stole it a long time ago, had never paid for a plan, and in fact only kept it around to play BrickBreaker).

Finally, (the thankfully spouseless) Mr. Werther opened his mouth, and I, with all the unfeeling, lifeless cunning of a vampire, whipped out my pocket knife, and sliced open my hand to produce the blood for him to consume. It fucking hurt, like a motherfucker. I had to bite myself to keep from screaming. but after a lot of thought-cursing, I managed to turn my attention back to the task at hand; dripping my blood into this bastard's mouth. Predictably, he awoke shortly after the thick liquid hit the back of his throat, and I had to clamp his mouth and nose shut with my hands to make him swallow. We struggled like this for several long and bloody moments until I surmised that he had swallowed enough of my blood and I set to draining what was left of his own. Nobody tells you how gross this part is either, you have to swallow a shit-ton of that stuff, and it gets all over you. You can't really do laundry as a vampire, there's just too much blood. I took to stealing clothes from 24 hour laundromats. Anyway, it was nearly morning before the good doctor awoke (scaring the shit out of me in the process) and began to ask, or shriek, the same questions that I did when I was made. Being too lazy to explain the actual facts, I put on my best Transylvanian accent, and explained that I was Count Dracula, and that I would only return him to normal after he fixed my eyes.

This was surprisingly effective, and after an incredibly difficult, eyesight-hindered ride to Werther's office, I realized the most fucked fact of all: turning Dr. Werther had made his eyesight shitty too. His driving was goddam horrible, swerving all over and shit. There was no way I was going to let this asshole anywhere near my eyes. So I was stuck with this useless middle aged baby vampire, both of us blind, the sun coming up, in a town I didn't know. God, being a vampire is shitty.

Dr. Werther wasn't even good company, he kept bitching about being undead and all, and I had already committed to the stupid accent, so talking to him was awkward and distracting. So, as the sun's rays lit up the Kansas sky, I shoved him outside. I'd like to quickly note that when a vampire dies from exposure to the sun, it's also not like the movies; they don't just up and explode into ash. If only it were so quick...it actually takes like seven minutes, as the body gradually melts into this pile of bloody goop. It was disgusting, and I was glad that I had shoved him into the backyard and not the front for all his neighbors to see. After that little incident I went inside to find entertainment. I was happy to find his home computer unprotected, and after watching some pornography, I decided to begin writing this...account? I don't know. But if I live, I'll keep you updated on what happens.

title: Shitty Things About Being Supernatural

question: Describe Chad.

answer: Chad is a vampire and amateur journalist in a small town in Kansas.

question: Who is Dr.Werther?

answer: He is an eye doctor Chad had looked up in the phone book.

question: What is the Chad's relationship with Dr.Pinkerton?

answer: They do not have a personal relationship, but Pinkerton would have been Chad's eye doctor if Chad hadn't killed him.

question: What is "the task at hand" that Chad turns his attention back to?

answer: Chad turns his attention back to feeding Dr.Werther his blood so that Werther can turn into a vampire.

question: What does Chad describe as surprisingly effective?

answer: Chad convinced Dr.Werther that he's is Count Dracula, and that Werther would be able to return to normal if he fixed his eyes.

question: Why was Chad bloody in a slaughterhouse?

answer: Chad isn't actually in a slaughterhouse. He's referring to the fact that he murdered two people.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Chad is a vampire living in a small town in Kansas. He discovered that when he became a vampire, his vision decreased greatly. This leads him to find an eye doctor. However, during the quest he ends up killing two eye doctors. He realizes his eyes aren't getting fixed, and begins to write this story, unsure if he will survive.


text:
_Correction: This review has been updated to reflect that the Tesla Model 3 keyless entry system responds to a digital key transmitted by Bluetooth from the car owner’s phone or by tapping a thin card on the car’s b-pillar. The system was incorrectly described. Also, the “Autosteer” feature cautions drivers to check mirrors for oncoming traffic before activating a lane change. The level of autonomy was incorrectly characterized. Finally, the characterization of the body panel fit as inconsistent has been restored from an earlier version._

Peering over the instrument-free dashboard, I threw the compact Tesla Model 3 into an M-10 cloverleaf. Its balanced rear-wheel drive chassis rotated easily, then — _zot!_ — I bolted silently onto the freeway with instant electric-motor torque.

The “mini-Model S” is here, and it’s everything its iconic big brother is. And less.

Less, as in half the price. I spent a day around Metro Detroit driving one of the first customer-owned Model 3s delivered to Michigan. At a loaded, $59,000 ($35,000 base), the newest Tesla family sedan is considerably easier on the wallet than the $130,000 ($74,500 base) Model S sedans I have driven in recent years. Yet, in many ways, Model 3 is a more satisfying product.

