text:
Nora stepped out of the warmth of her home and onto her doorstep. She shivered as the cold brisk air slithered up her back. With arms tightly wrapped around her torso, she quickly walked to her truck. She was about to open the door when she stopped. She stood and listened. Noooora. With every plop of the dropping snow the cold called her name. She shivered and exhaled an excited giggle. Her eyes widened. With every inhale, every subsequent hot breath that entered the frigid air, Nora’s vision cleared. Noooora. She scanned her yard; nearly every detail without color. Slivers of brown, like the dark eyes of nocturnal beasts in a vast darkness, were the only distinction to be seen. The ubiquitous white filled her with with a profound sense of awe, a feeling intensified by the simplicity of it’s source. Her smile widened and she entered her truck.

Nora stumbled clumsily through the summer as if wandering through a thick, hot fog; her thoughts muddled from the daze. But as summer began to wane and crawl its way into winter, a nascent curiosity awoke. She began to see the world as if for the very first time. Air filled her lungs with a welcome sting, sounds had substance, and food - oh God the food! - tasted like manna from heaven. The cold was like the forgotten touch of a torrid lover. She felt truly and finally awake, and unlike the summer, her mind was a spear made of ice; clear and sharp.

She drove slowly on the freshly plowed road, not out of concern for her safety, but simply because she enjoyed the sight. The pine trees above her car stood proud and tall, like sentinels clad in white armor. They occasionally regarded her with a small plop of snow. The sky directly above her was clear and calm; resting peacefully from the previous few days. The calm landscape after a violent snowstorm always made her feel pleasantly alone. She often found herself, on days such as this, walking along the very same road she now drove, listening to the sound of her feet as they rhythmically crunched in the snow, enjoying the crisp unity of mind and nature. If not for the dark and baleful clouds that loomed to the east, she would be listening to her footfalls rather than the growl of the engine. But Nora knew that the storm was only resting, and that soon the sky would open up.

For three days the storm had raged outside, and for three days Nora's pantry was further diminished, but where her pantry was left empty, her spirits had never been more full. She had spent the past days by the warmth of the fireplace, sometimes lost in the world of a book, other times mesmerized by the dancing flames as she listened to the wind violently thrash around her. The outside world of work, of pain, and of boredom didn’t exist. She took naps when she felt cozy and warm, sang aloud with a fervor when she was glad, and drank directly from the bottle when she felt like it. But now she was in another world, one familiar, but primarily of effect. The white sea around her, and the empty pantry at home, all effect. So more than just a jovial car ride, she found her self on the road in need of supplies. She needed food and she needed wood. Both brought her strength, warmth, and enjoyment. Plus it just wouldn't have been right to go without a fire.

Nora glanced down at her gas gauge. The needle lay directly on the empty line. She barely had enough gas to make it to the store, let alone enough to make it back. She cursed, smiling. This revelation didn’t worry her. It had no power to worry. Her mood soared at a steady and high altitude, the current it rode on only getting stronger. There wasn’t much God could dish out that Nora wasn’t ready to devour.

She drove for another twenty minutes looking at the landscape around her. She passed no cars on the way to the store, which was good, because this was her road, and her little world, and she expected it to stay that way.

She pulled into the small parking lot of the towns only general store and gas station. She knew the larger grocery chain would be closed at a time like this, so she only had the little guys to rely on, and she enjoyed relying on the little guys, for they rarely let her down. She was taking the key out of the ignition when the general store’s small wooden door opened. An older man in a big puffy jacket exited and quickly turned back towards the door. Out of his pocket he pulled a set of keys and pushed one of them into the door. When Nora saw this she quickly and clumsily stumbled out of the truck with her hand outstretched in an act of halt.
"Wait!"
The old man whirled around and looked at her with a comical kind of surprise. He looked like he had just found out that instead of locking the door, he was about to set the store on fire.
"Jesus Nora! You damn near gave me a heart attack...”
He chuckled nervously and brought his hand to his chest. Nora walked to him and hugged him tightly. She broke the embrace, leaving her hands on his shoulders and smiled warmly.
"Oh Pat, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare ya. It's just I really need some supplies, and when I saw you locking the door I thought I was too late."
Pat nodded.
"Well, you're damn lucky you got here when you did, because you almost were too late."
He brought the key back to the door and unlocked it.
“Do you need me to grab you some wood too?”
She nodded.
"Alright, now hurry on inside and get what you need.”
He looked up at the sky.
“You can pay me later, I don't want to bother with that right now with the sky lookin so mean."
Nora kissed him on the cheek. She and ran into the store and grabbed only the bare essentials: bread, peanut butter, milk, cereal, a 24 pack of beer, and a bottle of jack.

When she left the store Pat was shutting the door to the backseat of her car. He looked up at her earnestly, as if explaining something extremely important.
"Now, you've got four bundles of wood there in your backseat, it should last you the next couple of days. You have matches?"
He lit a cigarette and offered her the lighter.
"I'm all good now, Pat, thanks to you. I have no idea what I'd have done. After this storm I owe you a nice big dinner."
He patted her hand.
"I’ll take you up on that, but more than anything you just get your self home safely."
She smiled.
"You too Pat."
He looked at her for a few more seconds before he turned and walked to his truck. She smiled in his direction and yelled.
"Thanks again Pat! You're a life saver!"
He lifted his hand and waved back at her as he walked to his car.
"Hurry home now! The storm's getting restless."

Pat took a drag of his cigarette and coughed, expelling a circling cloud of smoke. It hung in the air around him for a split second before a powerful gust of wind brought it up into the dark sky, where it disappeared under the strength of the malevolent clouds that were just beginning to awake.

Nora hadn’t even left the parking lot before it started snowing. It fell softly at first, like a musician using a peaceful set of notes, notes that would slowly crescendo into a boundless force of emotion. But the snow that fell softly to the ground around Nora was no song, but more like the soft belly of a strong and capable behemoth, one that when seen at it’s true apex, would be revealed as the dangerous monster that it actually was.

Ignoring the muzzled voice of danger that spoke deep in the back of her consciousness, she focused only on the voice of her excitement. A smile that was all but fleeting (one that can often be seen on the face of a child lost in their own alluring world) controlled her countenance. A gust would occasionally swirl the snow through the air around her truck. It was beautiful. For Nora, this moment was one that could scarcely be described. There was suddenly a glossy shine to Nora’s sovereign blue eyes. If only her frail human form could endure the cold, she would stand at the top of the highest mountain, becoming it’s highest point, and revel in the storm’s fury as it incased her in ice like a frozen monument.

A loud and hollow bang roused Nora from her dreams. Her gas gauge was well past the empty line. With the confusion at the store she had completely forgotten that she needed to get gas, and now she was less than halfway home and about to run out. The truck fumbled down the road an eighth of a mile, lurching her violently forward with each backfire, before it rolled to a stop. "God dammit!", she screamed. She brought her fists down on the steering wheel causing the horn to honk loudly; the last dying scream of the lifeless truck. She sat in the drivers seat watching the snow flakes float to the ground. It was so beautiful, but at this moment much to her detriment. The phrase "kiss of death" entered her mind, but she shook the thought off with unease. Continuing on that train of thought would bring her mind to dark places, places that wouldn't be productive. Panic was never constructive in situations such as this.

She traversed through her options carefully, analyzing each one with the concern necessary for an important decision; one that could easily become perilous with one mistake. Staying in the car was out of the question; she had food, but no water, and very little in the way of warmth. The wood was pretty useless here in her car, and the jacket she was wearing was not designed to protect her from the cold indefinitely. For all she knew, this storm could last days, and she would never last that long. She had no choice but to walk. She would move quickly to the first house she came across and hope they would either let her take shelter, or give her a ride before the storm made the road impassable. The thought that she might not actually find a house never crossed her mind.

Nora began to walk down the white deserted road. The snow was falling faster now, but the air had an eerie calm to it, and for a while, she didn’t even notice the cold. She stopped for a moment and turned back to her truck. It was still close, and for a brief moment she contemplated returning to it while the storm was still in its infancy. But instead she turned around and continued walking in search of salvation. If she was trapped in the truck for the entire storm she would freeze, of that she was certain.

The farther and farther she walked from the car, the colder and colder it became. Already, with her jacket fastened tightly around her skinny body, and the hood pulled completely around her head, she could feel her warmth diminishing. This town ain't big enough for the both of us, the storm whispered as her warm body passed through it's white domain. The trees shook as if brushed by an invisible hand, exposing slivers of brown as clumps of snow fell to the ground. With a shrill whisper, a strong gust of wind hit the soft powder and erupted it into the air like a frothy surf crashing onto a shore of brilliant white sand. Twilight slowly slithered from the shadows as the dismal clouds became absolute, and the fragile snowflakes that had fallen only seconds before became a wild flurry. In the air Nora could hear a buzz of energy, and occasionally she thought she heard something whisper her name. The monster was opening it’s eyes.

Nora stopped for the last time to look behind her, but her truck was nowhere to be seen. The blizzard had matured since she had stopped the first time, and it was hard to see much of anything now. In between the flurry Nora could only make out bits of trees, and anything that wasn’t already covered was quickly disappearing. Everything she saw, save for the road she walked on, belonged to the forest. She saw no sign of driveways veering from the main road  and into the forest. No remnants of tire tracks, no signs that cars even existed in this world; nothing. Her surroundings were barren of anything man made.

A strange thought entered her head, I wish I would have asked for a cigarette. She only craved a cigarette when she was nervous, and as she walked, shivering in the cold, she couldn’t help but think that she had made a mistake. But to say that she was nervous would have been an understatement. To be more precise, Nora was on the verge of fright. But even more of a misrepresentation of her situation was that she had made a mistake. Mistakes are things to be learned and never repeated, Nora had made a fatal error in judgment, and could only be lucky to be allowed to learn from it.