Unless you’ve been living on Mars, you know the Model 3’s production launch has been a pickle — “production Hell” CEO Elon Musk calls it — as the young Silicon Valley automaker has struggled to get the assembly line moving for its mass-market EV with a range of 200-plus miles.

Musk’s bravado hasn’t helped. He boasted that Tesla would be turning out 5,000 vehicles a week by December 2017 (actual production: about 1,500 for the month). He took shots at legacy automakers, calling the pace of today’s manufacturing slower than “grandma with a walker.” Added Musk: “Why shouldn’t it at least be jogging speed?”

Critics have delighted as the most audacious auto entrepreneur since Henry Ford has struggled to get production up to a jog. But product will ultimately define Tesla — product that spurred an unprecedented 450,000-plus pre-orders from customers like me.

Take the much-ballyhooed issue of Tesla build-quality. Walking around this blue Model 3 tester, body panel fit is inconsistent. Gaps in the lid of the “frunk” — the front trunk — vary from nose to fender. An A-pillar seam is slightly misaligned. That doesn’t happen on, say, the similarly priced Audi RS3 I recently sampled.

I doubt owners will sweat such minutiae because the Model 3 is unlike anything they have driven. It’s the iPhone of autos.

Take that frunk: Luggage storage like that doesn’t exist on other cars except for the Porsche 911. But the 911 has a frunk in front because its engine is in back. With its battery-pack stowed under the floorboards, the Model 3 also has ample trunk-storage in the rear, augmented by bench seats that fold flat so you can pass through big toys like flat-screen TVs or skis.

The front cabin is as striking as the first iPhone you saw in 2007. The austere dash is uninterrupted by an instrument panel or butterfly-vent controls. Most controls are contained in a 15-inch, horizontal tablet that’s positioned high in the center console. Indeed, there’s not a single button in the cabin except for door openers and a federally mandated “emergency flasher” button in the ceiling. Glove box button? In the screen. Temperature controls? Screen. Radio? Screen.

Like a smartphone, the touchscreen uses a Google Maps interface for Tesla's voice-activated navigation system. More responsive than the last Model S I tested, Google Maps loads quickly and responds to direct voice-commands — there are no multi-step navigation commands like most cars. “Navigate to Vinsetta Garage,” I barked after a sudden urge for mac and cheese. Done.

Only the mirrors and steering-wheel position are not controlled through the screen; they’re adjusted by two thumb-operated orbs on the steering wheel. If the iPhone redefined phone glass, then Tesla expands auto glass with an uncluttered front screen, full sunroof and easy rear-visibility.

I’m an advocate for cockpit-centered displays — Audi’s Virtual Cockpit is the best — but with key data like speed and range located in the tablet’s northwest quarter, the Tesla layout works OK. It would work better if complemented by a reflective heads-up display.

The simplicity of design and lack of console shifter (the right steering-wheel stalk controls the electric drive) means the center console is one big piece of furniture with multiple cubbies for storage. Battery location in the basement also opens more rear seat acreage for 6-foot-5 giraffes like me. I sat comfortably in the back seat with headroom to spare under the tinted glass roof.

The exterior is a sleek sportback-eggshell that — while not as elegant as the longer Model S — is distinctly Tesla.

Instead of keyless entry via a fob like the Model S (and other autos), the Model 3 responds to a digital key transmitted by Bluetooth from the owner's phone. A thin card also grants entry if tapped on the b-pillar. Sensing the phone, the car unlocked as I approached, and then turned on when I slipped inside. Luke Skywalker would be impressed.

You’ll want to slip inside a lot because this Starfighter is a blast to drive.

My favorite compact sports sedan is the athletic Cadillac ATS. This 3,814-pound, 310-mile-range, 75-kWh Model 3 tester was every bit its match. Multiple Woodward stoplight launches (no Ludicrous mode here) yielded zero-60 times in the 5.2-second range (Motor Trend has recorded 4.8 seconds). The top-line 335-horse V-6 ATS? 5.6 seconds. The fat steering wheel feels rooted to the ground, the 113-inch wheelbase (the ATS has a 109-inch wheelbase, BMW 3-series measures 111) is balanced, the chassis flat as a board.

Flinging the Model 3 through 180-degree cloverleafs, I barely got a squawk from the Continental tires.

My tester came equipped with the latest version of Tesla’s self-driving Autopilot, which worked competently on I-696, though its turn-signal-activated, "Autosteer" lane-switch feature still not-so-autonomously cautions drivers to safely check the mirror for oncoming traffic first (impressively, sci-fi Telsa is constantly improving such features with over-the-air software updates). Most impressive is auto parallel-park: No hands — or feet — are needed.

As has been typical in my lead-footed Tesla Model S test drives, I took 44 miles off the battery for every 30 miles on the odometer. Under more civilized driving across Michigan and Ohio, my tester’s owner says he’s been able to average 305 miles on a full charge — not far off Tesla’s claimed 310 miles for the big-battery EV.

Only long-range Model 3s are currently being delivered — the standard-battery, 240-mile range $35,000 base-entry comes later this year. The wait isn’t getting any shorter — my projected August delivery is jogging four months behind schedule. But the mini-Model S lives up to the hype.

Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at hpayne@detroitnews.com or Twitter @HenryEPayne.

question: What does this article review?

answer: Tesla Model 3

question: What nickname do people call the Model 3?

answer: "Mini-Model S"

question: What other car is in the same price range?

answer: Audi RS3

question: Who is the author for this piece?

answer: Henry Paine

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: This review is for the Tesla Model 3. It describes many of the features and innovations of the new model. It also compares the car to other similar models of other makes.


text:
JANUSZ KARWETA (born March 20, 1988 in Oświęcim, Poland) is a Polish former competitive pair skater. He competed with Krystyna Klimczak. They are the 2007 Polish national silver medalists. They have competed internationally on the junior level at both Junior Grand Prix events and at the World Junior Figure Skating Championships and received the host wildcard entry to the 2007-2008 Junior Grand Prix Final, where they placed 9th. He also competed as a singles skater at the national level.

Although they placed ninth on the day, they were later moved up a spot to an eighth-place finish at the 2007-2008 Junior Grand Prix Final following the retroactive disqualification of first-place-finishers Vera Bazarova & Yuri Larionov due to a positive doping sample from Larionov.

Competitive highlights

Pairs career

(with Klimczak)

  Event                               2005-2006   2006-2007   2007-2008   2008-2009
  ----------------------------------- ----------- ----------- ----------- -----------
  European Championships                                                  16th
  World Junior Championships                      13th        16th        13th
  Polish Championships                            2nd         1st
  Polish Junior Championships         1st         1st
  Nebelhorn Trophy                                                        10th
  Junior Grand Prix Final                                     8th[1]
  Junior Grand Prix, Czech Republic               12th                    11th
  Junior Grand Prix, Great Britain                            15th        13th
  Junior Grand Prix, Estonia                                  14th
  Junior Grand Prix, Norway                       11th
  Warsaw Cup                          2nd J.      2nd J.

-   J = Junior level

Singles career

  Event                  2002-2003   2003-2004   2004-2005
  ---------------------- ----------- ----------- -----------
  Polish Championships   2nd N.      5th J.      3rd J.

-   N = Novice level; J = Junior level

[1] Entry/Resultlist

title: Janusz Karweta

question: At what rank did Janusz Karweta and his partner place at the Junior Grand Prix Final 2007-2008?

answer: Janusz Karweta placed 9th with his partner Krystyna Klimczak. However, they were later moved up to 8th place following retroactive disqualification of the first place finished Vera Bazarova and Yuri Larionov due to a positive doping sample on Larionov.


text:
CYRILLO-METHODIAN STUDIES is a branch of Slavic studies dealing with the life and works of Cyril and Methodius and their disciples.[1]

The first modern studies on Cyril and Methodius date from the late 18th century, with the discipline becoming somewhat classic in the 19th century.

The main research topics of the discipline are the emergence and spread of Glagolitic and Cyrillic. In this connection the questions about their authorship (the life and work of Cyril and Methodius and the so-called five Apostles of the First Bulgarian Empire among their students and all of them canonized as Seven Saints), the exact time and place of creation, the schedule, the authenticity of the artistic sources, the nature of the liturgy during their missions. The historical sources of Cyril and Methodius are mainly Old Bulgarian and Latin.[2]

The historical period on which the excavations are concentrated is the middle of the IX century - the end of the XII century / the beginning of the XIII century. During this period, the so-called Old Church Slavonic language or literary Old Bulgarian language was created and approved. In the following period, Croatian Glagolitic, Serbian Cyrillic and Ancient Russian Cyrillic - specific script and literacy were formed respectively, other than Old Bulgarian. The subsequent period in the development of the Bulgarian language is referred to as Middle Bulgarian or Middle Bulgarian language.[3]

In the period 1985-2003 he published four volumes of the Cyrillo-Methodian Encyclopedia.[4]

[1]

[2]

[3] Изследвания по кирилометодиевистика, изд. „Наука и изкуство“, София, 1985, стр. 192-193; Редакции на старобългарския език от Анна-Мария Тотоманова: Чешка, словенска, руска, сръбска и хърватска, като терминът „редакция“ се употребява и в смисъл на текстологична редакция, а като синоним на езикова редакция често се използва терминът „извод“. Някои слависти употребяват терминът „рецензия“ вместо текстологична редакция.