She had been walking for a half an hour, shielding herself from the intrusive flurry, when there was suddenly a strange lapse in the storm. The snow continued to fall, but it was more like the beginning; peaceful and wholesome. Hurry, you may actually find something, whispered the wind. Maybe this storm didn’t regard her in malice after all. She hurried her pace. With an expectant smile she turned her head from side to side. The fears that had been building alongside the strength of the storm began to wane. She felt foolish for ever thinking that her situation was one of the dire persuasion. She would be fine... Hell!, this little piggy might even just walk all the way home! To hell with all the supplies, she’d make do.

She was practically skipping when a blip of color materialized in the distance. It was such a deviation from the world of white she had become used to, that the bright red almost appeared to be glowing. It was all she could see, like a red dot on a white piece of paper. It stuck out of an embankment about 500 ft ahead. As she jogged closer she ran through the possibilities. What could it possibly be?  Maybe it was a sign of some sort, or a pole? Maybe something indicating a nearby structure? Whatever it was, it created a hump in the snow that was about a foot higher than the rest of the embankment, and the bright red object in question stuck a few inches above that. When she was about forty feet away, the object began to take shape. It was a small plastic flag, and for Nora, it seemed to be sticking triumphantly out of the embankment. She squealed in joy as she realized what this discovery could mean. She might actually be done with this little adventure, and that was good, because she was ready to quit fighting the storm and start enjoying it. She stood in front of the little flag and cleared the snow away. She looked down off of the main road in search of the house that the mailbox belonged to. The storm began to pick up again while she was searching. She couldn’t see a house, but she knew it had to be there somewhere. She grabbed the mail and walked off the road and in the direction that the mailbox seemed to indicate.

She had faith that there was some truth to the fabled axiom of a friendly neighbor. She entered an area thick with trees, an area that could easily get her lost. In the back of her mind she hoped that this wouldn't be another mistake to tally on the board.

 **(Story finished in comments)**

title: Nora of the Cold - 5, 404 words

question: Why did Nora leave her home in the midst of a storm?

answer: The storm had raged for three days and Nora was running out of supplies. She needed food and she needed wood. Nora was not afraid of winter weather. She loved the cold and the snow.

question: Why did Nora have to leave her truck and walk?

answer: Nora had little fuel when she left home and knew that she had to fill her gas tank when she collected her groceries. When she got to the store it was just about to close and she had to rush to get her supplies. In the hurry, she forgot to buy fuel. She ran out of fuel halfway home.


split: test

text:
She trembles as I run my fingers along the edges of her shoulder where warm flesh meets cold steel. I trace a line with the tip of my finger, curving under her breast. She lifts up her head and kisses me. From up close I can see her eyes have been augmented, the miniscule iris shutter opens and contract as I pull back. I reach down and touch her. Tiny servomotors in her spine hum at the dullest edge of my hearing as she arches her back. A moan escapes her lips as her neural implants release a flood of dopamine. I enter her. Her eyes clench shut.
Everything goes white as my operating system takes a moment to come to grips with the overload. Our bodies rush to meet each other, flesh pressing against flesh, steel against titanium. I kiss her neck, as she runs her fingers down my back. Her bio-mechanical steel hand grips my titanium shoulder and clenches with a force designed to rip a tank to shreds.
The world falls away.
The war a distant memory.

title: [SF] Not What We're Built For (little idea i've been mulling over let me know what you think)

question: Who is the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is a cyborg that is part flesh, part titanium, and uses an operating system to function.

question: Is the protagonist with a robot, android, or cyborg?

answer: Yes, he is with a cyborg.

question: Who is the woman?

answer: The woman is a cyborg just like the protagonist.

question: What are they doing?

answer: It appears they are making love.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The protagonist is a male cyborg making love with a female cyborg during wartime, presumably in the future.


text:
Our story takes place in a time long ago. The exact date is not of importance, but what is, is that this was a time, much like today, where vanity and pride ruled over those with weaker mental constitutions.

His name was John. John Cornhupple. John was, as the maidens and ladies alike gossiped and giggled, gorgeous. A 6’4” frame made hardened and muscular with a meager diet and hard field work. John knew of his affect on women. More than ten of his town’s ladies could thank John for their loss of maidenhood. He strutted around roads and stock houses like a steed with its mane flashing in the wind. He made no eye contact with others, they were inferior to his physique and to look them in the eyes during polite exchanges of words (exchanges where John’s contributions were terse) was to admit equality.

This particular summer was hot. It was late July and the town was still beneath a veil of muggy sweat. You see, this was long ago and air condition had not been invented, let alone conceived, so relief from the heat was found in shade. However, this was no ordinary summer heat. This was as if the fires of hell had pierced the Earth’s crust and spread their cruel inferno about the land, cracking farm grounds and sucking the life from the pear orchards. If one were to stand still for too long, even under the sprawling arms of an oak, their leather boots would begin to melt, starting at the souls.

Instead, citizens of the town frequented a waterfall. The water was warm but still refreshing and if one were to climb to the top of the falls, he would be given the sweet gift of a light breeze.

John was at these falls. He and 17 other maidens-faire (all of whom would giggle and whisper with every drop of water that slid down John’s marble chest). John had climbed to the top of the falls so he could jump off in what would be an impressive display of courage, an action that would surely guarantee him the innocence of at least  two more of the town’s maidens.

It was at the top of these falls that John met the Crone for the first time.

The Crone was an old woman. Some called her homely, others withered and dry, but the most common adjective spat in idle gossip was hideous. Citizens of the town would justify their spite by pointing to the Crone’s back, which was bent and appeared more knobby than the walking stick she used to maintain a 90 degree angle with the ground, less her back be allowed to revert to its natural acute positioning. The citizens would gossip about her face. It had a slightly green complexion, as if she had always just eaten a hunk of wormy bread. Her nose was long, and at its center it jutted up and come back down like the peak of a mountain. Her hair was a disgusting mess of raven black straw. She had apparently never seen a brush, let alone used one.

The Crone appeared from the bushes behind John. She painstakingly made her way towards him until she was staring at his feet. She craned her head upwards to gaze upon John’s immaculate beauty. “It as if God did not rest on the 7th day and instead chose to create you.” She said to John’s chin.

John was not flattered. He did not break away from his routine of flexing and trying to look gallantly majestic for the maidens.

The Crone continued, “I am but an old woman with no friends or family to speak of. I spend my days alone and my nights in tears. I have less than a week of life on this earth and it would swell my heart so, if you were to join me in company for what would surely be a magnificent last meal.”

John turned and looked at her. He let out an audible gasp of disgust upon seeing the Crone’s haggard features for the first time. “Be gone woman. A man like me wastes no time with the company of dying hags.”

The crone slowly turned around, her stick touching the ground seven times before she was facing the bushes from whence she came. She began plodding back to her sad shack. Her journey was no more than two miles as the crow flies, but the Crone’s knees were weak and her legs shortened, so the walk, which would have taken John a quarter of an hour, took the Crone 17.

When the Crone finally arrived at her shack, the feeling of despair she had suppressed in the face of John’s cruelness, overcame her. She began crying. The tears that rolled down her face were the tears of someone whose soul could not find a redeeming quality in the body it inhabited. They were the tears of a crippled old woman who was apparently fated to die cold, hungry, and alone.

She approached her vanity dresser and flipped open the lid which covered a wash basin and housed a mirror. Her tears poured down her face and off her bent nose into the basin, several of which splashed onto an old cut-throat razor.

It was then that the Crone knew what she must do.

“NO LONGER!” The Crone wailed, “No longer can I wait for death’s methodical and tortuous embrace!” She lifted the cut-throat razor, and in doing so accidentally severed her palm. The blood that poured out was curdled and black. She brought the razor to her neck and looked at her reflection one last time.

As she stared at her hallowed features, a single tear slid off her cheek and fell into her severed palm. The Crone closed her eyes and pressed the razor to her gizzard.

Suddenly, she felt a feathery sensation in her feet. They felt as if they had been submerged in a sack of rice. The sensation climbed her body. From her calloused feet, to her weak knees, across her groin and into her bosom. It reached her neck and spread across her face. It was the closest the Crone had ever come to feeling true ecstasy.
She closed her eyes and allowed what she assumed to be God’s comforting embrace permeate throughout her body. She dropped her jaw ever so slightly and let out the softest gasp of pleasure that had ever been uttered. And just as spontaneously as the strange sensation began, it stopped.

The Crone opened her eyes and found a tear-inspiring sight in the vanity mirror. She was no longer the crone.

Her nest of matted black hair was now a shimmering midnight color that cascaded down past her shoulders to the center of her erect back. Her eyes, which had told the story of generations dead and forgotten, now shone like flawless emeralds. Her wicked nose was petite and lady like. Her cracked lips pouched outwards and glistened with wetness. But the transformation was not localized! Oh no! How her body had changed! Her back was straight and her breasts perky and supple. Her legs were long and porcelain and her hands like a dolls.

She was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

John had just finished fucking (that is what it was; fucking, it could not be mistaken for ‘making love’ or even sex) two of the maidens from the falls. He had commanded them to leave him and he was now alone.

And as John often did when he was alone, he admired his own reflection. The muscles! the absence of fat! The curly blonde crown and square jaw! My how beautiful John was!

John turned to admire his profile when he felt a sharp prick of pain in his feet. Without hesitation, the prick became an eruption and the pain possessed every inch of John’s body.

It felt as if millions of hellish hornets swarmed about his presence, stinging again and again. The pain was so severe, so sudden and unexpected, that John fell to his knees.

He screamed. He howled. Involuntary tears welled in his eyes. And as suddenly as the pain started, it stopped.

John collected his breath, he wheezed and coughed. Each inhale was full of phlegm but sounded like it was full of rocks.

He lifted himself off the ground with the help of his dresser, and found a tear inspiring sight in the mirror. He was no longer John.

His curly blonde mane had disappeared and been replaced with a sea of liver spots beneath several grey whispers of hair. His eyes sunk into his face and his lips were so thin they could barely be distinguished amongst the canyons that cracked his face. His pectoral muscles, which once were as hard as stone, now sagged in two flabby torrents of veiny flesh. His legs burned with pain at the task of supporting his emaciated frame.

He was the most pathetic creature he had ever seen.

It was this realization that brought John to his knees once more. This time with an overwhelming feeling of despair. He cried. Cried tears so painful and sad they could have destroyed a child’s innocent outlook on life. The tears that streamed down the old man’s face lasted for three days.

On the first day of the old man’s despair, the Crone, or Isabella as she had taken to calling herself, visited the town. She walked up and down the dirt road that separated the buildings. She was adorned in a soft white dress that a vendor had sold to her under the compensation of her stunning beauty. She twisted and spun and let the dress reveal her soft legs. She flashed a perfect smile at men whom she caught staring.

At first, Isabella was flattered by the looks and compliments she received, but on the second day of the Old Man’s despair, she had grown weary of them. In but a day, she had developed a sense of entitlement over the men whom she should allow to gaze upon her features. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, was she not? The old and the ugly had no right to find even a moment of happiness in her complexion! Isabella had not grown tired of all the stares, far from it. Men whom she found attractive she welcomed with both open arms and open legs.

“Isabella,” the selected men would say, “You shine with the radiance of a thousand suns! And I would readily traverse ocean, mountain, or even the very fires of hell to gaze upon your beauty for but a second.”

Isabella loved that her appearance inspired such poetic emotion in handsome men, and she would embrace them, and kiss them, and make love to them for as long as she cared.

On the final day of the old man’s despair, Isabella visited the waterfall where she had once been spurned by a man as gorgeous as she. She had an inkling of remembrance that this man had been cruel and vain, but that thought was easily discarded when Isabelle thought of his striking appearance. She had hoped to find the man, simply so she could fuck him, too.

On this third day, Isabella bathed naked in the falls before countless men, young and old. She let the falls pour down her hair and tickle her lower back where droplets dipped inside dimples and continued to glide off her full buttox.

While Isabella bathed in pride and lust, the Old Man had finally scraped himself off the ground. He again looked at his reflection, but this time he felt no despair. Instead he felt contentment. This creature, No!, this person was he. He must embrace it and make it his armor.

How misguided he once was! To cherish only his physical features and allow vanity and pride to rot his soul! And how evil he was to women! Sexing those he chose and insulting those he did not.

But the Old Man’s humane epiphany was coupled with one much darker. He had but a week to live, and that was a generous assumption. He could feel his heart falter and sputter and the blood in his veins struggle to flow. He was to die alone surely, with his legacy being one of shallow spitefulness.

The Old Man would not accept this. With his new benevolent enlightenment he remembered the Crone who had once felt the brunt of his unnecessary abuse.

“She was but a tired old woman,” the Old Man said aloud, “and I treated her as if she were a dog in the chicken coup.”

The Crone quickly became beautiful in the Old Man’s eyes. Her wrinkles were not ugly, they were the badges of wisdom worn by a woman who had earned them. The Old Man decided that he must apologize, and if she were still alive, may she die in his arms, full of love, warmth, and company.

The Old Man began hobbling towards the falls, his destination: the Crone’s old shack which now stood like a brick fortress in his mind.

He reached the top of the waterfall and saw the familiar path through the bushes. But in the way stood a goddess. Shimmering dark hair, a wet glistening naked body, and eyes like emeralds. She stood atop the falls before an audience of excited men. She twirled and brushed her hair and pretended not to notice her suitors. That was until she saw the Old Man.

“You dare sneak up on me! You old pervert! Take your pock-marked face and begone!”

“I am but an old man with not more than a week to live. I am just visiting the old shack that rests not 20 miles though those bushes. A dying friend lies in wait there, and it is my hope to ease her passing. I meant no harm and certainly no perverse intrusion.”

The woman was not impressed, “I said begone! People like you are just so envious of people like me. With your undeniable grotesqueness and my unmistakable beauty, I can not blame you. Plus, the hag passed three days ago and I know she had no friends.”

The Crone had died? The Old Man was incredulous. It cannot be! The goddess with the serpent’s tongue must be mistaken! The Old Man mustered all his strength and set forth through the bushes.

He reached the shack and stepped inside. There was not a breath of life in the place. John felt the familiar feeling of despair once again. He would die alone! Die a former being of corruption and sin, only to be reformed into a beacon of compassion with no one to share it with!
.

The tears began to well in the Old Man’s eyes as he made his way to a vanity dresser. He flipped open the lid which revealed a wash basin, mirror, and black cut-throat razor.

As he stared at his weathered teary-eyed face, he noticed the razor waiting patiently. The Old Man knew what he must do. He picked up the razor, accidently severing his palm, and brought it to his neck.

“ I can no longer wait for death’s methodical and tortuous embrace!” He yelled. And just as he was about to slit his own throat, a single tear fell into his severed palm, and the Old Man felt a strange sensation as if his feet were sinking into a sack of rice.

The crone had just finished fucking a man from the falls and she was now alone and admiring her own reflection. She was on fire from the joy ignited by her own beauty. Suddenly, she felt a sharp prick of pain in her feet.

title: The Old Man and the Crone

question: What does the story say about razors?

answer: There is a razor in the vanity dresser of the Crone. The razor cuts the hands of both the Crone and Old Man. The razor is black in color. It is also very sharp even though it is old.

question: What does the story say about John Cornhupple's family members?


text:
“Goon Squad.”

The name came from behind the Clippers bench in the middle of an early December matchup with the Washington Wizards. Coaching associate and video scouting director Brian Adams, whom the team calls “BA,” spoke the moniker into existence as the Clippers’ bench crew fueled a one-point win over the Wizards. Every starter posted a negative plus-minus. Every bench player was a positive.

One reserve stood out above the rest: Lou Williams, who finished with 35 points.

“Goon Squad is just a bunch of guys who play as hard as they can when they come off the bench, bring that energy, that nasty to the game, that physical presence,” center Willie Reed told me. “Lou is _the_ guy, though, the head of the snake.”

“He is a self-proclaimed leader of the Goon Squad,” Clippers coach Doc Rivers said of Williams. “I joke with Lou now, ‘Lou’ and ‘Goon’ has never gone together, but somehow it fits.”

The nickname stuck, but Williams hasn’t stuck with the reserves. Injuries to the Clippers’ roster and a recent tear in which Williams has scored 30 points or more in seven of the past 11 games—including one game of 40 and another, against the Warriors, in which he had 50—have recently pushed the former Sixth Man of the Year into the starting lineup. Williams has started the past seven games, in which the Clippers are 6-1.

The recent scoring spree isn’t an aberration. The 31-year-old leads the Clippers in points per game, and 3-pointers attempted and made. Since December 30, he’s led the team in usage rate, too. He also has career highs in points, assists, 3-point percentage, and PER. And Williams is currently the best isolation scorer in the league.

The shots keep coming; the shots keep going in. For a natural scorer, his new role for the Clippers is the ultimate sweet spot. Williams has played for 20 percent of the league’s teams in his 13-year career. The list includes: the Sixers (seven seasons), Lakers (two), Hawks (two), Raptors (one), Rockets (23 games), and now Clippers (44 games). But only now is he getting an opportunity to shoot his shot as much as he wants to.

For the Clippers, who have turned their scrappy, hodgepodge roster into an identity, it’s worked. L.A. was expected to be contend for the top pick in the draft as recently as late November. Now it’s in eighth place in the West and trending upward.

“Lou has been a godsend for us,” Rivers said before the Clippers played the Nuggets on Wednesday. “What I like about Lou is that he was the best when we were at our worst. He’s just a really efficient player, more than I even knew.”

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

The Big Balls Dance is basketball lore. Dwight Howard imitated it just the other day. But it’s impossible to recreate the magic of Sam Cassell, with his long arms dangling and his hands turned upwards to cup his metaphorical, massive cojones, waddling after hitting a big shot. It was art.

Cassell hit a lot of big shots throughout his 15-year career, especially during a two-season stretch toward the end with the only relevant Clippers team before the Blake Griffin era. Now he’s getting to watch Williams do the same from the Clippers bench.

Cassell, now a Clippers assistant coach, has become Williams’s partner for Williams’s pregame shooting routine. His _guy._ It started when Williams arrived in L.A. over the summer, after he and six other players (three who stuck) were traded from Houston for Chris Paul. Cassell immediately approached Williams about working together.

“We have mutual respect,” Cassell said. “He knows my approach to the game of basketball, so it was easy. It was a perfect match.”

Cassell says he didn’t try to change Williams, or even coach him. Cassell asked Williams what his shooting routine was, Williams showed him, Cassell offered to work with him, and the rest was history (for 44 games, at least).

“We play similar roles,” Williams told me after Wednesday’s game against the Nuggets. “So his advice and his input has been important to me this year.”

Even though Cassell is Williams’s coach, he describes their relationship as more player-to-player than coach-to-player. Williams does his thing, and Cassell says he gives him small reminders from time to time. “If he’s not jumping on his shot, that he’s not speeding into his shot,” Cassell said. “That has been my job: to remind him.”

Williams also hasn’t needed much instruction on how to use his veteran presence in the locker room. “He’s been around. He’s been in the locker room with Allen Iverson, been in the locker room with Kobe,” 23-year-old Montrezl Harrell said of Williams. Just over a month ago, the Clippers were six games below .500; now they’re one game above. “He kept us in the right space when we were going through the tough time starting the season,” Harrell said.

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

A large crowd has a way of telling you how a fan base feels about a certain player.

At Staples Center, where the Clippers draw a bottom-10 rate, Williams has reached cult status. His pregame introductory cheer now rivals that of Griffin. Every time Williams catches the ball or readies to shoot, a crescendoing “Louuuuuuuu” emanates from the seats. Every time the ball swishes through the hoop, “Like I’m Lou Will,” from Drake’s “6 Man” blares over the loudspeaker.