[4] Кирило-методиевска енциклопедия

title: Cyrillo-Methodian studies

question: What are Cyrillo-Methodian studies?

answer: A branch of Slavic studies dealing with the life and works of Cyril and Methodius and their disciples.

question: What are the main research topics?

answer: The emergence and spread of Glagolitic and Cyrillic.

question: When do the first studies on Cyril and Methodius date to?

answer: The mid 18th century.

question: When were four volumes of the Cyrillo-Methodian encyclopedia published?

answer: 1985-2003.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Cyrillo-Methodian studies are a branch of Slavic studies dealing with the life and works of Cyril and Methodius and their disciples dating back to the late 18th century, but popularized further in the 19th century.The main research topics of the discipline are the emergence and spread of Glagolitic and Cyrillic. Throughout history, questions arose regarding the authorship of texts-in particular, the life and work of Cyril and Methodius, and the so-called five Apostles of the First Bulgarian Empire. The historical sources of both figures are mostly Old Bulgarian and Latin. During the period of the middle of the IX century, the end of the XII century, and the beginning of the XIII century, the so-called Old Church Slavonic language or literary Old Bulgarian language was created and approved. Other scripts in different areas and countries of the region followed suit.


text:
>This is part five of an eleven-part novella that I wrote about a year >ago. They all work as stand-alones as well, so I thought I'd test the >reddit waters first by posting this (this is my first post), then if >there's interest, I'll start from the beginning.

            “See that man on the bench? The one who keeps checking his watch?”

            “Yeah, I see him. Think I should aim for him? Because I was thinking more that bus of school children that passes by here every day around this time. Could you imagine man, all those little kids watching something like that? If only we were exposed to such things at their age.”

            “Well, as good for them as it may be, trust me. Go for the old man. He comes by here almost every day and he needs this more than any piece of shit kid.”

            “I trust you, so old man it is. How much longer?”

            “Few minutes, give or take how much of impact you plan to make.”

            “Ha. I’m sure you’ll know just as well as I will.”

            “You know what kind of impact we’re speaking of, right? You could change a lot of opinions if you don’t screw this up.”

            “What kind of opinions are we talking about here? The kinds of opinions that are swayed by an act as simple as what I’m about to do? We don’t need those kinds of people. If they don’t believe in it themselves and don’t arrive there on their own terms after whatever hardships they’ve traversed, then it’s useless anyway. Don’t follow the leader who jumps off of a building.”

            With those last words, I run to the edge and after seven well-placed steps, I leap towards the sky below, 80 stories down. I did it. I finally did it. Oh shit I did it, I jumped. I jumped. Shit shit shit I jumped why did I jump SHIT I JUMPED. Ok, ok, just…just…remember. Why am I doing this? To better myself and no one else. Why no one else? Because every single entity I’ve encountered thus far has only been an extension of me and by denying myself a couple decades spent living, I’m presenting a gift to the whole of my species, the gift of a clean mental slate.

                                                            **-755ft to Destination-**

            *So I’m about to die. Well, I’ve been about to die ever since I was born, but this is simply the closest I’ve come. No, wait, now this is the closest I’ve come. No, now. Now. Now. No, stop, I can’t thought-loop my psyche when every misplaced image can’t be painted over. Death…the detachment of the personality from the corpse, the awkward pauses in conversation where I can feel my eyes grow just that much heavier; the ultimate lucid dream. Being so close to it now, I can understand at the same level as I did when I first gave my life ending any serious thought; that complete, yet incomplete notion of existing while non-existing, the essence of white space, the daydream that lasts into the night.

            My way of imagining it has always correlated to a recurring dream that I’ve had since I was maybe 4 or 5 years old. In this dream, I exist in a realm of utter nothingness. In this realm, no matter what direction you take or whatever actions lead your limbs, the effect is about as apparent as the cause is discernible. In this state of existence, time has no beginning and has no end. Everything around me is blank and the best way to describe it would be empty space. I am here for a reason and this reason comes to me in a complete thought, as if I experienced the idea all at once; in a realm without time, surely not inconceivable. The thought consists of a person who I haven’t met yet at that point in my life but I now recognize as someone close to me who needs my help. I attempt to speak and no words come out, but the blanket of space that has been keeping me docile is slightly rumpled and what is revealed is a bio-dome of sorts. Don’t get me wrong, the empty space remains and it feels alone, but a few bushes and trees exist alongside me in this new mental world. I begin to run and I can see numbers in my head counting down from ten. The first few seconds seem to take a lifetime, yet each individual nano-second is split into the mere act of breathing and non-breathing until everything is so sped up that my life is lived and re-lived multiple times.