The irony, of course, is that Williams—a career bench player who served as the sixth man for Drake’s Raptors—is playing better than ever as a starter. Despite the annual trade-deadline whispers building around him, Williams has become a dark horse pick for a spot in the All-Star Game.

Even when the Clippers get some of their usual starters (including guard Austin Rivers) back healthy, Doc Rivers said he won’t play them over Williams if this scoring stretch continues. The Goon Squad, meanwhile, would still gladly welcome him back.

“Of course, of course,” Harrell said with a laugh.

But ultimately, Harrell said, it may not matter.

“Whether you use him off the bench or start him,” he continued, “Lou has the offensive gift.”

question: Who is Lou Williams?

answer: At the time of this document, Lou Williams is a starter for the Clippers. He has had a 13-year-long career in the NBA and has played for 20% of the league's teams. He is the best isolation scorer in the league.

question: Who makes up the Goon Squad?

answer: It is a bunch of guys who play as hard as they can when they come off the bench, but Lou Williams is the self-proclaimed leader.

question: What basketball teams are mentioned in this document?

answer: The Clippers, Sixers, Lakers, Hawks, Raptors, Rockets, Nuggets

question: What is Williams' new role for the Clippers?

answer: He is now a starter.

question: Why does Cassell say he and Williams have a mutual respect?

answer: Cassell says Williams knows his approach to the game, and that they are a perfect match (Cassell is Williams' partner for Williams' pregame shooting routine.). Williams does his thing and Cassell only gives him small reminders from time to time.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This document discusses Lou Williams, a basketball veteran who played for the Clippers at the time of this document. His history, game play, talents, and the Goon Squad are discussed.


text:
URI BANIN (Hebrew: אורי בנין) is an Israeli chemist and a professor at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, currently holding the Alfred & Erica Larisch Memorial Chair at the Institute of Chemistry. He is recognized as one of the pioneers of nanoscience in Israel.[1][2] Banin is an associate editor of Nano Letters.[3]

Biography and studies

Banin served in the Israeli Defense Forces as a captain of a Dabur-class boat.[4] Following his military service, in 1986 Banin proceeded on to his academic career, receiving his Bachelor of Science degree in chemistry and physics from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in 1989.[5][6] He later received PhD from the Hebrew University, under the supervision of Sanford Ruhman in the field of femtosecond spectroscopy,[7][8] studying the ultrafast dynamics of triiodide in solution.[9][10]

Scientific career

In 1994 Banin joined the group of Paul Alivisatos in UC Berkeley as a postdoctoral researcher, studying the physical chemistry of semiconductor nanocrystals.[11][12] In 1997 he joined the Institute of Chemistry at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem as a senior lecturer, becoming a full professor in 2004.[13]

In the early days of his independent career at the Hebrew University, Banin used tunneling spectroscopy techniques in order to study the electronic properties of semiconductor nanocrystals, ultimately reporting the identification of atomic-like electronic states in 1999 in Nature.[14] His later work has diverged in the directions of both synthesis of novel semiconductor-based nanomaterials, the physical characterization of such nanostructures, as well as various applications. In 2003 his group has reported the first successful growth of colloidal zinc-blende lattice III-V semiconductor nanorods.[15] Continuing the work on III-V semiconductor nanocrystals, the group has published the synthesis of bright near-infrared-emitting core/shell nanocrystals,[16] later employing them in a novel nanocrystal-polymer near-infrared light-emitting diode.[17] In 2011 the group reported a simple procedure for the doping on nanocrystals, allowing the synthesis of heavily-doped p-type and n-type semiconductor nanocrystals.[18]

Some of his earlier works include the study of cadmium chalcogenide molecular clusters as a step between complexes and nanocrystals with semiconducting properties.[19][20] Setting this work aside since 2002, his next paper on the subject was only in 2017 reporting magic sized InP and InAs clusters.[21] Subsequent work on related clusters with the groups of Richard D. Robinson and Tobias Hanrath[22] has finally lead to the discovery of the reversible isomerization of inorganic clusters[23] – a discovery made by chance during the shipping of the samples. This work was called “the final bridge” between molecules and nanocrystals.[24]

One of the most recognized contribution of Banin to the field of colloidal nanostrucutres is the first demonstration of selective metal growth on semiconductor nanocrystals,[25] resembling well-known bulk systems such as the Schottky diode, and the subsequent refinement of related synthesis procedures and the discovery of similar structures,[26] as well as the physical characterization of such systems.[27][28] To this day, hybrid metal-semiconductor nanostructures are state-of-the-art systems in the field of photocatalysis. One of the breakthroughs made by Banin's lab, employing hybrid metal-semiconductor nanocrystals in water-based 3D printing and photopolymerization of common acrylates.[29][30] It was also later shown that such approach can also be used for solvent-free photopolymerization and microprinting.[31]

Banin is widely recognized as a pioneer of nanoscience in Israel, founding the Harvey M. Kreuger Family Center for Nanoscience and Nanotechnology in 2001 and serving as its first director for nearly a decade until 2010.[32] He was the chairman of the scientific committee and a co-chairperson of the first international nanoscience conference in Israel in 2009,[33] now an internationally-recognized biennial conference.[34]

In 2009, Banin became the scientific founder of Qlight Nanotech, which was later fully acquired by Merck KGaA for an undisclosed price and is currently located in the campus of the Hebrew University in Givat Ram.[35][36] In 2019 Nanosys signed an exclusive agreement on quantum dot patents developed in Banin's lab and held by Yissum.[37]

Banin has been an associate editor of the American Chemical Society journal Nano Letters since 2013.[38][39] In 2020 he joined the Advisory Board of Nanoscale Horizons, a journal published by the Royal Society of Chemistry.[40]

As of 2020, Banin has authored more than 350 papers that have been cited more that 24,500 times, granting him an h-index of 80.[41] In addition, he has invented more than 35 different patents.[42]

Awards and major grants

-   Miller Visiting Professorship, 2019
-   Israel Chemical Society Prize of Excellence, 2018
-   ERC Advanced Investigator Grant, 2017–2022
-   IVS Excellence Award for Research, 2017
-   Kaye Innovation Award, 2015
-   Israel Chemical Society Prize in memory of Lea Tenne for Nanoscale Sciences, 2013
-   ERC Advanced Investigator Grant, 2010–2015
-   Klachky Award, 2008
-   Michael Bruno Memorial Award, 2007–2010
-   Hebrew University Rector Prize for excellence in research, 2006
-   Willstätter Lectureship, 2006
-   Kaye Innovation Award, 2005
-   [Israel Chemical Society Award for Young Chemist, 2001
-   The Hebrew University President Young Investigator Award, named after Prof. Yoram Ben-Porat, 2000
-   Yigal Alon Fellowship for Young Faculty, 1997–2000
-   Award of the Ulshwang fund, for research program of the Israel Science foundation, 1998
-   Bergmann grant for young recipients of the B.S.F research grants, 1997
-   Fulbright postdoctoral fellowship, 1994–1996
-   Rothschild postdoctoral fellowship, 1994–1995

Notable alumni

Numerous former students and postdoctoral researchers of Banin are faculty members of Israeli and other universities.[43]

-   Taleb Mokari, Ben-Gurion University of the Negev.
-   Yuval Ebenstein, Tel-Aviv University.
-   Guohua Jia, Curtin University.
-   Janet E. Macdonald, Vanderbilt University.
-   Dan Oron, Weizmann Institute of Science.
-   Eli Rothenberg, New York University.
-   Amit Sitt, Tel-Aviv University.
-   Yehonadav Bekenstein, Technion – Israel Institute of Technology.
-   Botao Ji, Westlake University.
-   Hadar Steinberg, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.
-   Y. Charles Cao, University of Florida.
-   Ido Hadar, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.
-   Dirk Dorfs, Leibniz University Hannover.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]

[23]

[24]

[25]

[26]

[27]

[28]

[29]

[30]

[31]

[32]

[33]

[34]

[35]  האוניברסיטה העברית בירושלים {{!}} The Hebrew University of Jerusalem|website=new.huji.ac.il|access-date=2019-11-15}}

[36]

[37]

[38]

[39]

[40]

[41]

[42]

[43]

title: Uri Banin

question: What is Uri Banin's name in Hebrew?

answer: .אורי בנין

question: What does Uri Banin do?

answer: He is a chemist and professor.

question: At what university does Uri Banin teach?

answer: Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

question: What chair does Uri Banin hold?

answer: Alfred & Erica Larisch Memorial Chair at the Institute of Chemistry.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about Uri Banin, an Israeli chemist.


text:
MARY SALLY HOME (27 September 1930 – 3 March 1992), born in Southsea, was a British actress whose career encompassed stage, television and radio.[1]

Life and career

Her stage roles included Carla in Robert Muller's _Night Conspirators_, alongside Peter Wyngarde, both on television and the subsequent stage play in the West End and on tour.[2] In 1965 she appeared in Anouilh's _The Cavern_ (_La grotte_) in London, alongside Alec McCowen, Griffith Jones, Geoffrey Bayldon, and Siobhan McKenna, and in 1971 in Coward's _Tonight at 8.30_ with Millicent Martin.

On the radio she played Claire Nash in the BBC Radio 2 soap opera Waggoners' Walk NW.

Home took a variety of parts in television productions from the 1960s, mainly straight drama but also comedy. In a 1969 BBC TV adaptation of Dickens' _Dombey and Son_ she took the dual roles, of the haughty and tragic Edith Dombey (Granger) and of her cousin the vengeful Alice Marwood.