            Whatever I’m moving towards could represent multiple things now that I look back on it, but at the time, it was just a person. Perhaps it was the attention or simply the act of looking my way; perhaps it represented a too- ignored side of me; but with this person seeming to be at risk for something grave, the strain on my psyche during the dream was staggering. So I’m attempting to run to this person because I need to save them no matter what and everything begins to slow down. My screams echo throughout the void and a bush catches my leg, causing me to trip. I can’t stand up and all I can hear are thousands upon thousands of numbers crashing through my mind. Once zero is reached, everything becomes still and my blood ceases circulation. Someone starts to cry and I no longer exist as a human being. I become part of the whiteness, part of the nothingness one could say. To be there while not being there simultaneously is a fascinating place to be.

            Coming out of the dream, I was always left in the same state for sometimes days. Time has no meaning and there’s this pressure that’s alleviated from my thought process. Over the years, I explored that place and each visit became a little more distant, a little less focused until eventually, I could achieve that bliss by closing my eyes and blocking out all thought.*

            Something hits me in the arm and tears right through it. I can feel the muscles tear as follicles and pores are ripped apart and my blood starts to stain the windows that pass me by on my descent. I think I hit a bird. Yes. I jumped off of a building and the first thing I hit isn’t the ground, but a bird.

                                                            **-620ft to Destination-**

            *Better to hit a bird than be shit on one during my fall. I couldn’t even imagine, being shit on right after I die. Actually, I would very much like that. Surely something I would brag about to friends if I woke up. What am I thinking, ‘if I woke up’. That’s the kind of thinking that led to a developed world and a developed world is what led to the death of everything else. Earth would’ve been heavily changed by the dominant species no matter what and even though the newspapers and anchormen always say that we’re killing the planet, no, we’re not. We’re making it unsuitable for human life and evidently, much more than that. The planet will be just fine. We will be just fine. In the over-arching outline of all that ever is, we were dead much longer than we were alive and a return to normalcy may be what the current civilization needs.

            To kill a planet- to assume that once all human life is gone, all life stops until someone is there to observe it. The conscious observer is just as bad as the conscientious objector and with both out of the way, maybe a pair of eyes will be able to appreciate something, anything, without either martyring it or attempting to organize an intrinsically chaotic system. Order comes from chaos and chaos from order; man from society and society from man. In both cases, one seems to be in control of the other. In both cases, that one is what spends a majority of its span as the unwilling, sleeping guise of the other.*

                                                            **-560ft to Destination-**

            *Someone must be watching me right now. Someone is seeing this body fall to the street. I’m sure that there has to be at least one parent covering the eyes of a child. I hope my body bounces and hits that parent in the face. Yes, I know that parents think they reserve the right to shield their children from the horrors of this world, but children need just as much violence and terror exposure as they need tenderness and love. The kids that I’ve seen grow up since I’ve been aware enough to observe with patience have been all but blocked out from seeing anything worthwhile. This is almost certainly not true worldwide and if it is, then I thank the lack of morality in the past few years for leading us to this, but children in this day and age lack almost every universally accepted attribute that make up for a stable, future-privileged human being. The people who grew up into leaders, thinkers, builders, artists, were not told to sit inside all day and watch someone who’s paid to entertain them. The technological advances that have been made within a generation have essentially changed the way that humans are raised in every single way. Humans aren’t raised in any way similar to what once passed for culturing a being.

            Everyone who can’t read or write is looked down upon; everyone who is without basic computer literacy is labeled backwards, obsolete; everyone who is without a job and an education, ostracized to the point where it’s a sub-culture on its own. The thing is, that describes almost the entire human species. Instead of being raised to develop into a healthy person with creative outlets chosen by the individual and paths taken at will, we’re all on mood-altering something or other and the outlets chosen are the outlets bought. We just plug in and absorb, whether it be the musings of Bukowski or the tales of Serling. No matter how high in regard the medium is kept, it is still nothing more than a medium, there to meet you half-way and keep you there until you create for yourself or imitate other imitators.*

            Feathers are pulled by the wind and out of my outstretched arms. From the ground, I must look like some sort of falling angel.

                                                            **-415ft to Destination-**

            *Out of everyone I’ve ever met, I wonder how many of them will realize that their last time seeing me was the last time that they’d ever see me. I’ve personally never been to a funeral, but I might as well show up to my own.*

                                                            **-350ft to Destination-**

            The open cut on my arm is being lacerated by the air flowing around it.

            *It doesn’t pain me at all. Not much pains me at this point. My mind is clear and my sympathetic nervous system – as calm as it’s ever been. At my rate of descent, I should be hitting the ground any second now. The old man better have stayed on that bench; he’ll be needing this. This all feels too surreal. If time as we understand it is truly a fundamental law that governs us, then I should have hit the ground ages ago. As much control as I have over the rate at which I perceive the world around me, it seems almost implausible that one could fall for this long. A single step, followed by a long fall; a single dream followed by a long awakening.*

                                                            **-235ft to Destination-**

            *This is it, any moment now and it will be complete. The wind resistance can only resist me for so long. Try as hard as anyone may, for to stop something this long in the making, one would need to reset humanity itself. In my most optimistic reasoning, would that necessarily be such a bad thing? Sure, the road moving towards me may not exist, but neither would the workers who built the road, the parents who raised the workers. The immigrants who wanted something better and the ones set on making something worse for the better.*

                                                            **-110ft to Destination-**

            *Where will these thoughts go once I hit the pavement? They can’t be lost to the clouds or oceans; can’t be found by the travelers or the beggars. If I regard myself as no more than an idea, then I will spend the rest of eternity lingering with my internal voice. My thoughts aren’t just spawned within myself and forgotten once I’m gone; it can’t be as simple as that. They must exist elsewhere, a place where the ideas that bring about species-wide revolutions in cognitive-ability and mutual understanding go to await the next cycle of patience-enabled statues. Some call it the collective unconscious and others just refer to it as deep-space, but I prefer to imagine the place where my concepts and ideas go to live out their usefulness as a realm readily available to anyone able to tap into potential, tap into my limited awareness and expand it beyond recognition. If what I’ve learned is still able to grow long after I’m dead, then maybe they won’t be Event #4. Maybe they’ll prosper.*

title: To Ponder

question: What does the story say about who the narrator is talking to?

question: Summarize the narrator's thoughts about death.

answer: The narrator comes to grips with the fact that he is about to die. He says that death is the detachment of personality from the corpse and the ultimate lucid dream. He correlates death to a recurring dream that he had when he was 4 or 5 years old, where he existed in a realm of nothingness, with no beginning and no end. It's an empty space and a realm without time. In the dream, he is there for a reason and it comes as a complete thought that consists of a person whom he hasn't met yet, but is someone close to him that needs help. The narrator attempts to speak, but no words come out. He can see numbers in his head counting down from ten, but the first few seconds seem to take a lifetime. Whatever he's moving towards could represent multiple things now that he looks back on it. Once the countdown reaches zero, everything becomes still and his blood stops circulating. Someone starts to cry and he no longer exists as a human being, becoming part of the nothingness.


text:
I stood in the doorway and wondered if the door would close. It didn’t, the hinges had come off. I guess I didn’t know my own strength. The staircase was right in front of me now so I descended into the living room. No one was there, not even the dogs. This house is empty. My family left me, took off to someplace distant. I suppose they had gotten tired of me.

I hadn’t had a job for months and my brain wasn’t working quite right. They noticed the lack of work but had no clue what was inside my head.

They had left everything inside the house, all the furniture, the tv, the food, almost all of their belongings except what was necessary. It was torture. It was like they could walk in at any moment and say they had gone to the grocery store. But this was not the case, they were gone and weren’t coming back. It had been awhile since I’d seen them, no warning was issued. They had finally surprised me.

I picked up the telephone and heard the empty space. When I tried to dial out it made animal noises instead of beeps. I got sick of it and plunked it back down. The electricity was still working but none of the objects that used it functioned correctly. The fridge was hot, the clock was lying, the lights made sounds; I flicked a switch and heard a man yell “get away!” The television only had one channel, and we had cable.

Something was terribly wrong so I walked outside. The small car my family owned was still there but it did not have any wheels. I took a walk down the street and looked around the town I had always lived. My neighbor was shoveling the sidewalk, but as far as I could tell there was no snow.

“What a storm, eh?” She huffed out as she scooped.

I gave her a puzzled look and moved on. As I walked away I heard her say under her breath “What a friggin storm”

As I moved along I walked past a small pizza place that had been on the corner forever. Only now it was not a pizza place, it was a clothing store titled ‘heaven’s little closet.” I looked in the window and all of the old employees were still there except now they had on fancy suits and were selling vintage clothing, not pizza.

WEIRD, strange…this is just not right.

A dog approached me and sniffed my boots. I scratched its ears and moved along once again. I got sick to my stomach and my eyes started to blur so I turned around and headed back towards my home. I  noticed a strong stench from outside of the house and as I walked inside it got worse. The hot fridge was melting all of the food inside into a boiling swamp of stink. I could hardly handle it. I looked inside and almost vomited, but I held my composure.

Nothing in this town was right anymore, I don’t know if I had changed or if it was the whole place itself but I had always hated living here so maybe it was a sign to get to someplace new. I packed a small bag of clothing and some food that wasn’t in the rotting fridge and walked outside.