Personal life

Home met George Baker when they appeared together in the television series _Rupert of Hentzau_ in 1964[3] and they married ten years later. They had one daughter.[4]

Television appearances

-   1960 _Aren't We All?_ (Hon. Mrs W Tatham) BBC TV
-   1960 _The Fanatics_ (Gwen Freeman) BBC TV
-   1961 _The Weasel_
-   1962 _Charley was my darling_ (Barbara Willow) BBC
-   1963 _The Teachers_ (Kathie Elliot) Associated-Rediffusion
-   1963 _Julius Caesar_ (Portia) BBC (Shakespeare)
-   1964 _Rupert of Hentzau_ (Helga von Tarlenheim) BBC (sequel to The Prisoner of Zenda)
-   1964 _A Danger to Others_ (Julie Lamotte) Rediffusion
-   1967 _Witch Hunt_ (Maggie Lowther) BBC2 series
-   1967 _The Moon and Sixpence_ (Amy Strickland) BBC
-   1969 _Dombey and Son_ (Edith Dombey (Granger)/Alice Marwood) BBC TV serialisation of Dickens novel
-   1972 _New Scotland Yard_ (Angela Kingdom) LWT series 2 episode 7 'Papa Charlie'
-   1972 _The Fenn Street Gang_ (staff nurse) LWT series 1 episode 20 'Who's Minding the Shop?'; series 2 episode 7 'The Lady with the Lamp'; LWT series 2 episode 14 'Dypsomania on Sea'
-   1973 _New Scotland Yard_ (Angela Kingdom) LWT series 3 episode 11 'Monopoly'
-   1974 _Death or Glory Boy_ (Lady Otley) Yorkshire TV – episode 'Early Breakfast'
-   1975 _Nightingale's Boys_ (Brenda Cartwright) Granada series 'A.J.'
-   1975 _Sam and the River_ (Mrs Redmond) BBC
-   1977 _Marie Curie_ (Henriette Perrin) BBC TV series
-   1977 _Wings_ (Hon Evelyn Gaylion) BBC TV series series 1 episode 9 'New Deal'; series 2 episode 4 'Transfer'
-   1979 BBC Television Shakespeare: _Henry VIII_ (Patience) BBC
-   1980 _Holding the Fort_ (Lt. Col. Featherstonehaugh) LWT situation comedy - episode 'Jumping the Gun'
-   1983 _Fräulein Elsa_ (cast) BBC play
-   1984 _Data Protection, The Law and You_ (cast) Video Arts
-   1987 _Suspicion_ (Mrs Barham) HTV (based on Hitchcock)
-   1991 _Deptford Graffiti_ (Mrs G.) Channel 4

[5]

[1] Profile, imdb; accessed 20 February 2020.

[2] Synopsis and posters for Night Conspirators accessed 24 February 2020.

[3] George Baker: the man who might have been James Bond accessed 24 February 2020.

[4] Independent obituary for George Baker accessed 23 February 2020.

[5] Sally Home entry at the BFI archive accessed 24 February 2020

title: Sally Home

question: Summarize some of the key television productions Mary Home have acted in.

answer: Mary Sally Home was born in Southsea, Portsmouth in 1930 and became an actress who worked on stage, television, and radio. She took parts in Julius Ceasar (BBC) in 1963, Witch Hunt (1967), the serialization of Dickens novel titled Dombey and Son (1969) on BBC, Marie Curie (1977), Henry VIII (1979), and Hitchcock's Suspicions on HTV (1987).

question: What motivated Home to pursue a career in radio?


text:
Webster County}}

WEBSTER COUNTY is a county located in the U.S. state of Kentucky. As of the 2010 census, the population was 13,621.[1] Its county seat is Dixon.[2] It is the southernmost county in the Evansville, IN–KY Metropolitan Statistical Area. The county was formed in 1860 from parts of Henderson, Hopkins, and Union Counties[3] and named for American statesman Daniel Webster (1782-1852).[4] It was mainly pro-Confederate during the American Civil War and was the site of several skirmishes and some guerrilla warfare. Since 2018 it has been a moist county, with Providence and Sebree voting to allow alcohol sales.[5]

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (1.1%) is water.[6] Webster County is part of the Western Coal Field region of Kentucky.

Adjacent counties

-   Henderson County (north)
-   McLean County (northeast)
-   Hopkins County (southeast)
-   Caldwell County (south)
-   Crittenden County (southwest)
-   Union County (northwest)

Demographics

As of the census[7] of 2010, 5,272 households, and 3,716 families residing in the county. The population density was . There were 5,936 housing units at an average density of . The racial makeup of the county was 91.4% White, 4.1% Black or African American, 0.2% Native American, 0.3% Asian, 0.3% Pacific Islander, 2.3% from other races, and 1.4% from two or more races. 4.3% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.

There were 5,272 households, out of which 27.2% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 55% were married couples living together, 10.8% had a female householder with no husband present, and 29.5% were non-families. 25.4% of all households were made up of individuals, and 11.6% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.51 and the average family size was 2.98.

In the county, the population was spread out, with 25.9% under the age of 19, 5.8% from 20 to 24, 25% from 25 to 44, 28.2% from 45 to 64, and 15.1% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 40.1 years. 49.7% of the population is male and 50.3% female.

The median income for a household in the county was $39,635, and the median income for a family was $49,580. Males employed full-time had a median income of $41,662 versus $26,502 for females. The per capita income for the county was $18,879. About 11.9% of families and 16% of the population were below the poverty line, including 21.9% of those under age 18 and 11.6% of those age 65 or over.

Government officials

-   COUNTY JUDGE/EXECUTIVE - Stephen “Steve” Henry
-   PROVIDENCE MAGISTRATE - Tony Felker
-   SEBREE/SLAUGHTERS MAGISTRATE - Jerry “Poogie” Brown
-   DIXON/CLAY MAGISTRATE - Chad Townsend
-   COUNTY ATTORNEY - William Clint Prow
-   CORONER - Todd Vanover
-   SHERIFF - Frankie Springfield
-   JAILER - Morgan McKinley
-   COUNTY SURVEYOR - Keith Whitledge
-   PROPERTY VALUATION ADMINISTRATOR - Jeffrey D. Kelley
-   COUNTY CLERK - Valerie Franklin Newell
-   CIRCUIT CLERK - Janet Cole

National Association of Counties[8]

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ---------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |75.8% _4,397_   style=“text-align:center;” |21.4% _1,240_   2.9% _168_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |65.9% _3,607_   style=“text-align:center;” |32.3% _1,765_   1.8% _98_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |54.8% _3,037_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.1% _2,390_   2.0% _113_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |57.8% _3,207_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.5% _2,304_   0.7% _36_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |51.2% _2,599_   style=“text-align:center;” |47.1% _2,388_   1.7% _85_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |30.7% _1,568_   style=“text-align:center;” |55.9% _2,852_   13.4% _682_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |24.9% _1,408_   style=“text-align:center;” |59.7% _3,380_   15.5% _877_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |41.5% _2,159_   style=“text-align:center;” |58.0% _3,019_   0.5% _24_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |44.9% _2,504_   style=“text-align:center;” |54.5% _3,042_   0.6% _34_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |35.0% _1,939_   style=“text-align:center;” |63.3% _3,506_   1.6% _90_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |28.2% _1,402_   style=“text-align:center;” |70.9% _3,523_   0.9% _45_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |57.6% _2,396_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.1% _1,712_   1.3% _54_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |29.5% _1,446_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.1% _2,114_   27.4% _1,345_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |24.5% _1,217_   style=“text-align:center;” |75.4% _3,741_   0.1% _6_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |44.0% _2,498_   style=“text-align:center;” |56.0% _3,179_   0.0% _0_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |37.1% _1,948_   style=“text-align:center;” |58.1% _3,050_   4.9% _255_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |34.5% _1,858_   style=“text-align:center;” |65.3% _3,516_   0.2% _12_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |23.9% _1,087_   style=“text-align:center;” |72.4% _3,288_   3.7% _168_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |35.5% _1,840_   style=“text-align:center;” |64.1% _3,324_   0.5% _25_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |33.3% _2,107_   style=“text-align:center;” |66.4% _4,197_   0.3% _17_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |29.2% _1,983_   style=“text-align:center;” |70.5% _4,788_   0.3% _21_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |31.6% _2,257_   style=“text-align:center;” |67.7% _4,833_   0.7% _48_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |49.5% _3,527_   style=“text-align:center;” |50.4% _3,591_   0.1% _9_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |47.1% _3,131_   style=“text-align:center;” |51.9% _3,449_   1.1% _71_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |42.2% _3,554_   style=“text-align:center;” |57.4% _4,831_   0.4% _30_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |43.4% _2,082_   style=“text-align:center;” |55.7% _2,673_   1.0% _48_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |22.5% _905_     style=“text-align:center;” |24.8% _998_     52.8% _2,125_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[9]

Communities

Cities

-   Clay
-   Dixon (county seat)
-   Providence
-   Sebree
-   Slaughters
-   Wheatcroft

Census-designated places

-   Onton
-   Poole

Other unincorporated communities

-   Blackford
-   Diamond
-   Lisman
-   Little Zion
-   Ortiz
-   Pratt
-   Stanhope
-   Vanderburg
-   Wanamaker

Notable residents

-   Robert A. Baker, psychologist, author, influential skeptic, and Past Fellow of the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry
-   William O. Head, mayor of Louisville, Kentucky from 1909 to 1913
-   Kristen Johnson, Miss Kentucky USA 2005, 2nd runner-up Miss USA 2005, Miss Kentucky Teen USA 2000, 2nd runner-up Miss Teen USA 2000, Miss Photogenic
-   Chris Knight, musician/songwriter.
-   Cale Young Rice, American poet and dramatist.
-   Laban Lacy Rice, educator, author, and President of Cumberland University
-   Garrett L. Withers, represented Kentucky in both the United States Senate and the House of Representatives

[1]

[2]

[3] http://www.kygenweb.net/counties/formation.html

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

title: Webster County, Kentucky

question: What does the text say about the notable individuals that reside in Webster County, Kentucky?

answer: Webster County comprises prominent individuals that reside there. Robert A. Baker, the psychologist, author, influential skeptic, and Past Fellow of the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry. Then William O. Head, mayor of Louisville, Kentucky, resided in Webster County from 1909 to 1913. Kristen Johnson, Miss Kentucky USA 2005, second runner-up Miss USA 2005, Miss Kentucky Teen USA 2000, second runner-up Miss Teen USA 2000, and Miss Photogenic lived there. Then, Chris Knight, the Musician/songwriter, Caleb Young Rice, the American poet and dramatist, Laban Lacy Rice, the educator, author, and President of Cumberland University, and Garrett L. Withers, the U.S Senate and House of Rep Kentucky representative, all reside in Webster County.

question: From the 2010 census, summarize the economic status of Webster County.

answer: In Webster County, the per capita income was $18,879. The average income for a household was $39,635, while the average income for a family was $49,580. Men with full-time employment had an average income of $41,662, against women who had an average income of $26,502. 11% of families living in the county and 16% of the population lived below the poverty line. 21% under 18 and 11% from 65 years and above also lived below the poverty line.

question: What does the text say about the employment rate in Webster County?


text:
WILLIAM FRAZER MCCOLL JR. (born April 2, 1930) is an American athlete, surgeon, and politician. He is best remembered as a college football star before becoming a professional with the Chicago Bears of the National Football League, for whom he played from 1952 to 1959. He played college football at Stanford, where he was a two-time consensus All-American and third runner up in the 1951 Heisman Trophy voting. In 1951, he was the first person to receive the W.J. Voit Memorial Trophy as the outstanding football player on the Pacific Coast.