I passed a small field of grass on my way and took the time to lie down. Grass hadn’t changed, it felt the very same. I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes it had gotten somewhat darker. I grabbed my bag, which was now a different bag, blue instead of black, and headed toward the bus station. It was on the other side of the street from where I remembered it being. I got on and didn’t even look where it was going to. Goodbye.

title: Left Empty

question: What does the narrator's strength have to do with the door hinges in the first paragraph?

answer: It could be implied that the narrator had kicked down the door.

question: How does the narrator know that his/her family isn't coming back?

answer: No answer.

question: What is the overall tone and mood of the text?

answer: Mysterious and confused.

question: Summarize the narrator's description of himself or herself.

answer: The narrator's brain isn't working quite right. The narrator is unemployed. The narrator is confused.


text:
Space
The distant future
A long way from home
Aboard the Solitude

They gave me enough rations and air to last a full six months. Enough to last the whole recon mission. It’s been long enough now that the sound of my own thoughts is slowly driving me crazy. Outside Observation is just space. Space as far as the eye can see. Dotted with stars smaller than a baby's laugh. A sea of stillness spreading out forever.

Just below me is Judas 5. The star I was sent here to check out. Do a full orbit, they said, scan the planets in the system for atmosphere, water, plant life, etcetera, then shoot the retros and get the hell back here. Easy peasy. Simple simple simple. Simple mission. All I really had to do was sit in this cramped space for half a year, twiddle my thumbs, catch up on my reading, and keep myself in shape. The computers handled everything, mostly. They auto-guidance systems guided. The auto-detector system detected. Then once the six months was up I just pressed the big shiny button on the dashboard and I’d be home before I knew it.

I wondered how Anita was doing. Dating was hard for Nauts. Noughts. We were literally out of this world for months, years at a time. Dating outside the agency was a nightmare. Wait, so you’re telling me I get to see you one week in fifty-two? And you’re looking for something serious? Riiiiight, yeah not gonna work. Long distance? What a joke. Dating within the agency was hell as well. Sure you find a nice girl, cute, smart (or course), fit. She likes you. You like her. You ask her out. You go out. She gets deployed to Ulysses 12 or whatever. Best case scenario, she goes out alone, not knowing when she’ll be back, and you get sent out on your own mission to god knows where, and you two somehow manage to sync your timetables. Somehow. Unlikely though. Worst case scenario she gets sent out with mister Joe Beefpecs and gets hooked up while on mission. It’s only natural. Half a year in a cramped little room with only one other person for company? Sex is a no brainer of a time passer.

Anyway Anita. This girl I’d met a while back. Cute. Smart. Kind of a sarcastic chick. Funny though. She said she was fine with my job, but if I get back and she’s moved on I wouldn’t be surprised. Six months is a long time to be away from home.

Home. A little apartment in the city, round the corner from this nice little café no one knows about. A quiet little space in a city that never shuts up. An empty room in a place bursting at the seams with people. Some nauts didn’t see the point of living off-base. Didn’t see the point of getting attached to earthbounds. Earthbound people, earthbound places, they mean. Kept their rooms on base bare because they never had time to decorate. I guess I see their point. If I’m away ninety percent of the time there really is no point buying a place of my own. But I dunno. I kind like that, the fact that I’ve got a little place tucked away, just for me. Maybe I’m just sentimental like that.

The Solitude. Shuttles as a rule didn’t get names. I know they used to name them all – Discovery, Challenger, whatever – but these days they were just given codes. ATS, PNB, RT7, FUBAR etc. This hunk of twenty-year old junk was named DSSS 92 back in the heyday of the agency, when we could afford to send ninety two of the fuckers out there. Out here. Into space. Deep space surveyor shuttle ninety two. Really captures the imagination. So I thought, yknow what, I’ve been on enough recons with this little guy to deserve to name him. Her. It. Whatever.

Solitude. Original I know. But I guess I might as well. What with the air situation and all.

Oh. That. Yeah.

Captains log number one. Number last.

Day ninety-two.
The DSSS solitude.
A long way from home.
Retros are busted. Got hit by a freak shower a couple months back. Meteor, not rain. Been orbiting this sun for near on two months now. Air running out. No response from Terra.   Looks like I’m on my own. No surprises there.

I

I don’t know what else to say. It’s not like I’m leaving anyone behind after all.

...

Oh yeah. my mission.
...

No habitable zones found surrounding Judas 5.
No signs of life in surveyed area.
Mission status complete. Heading home.

title: [SF(?)] Space (775 words)

question: Why can't astronauts usually date non-astronauts?

answer: They are away for too long, too often.

question: Why can't astronauts date other astronauts reliably?

answer: They each get sent to different missions, and if there's another person on board that people can get intimate with, they do. Months of boredom make the situation routine.

question: Why don't the shuttles get names anymore?

answer: There are too many to give specific names, apparently.

question: What is the narrator's fate?

answer: His ship can't go back, and the oxygen is running out. He's likely to die soon.

question: Write a ~7 sentence summary.

answer: With enough rations and air to last six months, the narrator travels to Judas 5 to orbit around the star, scanning the planets for habitable ones. He ruminates on how difficult it is to date as an astronaut because they are away for such long periods of time. It's not easy to date other astronauts either since mission assignments tend to muck things up. He's not sure if Anita would still be waiting for him when he gets back, six months is a long time. He starts the first and last captain's log, saying that his retro thrusters are busted, and he is running out of air. There's no response from Earth so far. Mission to Judas 5 complete, no habitable planets.


text:
[]
Big Fish Games’ new headquarters in Seattle. (Big Fish Games Photo)
Big Fish Games is cutting about 15 percent of its workforce, including several key executives, according to an internal memo to employees obtained by GeekWire.

The 16-year-old company, one of the icons of the Seattle region’s gaming industry, will focus solely on casino and casual games going forward, Jeff Karp, who joined Big Fish Games in July as president and managing director, wrote in the memo. The move comes less than a year after Australia’s Aristocrat Technologies bought Big Fish for $990 million.

“We’re doing fewer things better, to be bigger,” Karp wrote in the memo. “We are sharpening our focus to only develop social casino and casual games — genres where we have earned the right to lead the market.” He said the moves should put Big Fish “on a path to unlock the full potential of the business and to become a top 10 game company in the world.”

[]
Jeff Karp. (Big Fish Games Photo)
Big Fish told GeekWire in July it had 735 employees companywide, including 630 in Seattle. Big Fish would not say how many positions are affected, though 15 percent of 735 people would pencil out to 110 jobs affected, and factoring in only the 630 people in Seattle equates to about 95 jobs affected. Social media chatter places the cuts at about 75 people.

The layoffs are “mainly centered around the premium business, SkyRocket studio and centralized teams,” Karp wrote.

Several executives are leaving the company as part of the layoffs, including Senior Vice President of Operations Omar Amin, Vice President of Engineering Steve Galic, Vice President of Studios Pat Wylie, Vice President of Licensing Paul Handelman and Vice President of Advertising Kathryn Ficarra.

“While our journey is not always an easy one — and today was certainly among the most difficult — I’m confident we are starting tomorrow in a position of strength and with a clear path forward to greater success,” Karp wrote.

Here’s how Karp described the company’s new strategy in the memo:

  Going forward we’ll have four studios, and those studios will focus on quality content and making great games. Jina Heverley has decided to retire after 15 years with the company. Carey DiJulio, a 9-year veteran of Big Fish, who from 2012-2017 led the social casino business to over 400% growth, will be taking on the role of GM of Epic Venture Games.

  Next, we’re creating a new publishing vertical that will help every game optimize its full potential through strong functional expertise in marketing, product management, operationalizing data and building brands.

  Finally, we’re building a new cross-functional team that will drive prioritization and enable studios to make great games. This organization includes engineering, IT, Game Ops, BI, Operations and Insights. Katie Leggett has been promoted to VP, Operations, Insights & User Experience. Stephen Dunn has also been promoted to Senior Director of Developer Relations & Licensing.

  With this new structure and leadership, we’ll further strengthen our pipeline—adding more creative talent into studios, with checks and balances provided by the publishing organization. I’m excited by this new structure, and as a leadership team, we’re committed to supporting our new leaders as they step into their roles.

Big Fish has changed hands twice in the last four years. In 2014 Big Fish was acquired by Churchill Downs Inc., operator of the famous Kentucky Derby racetrack, for $885 million and sold to Australia’s Aristocrat Technologies for $990 million last year.

For the first half of the year, Big Fish accounted for $249 million in bookings, up 12 percent from the same period a year ago, according to Aristocrat’s financial filings. Daily active users were 3.8 million, a 15 percent annual increase.

These changes represent one of the first big moves under Karp’s leadership. The former Electronic Arts and Zynga executive recently took the helm permanently after former CEO Paul Thelen left following the Aristocrat acquisition.

Big Fish just moved into a new headquarters office in Seattle’s Pioneer Square neighborhood earlier this summer.

question: Who has acquired Big Fish recently?

answer: In 2014 Big Fish was acquired by Churchill Downs, Inc. Later it was acquired by the organization Aristocrat. These acquisitions have usually lead to changes in management.

question: Summarize the reasons why Big Fish Games is laying off employees.

answer: The new president has decided to change the focus of the company. The company will be focusing on casual games and social casino, which the new CEO feels will better fit with the company's target demographic and goals.