McColl was also a three-time candidate for United States Congress, running as a Republican in his native state of California.

McColl was inducted into the San Diego Hall of Champions Breitbard Hall of Fame in 1965. He was also inducted into the Stanford University Athletic Hall of Fame and into the College Football Hall of Fame in 1973.

Early years

William McColl, Jr., known by the nickname “Bill,” was born April 2, 1930 in San Diego, California.

McColl attended Hoover High School in San Diego, where the quick 6′4″, 210-pound youth was a multi-sport athlete, starring in baseball, basketball, track and field, and football.[1] McColl was regarded as one of Southern California's top prep athletes of 1948,[2] excelling in particular at football, in which his speed allowed him to get to the edge successfully on sweep plays, while his accurate arm made him his team's second most dangerous passer on option plays.[3]

McColl was named as a first team All-CIF football player for Southern California by the California Interscholastic Federation for 1947.[4] In the spring of 1948 he repeated the honor, being named as an outfielder to the first team All-CIF baseball squad.[5] His commitment to Stanford University for the 1948-49 academic year was regarded as being a newsworthy event.[6]

College football career

[Stanford right end Bill McColl successfully fights off USC defensive halfback (and future NFL Hall-of-Famer) Frank Gifford (L) for possession of a long pass in 1950 PCC game action.]

McColl enrolled at Stanford as a pre-medical student.[7] Despite his academic schedule, he still helped to lead the Stanford junior varsity football team to an undefeated 5-0 record in 1948, including a 30-0 defeat of arch-rival Cal.[8] United Press International described him as “one of the cleverest pass catchers to trod the soil this way in recent years”.[9]

In 1949 McColl played with the Stanford varsity for the first time. In his debut performance, finding the end zone on a 9-yard jump pass from Stanford Indians quarterback Gary Kerkorian[10] in the third quarter while shining as a defensive star.[11] Stanford rolled up San Jose State 49-0 in the game, helping to set a new tone for Stanford Indians football during McColl's collegiate career.[12]

Playing both offense and defense in this era before free substitution, McColl began the 1950 season on defense as a defensive end, but was moved to the defensive tackle slot by head coach Marchie Schwartz in mid-October following the loss of two key players to knee injuries.[13] The move proved successful and the 217-pounder was named as one of 11 members of the All-Pacific Coast football team by the International News Service, which reckoned him “one of the brightest sophomore ends to come along in a good many years.”[14] McColl's play was of such high caliber on both sides of the ball that more than once during the 1949 season he very nearly played complete 60-minute games, despite his newness to the varsity squad.[15] Stanford would finish the season in third place in the Pacific Coast Conference with a 7-3-1 record, hitting #12 in the penultimate Associated Press Top 20 poll.[16]

McColl's Junior year at Stanford, 1950, proved to be a personal breakout season although one that was less successful for his team. In addition to his offensive end and defensive tackle rolls, McColl shared duty as the Indians' kicker, experiencing the agony of a missed 46-yard field goal try against the Cal Bears in the 1950 “Big Game” — a 60-minute battle which ended up a 7-7 deadlock.[17] Despite high hopes, including a #7 ranking on the pre-season Associated Press Top 20 poll,[18] Stanford remained mired in the middle of the Pacific Coast Conference with a record of 5-3-2 (2-2-2 in conference).[19] McColl's own play had garnered national notice, however, and the big end was named to 7 of 8 NCAA-recognized All-American teams.

Bill McColl became a two time All-American as a Senior at Stanford in 1951. He had bulked up still further going into his final collegiate campaign, tipping the scales at 225 pounds[20] — massive for an end of his day. McColl's place as a star of the Stanford team was solidified by the continued development of future NFL quarterback Gary Kerkorian, who had long since made McColl his number one receiving target. Expectations for the Indians were down, with a pre-season coaches' poll predicting a 4th-place finish in the 9 team Pacific Coast Conference.[21]

Barely slowed by a broken nose in pre-season practice,[22] in September McColl scored a game-winning touchdown on a 28-yard option pass from halfback Harry Hugasian, en route to a 27-20 victory over the University of Oregon.[23] An impressive win over the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor in front of more than 57,000 fans followed, with the Kerkorian-to-McColl combination reckoned to be the deciding factor in a 23-13 victory.[24] McColl also garnered national attention for having contributed “impossible” catches in helping Stanford upset UCLA by a score of 21-7.[25]

McColl notched another key touchdown on October 27 against the University of Washington when he grabbed a 14-yard pass from Kerkorian on 4th down late in the first half.[26] Through seven games — all victories for Stanford — McColl was responsible for catching 6 of the team's 7 TD passes, gaining 427 yards on 28 catches.[27]

For his collegiate career achievement, McColl was named to the College Football Hall of Fame in 1973.

Professional football career

thumb|right|McColl on a 1952 Bowman football card.

Bill McColl was drafted in the 3rd Round of the 1952 NFL draft, the 32nd pick overall. He was selected by George Halas's Chicago Bears — for whom he would play his entire 8 year National Football League career.

Switching from his collegiate number 3 to jersey number 83 in the pros, McColl would play in all 96 regular season games of his 8-year NFL career for the Bears.[28] As a professional, he would catch 201 balls for more than 2,800 yards, including 25 receptions for touchdown.[29]

In the 1956 NFL season, McColl threw the longest pass completion of the year (79 yards) in an end around pass against the New York Giants and had the sixth longest reception at 69 yards.

McColl's career year was his seventh in the league, 1958, during which he hauled down 35 passes for 517 yards.[30] McColl's 8 TD receptions in 1958 would place him third among receivers in the league, with only two co-leaders ahead of him with 9 touchdown grabs.

Life after football

During his time with the Bears, McColl continued his medical education at the University of Chicago Medical School. He would become an orthopedic surgeon and serve in Korea as a Presbyterian missionary doctor from 1962 to 1964. He was recognized by the Pro Football Hall of Fame with a humanitarian award for his service and was voted one of the 10 Outstanding Young Men of America in 1964 by the United States Junior Chamber of Commerce.

In 1970, McColl ran in the Republican primary for a special election to fill California's 24th Congressional District in the eastern Los Angeles County region. The incumbent Republican, Congressman Glenard Lipscomb, had died and the election was to fill the vacancy for the remainder of the term. McColl ran a strong campaign and was involved in a close three way race with former congressmen John Rousselot and Patrick Hillings. Rousselot won, defeating McColl by 127 votes.

In 1972, McColl tried for congress again. He had moved to the Pasadena-Burbank-Glendale area, and he ran for the 20th Congressional District seat that was being vacated by retiring Republican Congressman Allen Smith. He finished second in the primary to state representative Carlos Moorhead, who went on to be elected to congress in November.

McColl made his third and final run for congress in 1982 in the newly created 43rd Congressional District near San Diego. In the Republican primary he once again ran a competitive campaign, but came in a close third to Johnnie Crean and the eventual winner, Congressman Ron Packard.[31]

Family and legacy

McColl married the former Barbara Blanche Bird at Beverly Hills, California in December 1953, and the couple returned to make a home in Chicago.[32] The pair would raise six children, two of whom — Duncan McColl and Milt McColl — would also play football at Stanford. Duncan and Bill McColl are the only father-son All-America football combination in Stanford history. Duncan and Milt both went on to the NFL.

[1] “Stanford Gets Star,” _Fresno Bee,_ June 15, 1948, pg. 22.

[2]

[3] “Cards Play San Diego Hoover High Friday in Third Try at Victory,” _San Bernardino County Sun,_ October 7, 1947, pg. 16.

[4] “Bill Scott on All-CIF Team,” _San Bernardino County Sun,_ December 16, 1947, pg. 19.

[5] “Bob Henderson Selected on All-CIF Baseball Team,” _Long Beach Independent,_ June 16, 1947, pg. 17.

[6]

[7]

[8] “Five Wins Without a Loss,” _Stanford Daily,_ vol. 114, no. 40 (November 19, 1948), pg. 18.

[9] United Press International, “Washington, Stanford Loom as Teams to Beat in 1949,” _Bend [OR] Bulletin,_ April 19, 1949, pg. 9.

[10] Kerkorian would be a 1952 NFL draftee of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

[11] “Stanford Opens Year With Win Over San Jose,” _Odessa {TX] American,_ September 18, 1949, pg. 9.

[12]

[13] International News Service, “Schwarz Experiments with Tribe LIne,” _Long Beach Independent,_ October 19, 1949, pg. 17.

[14] “McColl and Castagnoli Make All-Coast Eleven,” _Stanford Daily,_ vol. 116, no. 43 (November 23, 1949), pg. 3.

[15]

[16] “1949 Pacific Coast Conference Year Summary,” Sports-Reference.com, www.sports-reference.com/

[17] Bob Bernstein, “Indians Jubilant, Besars Not After Tie,” _Stanford Daily,_ vol. 118, no. 44 (November 27, 1950), pg. 3.

[18] “1950 Pacific Coast Conference Year Summary,” Sports Reference.com, www.sports-reference.com/

[19] “1950 Pacific Coast Conference Year Summary,” Sports-Reference.com, www.sports-reference.com/

[20] Dick Strite, “California Team to Beat in PCC Race,” _Eugene Register-Guard,_ September 2, 1951, pg. 11.

[21]

[22] United Press International, “Indians' McColl Has Nose Break,” _Albany Democrat-Herald,_ September 12, 1951, pg. 11.

[23] “Webfoots Form Surprises But Bows to Stanford,” _Salem Capital Journal,_ September 24, 1951, pg. 8.

[24] “Indians Scalp Michigan,” _Raleigh Register,_ October 7, 1951, pg. 13.

[25] Oscar Fraley, “Sports Parade,” _Bend [OR] Bulletin,_ October 15, 1951, pg. 2.

[26] Associated Press, “Stanford Turns Back Huskies 14-7: Kerkorian Flings Indian Victory,” _Eugene Register-Guard,_ October 28, 1951, pg. 14.

[27] Bob Myers, “Bill McColl May Prove Biggest Thorn for USC,” _La Crosse [WI] Tribune_, November 8, 1951, p. 30.

[28] “Bill McColl,” Pro-Football Reference.com, www.pro-football-reference.com/

[29]

[30]

[31] “CA District 43 - R Primary,” Our Campaigns, www.ourcampaigns.com/

[32] “Stanford Sports Briefs: Bill McColl Married,” _Stanford Daily,_ vol. 154, no. 52 (January 7, 1954), pg. 3.

title: Bill McColl

question: Summarize William McColl's college football career.

answer: William McColl was a medical student at Standford and, despite his intense academic schedule, he helped the junior varsity football team to a 5-0 record in 1948. McColl played with the senior varsity team for the first time in 1949. His debut saw him finding the end zone on a 9-yard jump pass from a teammate. Stanford defeated San Jose State 49-0 to set up a new era for the team during McColl's collegiate career. Despite his relative newness to the team, McColl played almost the games during the 1949 season with Stanford finishing third place in the Pacific Coast Conference. McColl went on to have his best season in 1950 though his team did not do as well. He became a two-time All-American as a senior at Stanford in 1951.

question: Summarize McColl's time after retiring from professional football.

answer:
After retiring from professional football, McColl would go on to become an orthopedic surgeon. He served in Korea as a missionary doctor for three to four years.
After his service, he ran in the primary race to fill California's 24th Congressional District as a Republican. McColl ran a strong campaign but narrowly lost by 127 votes.
McColl ran for congress again in 1972 for the Pasadena-Burbank-Glendale area after the office was vacated by the retiring Republican Congressman Allen Smith. He lost to state representative Carlos Moorhead who was later elected to Congress.
McColl tried for congress again in 1982 in the 43rd Congressional District near San Diego. He lost to the eventual winner, Congressman Ron Packard.

question: Why did McColl stop running for congress after 1982?


text:
  **^(CHAPTER ONE:)**

In 1887 two brothers, Louis and Ivan Thoen were collecting sandstone in the Dakota Territory, near the town of Spearfish, on a mountain range called Pahasapa or the Black Hills. The brothers stumbled upon an engraved stone slab written in cursive. The writing on the slab suggested that there had been people in this area participating in an unknown gold expedition 40 years before the 1874 Custer Expedition. This stone slab became known as The Thoen Stone, whose origin is as much a mystery today as the men who claimed to be the first to find gold in the Black Hills.

&#x200B;

The inscription on the slab reads:

*Came to these hills in 1833 seven of us*

*DeLacompt*

*Ezra Kind*

*G.W. Wood*

*T. Brown*

*R. Kent*

*Wm. King*

*Indian Crow*

*All dead but me, Ezra Kind. Killed by Indians beyond the high hill. Got our gold June 1834.*

*Got all the gold we could carry. Our ponies all got by the Indians. I have lost my gun and nothing to eat and Indians hunting me*

&#x200B;

Black Hills – Dakota Territory – 1834

There was a loud *Thud* as Ezra Kind slammed his back against the large pine tree towering above. His rib cage thundered in his chest as his heart pounded inside. Ezra took in a large deep breath, exhaling slowly. His hands trembled at his side. He gulped down another lung full of air in an attempt to control the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The breath that leaped out of his mouth was a billowing white cloud that slowly dissipated in presence as it rose in the night sky above him. It was a cold night and the chill cooled the perspiration saturating his body. Ezra, slightly more composed peered over his shoulder looking back in the direction from which he had come. His breathing had returned to a normal pace, controlled, and regulated.  Aided by the only light source he had, the full moon above, Ezra examined his surroundings. His eyes like a pendulum raked back and forth across the pitch black of the night. His 6’3” frame was stiff, ridged like the immense tree he braced against. His dark brown eyes were the only part of him that dared move. Rapidly shifting from left to right as far into the void that his vision would allow him. There was nothing. Only the neighboring sounds of crickets chirping. Off in the distance somewhere behind him Ezra could hear the shouting of an owl amongst the rustling of the swaying trees. Ezra squatted alongside the large pine, his legs were feeling heavy and his feet were sore from traversing the jagged landscape of the Black Hills. He turned his gaze upwards above the towering tree line to the night’s sky. Ezra took in the vastness of the dark above, the microscopic dots of light that glittered and flashed about. Momentarily Ezra was momentarily overcome by a wave of comfort. In his youth his older brother George had spent hours every night at the family home studying the constellations. On some nights Ezra would join him and George would teach his younger brother how to spot the formations. George’s favorite was Ursa Major, the Bear, Ezra’s favorite was Orion. Ezra locked his gaze on the sparkling bear overhead. He could not help but wonder if he would get home again, if he would get to sit with George and stare into the abyss above. Lost in the memories of this youth Ezra’s body finally started to experience fatigue.

Ezra had almost fallen asleep leaning against the tree when something caused his lethargic muscles to jolt into action. Ezra shot back upright, his back scrapping against the rough texture of the tree trunk. Once again the adrenaline rush began to boil inside him. Something was close. He could feel it, the alarm inside his body was sounding. Cocking his head slightly to the right he could faintly hear what sounded like footsteps. They were agile, swift and moving fast. Off in the North East something caught his eye. He saw it, a shift in the light filtering between the trees. He focused in on the object, letting his senses take over. In the intense focus his eyes began twitching, his ears rang silent with the hollowed deafness surrounding him. Nothing was making a sound, The Crickets were gone, and there was no chirping of any kind. It was as if the wildlife of the Black Hills knew silence was their greatest camouflage. The something emerged from within the depths of the trees. He locked eyes on them, the ghosts in the darkness. The imposing forms were closing in on this position. To Ezra what was approaching him what had terrified him into fight or flight, was the most dangerous predator in the Black Hills. The Lakota.

Stopping just short of a minor clearing in the forest tree line, the hunched figured morphed into multiple silhouettes. The five Lakota warriors crept through the rugged landscape as though they were skating on a frozen lake. Quickly, efficiently, inaudibly the Lakota seemed to float over the mountainous landscape that serrated the forest. Moving through the surroundings as if they were a part of it with an inherent beauty that Ezra couldn’t help but admire. During this treacherous expedition into the Black Hills Ezra had fortunately not had any encounters with the Lakota people, until tonight. In what seemed like seconds the Lakota had cut the distance between Ezra in half. Now clearly visible, the pale moon illuminated the painted faces, emotionless, stoic, fierce.

Ezra focused again on controlling his breathing. “Fuck!” Ezra screamed in his head. “There’s no way you can make a run for it now” he thought. Deep down Ezra knew bolting from behind the tree now would be a disastrous idea. The agile warriors would have no problem in locating him, death was the only outcome of that scenario. Ezra thought “waiting around for a confrontation with the Lakota while outnumbered 1 to 5 was a death wish”. He was screwed. He needed a diversion, he needed to buy himself a head start. Ezra slowly reached down and placed his hand over the cold brown handle of his Pearson revolver. Carefully and quietly Ezra drew the weapon from its holster, all while keeping his gaze on the approaching adversaries. He pulled the pistol up to his chest and cocked the hammer back. Ezra knew he would use his last bullet on himself if it came to it. Being alive during a scalping was the last thing Ezra wanted to experience in his life. With his other hand Ezra reached down for his second revolver, pulled it from his holster it and presented it at the ready. If he was going to go out, he was going to go out fighting. With both pistols hammer back Ezra took in several deep breaths. “This is it” the thought. He glanced back up to Ursa Major, he thought of his brother, of his parents. Ezra braced as he pushed his back off the pine tree and spun around, he aimed down the barrel. Nothing. The Lakota we gone

title: [RF/HF] Howling at the Moon

question: Describe the twist in the tale

answer: Most of the story is spent describing the disturbance in the night. Ezra has woken to five Lakota warriors in his camp. He is petrified. Nonetheless, he prepares to fight cocking both of his guns. He turns around and the Lokata have disappeared.


text:
1.  Home
2.  Features
3.  FPS
4.  Borderlands 3

[Borderlands 3 Shift codes]

(Image credit: Gearbox Software)

As has become tradition with each new Borderlands game, Shift codes are Gearbox's go-to way to dole out sweet post-launch loot. On a fairly consistent basis, Gearbox simply gives away these rewards through chunky 25-digit codes redeemed at shift.gearboxsoftware.com. Mainly, Borderlands 3's Shift rewards have revolved aroudn Golden Keys—special keys used at a chest in Sanctuary to unlock shiny new guns. It's quite a bit like loot box systems from other games, except these are free. The main catch is that Shift codes almost always expire, and sometimes pretty quick. That's why it's handy to keep a guide like this bookmarked. We're keeping a living log of every Shift code is it comes in alongside its reported expiration and the occasional permanent code. There's usually at least one code going around that'll work.

First up: The Borderlands 3 Shift codes that you can use right now to get 8 Gold Keys right away. Scroll down for the latest Shift codes and a guide to how to register them and use them in-game.

_If you're still playing Borderlands 2, head over to our collection of_ _Borderlands 2 Shift Codes__._

Permanent Borderlands 3 Shift codes

These Borderlands 3 Shift codes unlock Golden Keys, and should never expire, as far as we know.

-   ZFKJ3-TT3BB-JTBJT-T3JJT-JWX9H - 3 Golden Keys
-   HXKBT-XJ6FR-WBRKJ-J3TTB-RSBHR - 1 Golden Key
-   ZFKJ3-TT6FF-KTFKT-T3JJT-JWX36 - 1 Golden Key
-   9XCBT-WBXFR-5TRWJ-JJJ33-TX53Z - 1 Golden Key
-   ZRWBJ-ST6XR-CBFKT-JT3J3-FRXJ5 - 1 Golden Key
-   Z65B3-JCXX6-5JXW3-3B33J-9SWT6 - 1 Golden Key

Limited time Borderlands 3 Shift codes

Most of Borderlands 3's new Shift codes expire within a few days of being posted on Twitter. We're keeping an eye out for them. If you see one listed here, grab it!

-   5S53J-HHCF9-KRCFS-63TBT-3H9XT - 3 Golden Keys - Expires December 7
-   ~~K9W3T-BJZ59-B9SHB-6B3JT-T9CFF~~ ~~- Halloween heads - Expires November 5, 2020~~
-   ~~K95JT-HWCFH-5FKR9-RJTBB-HWJ36~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires October 19th~~
-   ~~K9CTB-5FTRH-KXWRH-FJBJ3-TKKTJ -~~ ~~5 Golden Keys - Expires September 20th~~
-   ~~C9KTT-HKJ6S-KFWRH-63B3J-ST6JZ -~~ ~~5 Golden Keys - Expiration unknown~~
-   ~~CHW3B-SHHCZ-CXWXZ-XJT33-CJTXS-~~ ~~3 Golden Keys - Expires August 10th~~
-   ~~WHCJB-XF9C9-KFWXS-XJT3T-3RTKR~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires July 6th~~
-   ~~WH5TT-CWZ5Z-WXWR9-63BB3-ZWBR3 -~~ ~~3 Golden Keys  Expires June 26th at 10am CST~~
-   ~~CB53B-WJTTJ-HJCZC-HBK3T-F3RX5~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires June 5~~
-   ~~5SKTJ-3CSKZ-WFCF9-6BJ3T-WC96W~~ ~~- Conference Call Shotgun - Expires May 31~~
-   ~~C3KTJ-WF9SK-F9F6H-56TT3-CZ6FR~~ ~~- 10 Golden Keys - Expires April 10~~
-   ~~CTWJB-H5HSW-R96RS-5R3BB-H33K5~~ ~~- 5 Golden Keys - Expires April 8~~
-   ~~C3CJ3-TRSZC-FHXX9-WRTTT-CJ56H~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires March 23~~
-   ~~CTWBT-RKZZ5-6S6XS-WR33T-RHZ59~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires March 16~~
-   ~~C3KJB-3H9HZ-63KZW-9BKJB-WZRCR~~ ~~- 5 Golden Keys - Expires March 19~~
-   ~~C3C3B-BB9SS-FTKHK-ZTWTB-99CRX~~ ~~- 10 Golden Keys - Expires March 3~~
-   ~~C35TJ-WH9Z9-X3KSC-S3KBT-J99ZB~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires Feb. 24 at 10am CST~~
-   ~~K3WBT-B5ZHZ-63CZC-S35JT-F3FT6~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires Feb. 20 at 10am CST~~
-   ~~5JWBT-FT9ZZ-FBC95-935JT-RTFRR~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires Jan. 31 at 10am CST~~
-   ~~KJCTJ-F9RZH-X3WS5-ZTWB3-BZR6J~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expiry date unknown~~
-   ~~WBC3T-5JH99-XTWZ5-9BKB3-BT63Z~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires Jan. 20 at 10 am CST~~
-   ~~5BCBB-5SRS9-RTW9C-9JCJB-XK3X9~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires Dec. 26 at 10 am CST~~
-   ~~CSKT3-6F9HB-ZWJC5-BTBT3-JJFXC -~~ ~~1 Golden Key - Expires Dec. 7 at 10am CST~~
-   ~~CHKJ3-B6HHB-ZWBK5-3JJJT-CRHFJ -~~ ~~1 Golden Key - Expires Nov. 22 at 10am CST~~
-   ~~WZCTT-5CSZT-ZW3KW-333JT-69ZW6 -~~ ~~1 Golden Key - Expires Nov. 19 at 10 am CST~~
-   ~~CS53B-FBS9J-95TK5-BJTT3-KJKTJ~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Nov. 11 at 10am CST~~
-   ~~W95BB-3BZS3-ZCBWC-BJT3B-9BTKS~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Nov. 9 at 10 am CST~~
-   ~~5ZWTT-SZXZ3-SW3W5-33BTT-X5Z3H~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Nov. 8 at 10 AM CST~~
-   ~~K9W3T-BJZ59-B9SHB-6B3JT-T9CFF~~ ~~- 4 Halloween heads - Expires Nov. 5 at 2 AM CST~~
-   ~~C9KBJ-6HXHT-9WJKW-BJ33B-SK95C~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Nov. 4 at 10 AM CST~~
-   ~~KB5JT-BFRZ9-XTWZ5-93KJB-3RRFT~~ ~~- 3 Golden Keys - Expires Nov. 4 at 10 AM CST~~
-   ~~W9KBJ-95X9T-ZC3KW-BJTJT-5FF3T~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Oct. 29 at 10 AM CST~~
-   ~~CZWJJ-X6XHJ-9CJC5-JTT3J-WZ6WC~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Oct. 28 at 10 AM CST~~
-   ~~KZK3T-K6RSJ-ZWTCK-JTJ3T-T3HJJ~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Oct. 27 at 10 AM CST~~
-   ~~CHCBT-TF6HB-ZC3WC-BT333-KBR3B~~ ~~- 1 Golden Key - Expires Oct. 26 at 10 AM CST~~

How to find the newest Shift codes before they expire

So far, many of Borderlands 3's Shift codes have expired after only a few hours, and are posted exclusively on Randy Pitchford's Twitter account. Following him is the best way to catch Shift codes that expire within 24 hours. You can usually spot one on Fridays in preparation for the weekend that will expire on Saturday morning.

Alternatively, the fan-run dgShiftCodes Twitter account posts every new Shift code after Randy tweets them out.

Borderlands 3 VIP codes

The Borderlands 3 VIP program officially ended on May 18th, 2020.

Prior to Borderlands 3's launch, Gearbox gave out Vault Insider Program keys that worked similarly to Shift Codes. You earned them by doing things like watching trailers or following its social media.

Now that Borderlands 3 is well past launch, the program has been discontinued. You are no longer able to redeem any of the old codes.

Borderlands 3 Shift codes and Golden Keys: How they work

Borderlands 3 Shift codes come in two forms, although only the Golden Keys above have been dished out so far. Here's the gist:

-   GOLDEN KEYS will unlock a special chest that is guaranteed to give you an item (usually a gun) of a high rarity. Shift codes often grant a batch of a few golden keys to use. It's sort of like playing a free slot machine, except you're guaranteed to get a rare item—just not necessarily one that you want.
-   COSMETICS: Some Shift codes will likely unlock special skins for Borderlands 3's vault hunters. In Borderlands 2, these were often tied to special events, and getting a Shift code was the only way to unlock the skin.

Gearbox may even have more plans for what you unlock with Shift codes in the future, but the redemption process is the same no matter what, and it's pretty straightforward—the easiest way is to use the website Shift.GearboxSoftware.com, after you've linked up your Epic Games Store, Steam or console account.

Here's how to redeem Shift codes:

-   IN-GAME through the menu. You'll copy the 25-digit Shift code, tab into your game and paste it in. Voila, guns or cosmetics for you!
-   ONLINE VIA SHIFT.GEARBOXSOFTWARE.COM. CREATE AN ACCOUNT OR LOGIN, AND MAKE SURE YOU'VE LINKED UP YOUR EPIC ACCOUNT SO you can redeem codes for PC. From the menu, click "Rewards" and then paste your Shift code and click "check" to register it. _Important note: if you use a multiplatform code and it doesn't work, try redeeming in-game before giving up._
-   OR ONLINE VIA THE NEW BORDERLANDS VIP SITE. Create an account or login with your old Shift account; from the Shift menu, choose "Redeem code" to go to the Shift page. On this page you can paste in a Shift code or a different code type (Borderlands 3 has several others) by clicking the appropriate icon. _Important note: Multiplatform Shift codes don't currently work properly on the website, and will tell you they're good for only one platform (e.g. Xbox). But if you redeem them in-game instead, they'll work on PC as well._

How to use your Golden Keys

In-game, your golden keys should be delivered to you via Borderlands mail. But how do you use 'em? That's simple: Head to the big golden chest in Sanctuary, near the fast travel point. Here's where to find it, and what it looks like:

Image 1 of 2

[]

(Image credit: Gearbox)

Image 2 of 2

[]

(Image credit: Gearbox)

Pop your key into the chest, cross your fingers, and ask the gun gods for a legendary. Good luck!

question: What does the text say about Borderlands Shift codes?

answer: Shift codes are Gearbox's go-to way to dole out post-launch loot.


text:
      Enter the Lion

I came from a small northern village called Irozka, it suffers a terrible winter eight out of the 12 months. I had been born the fifth son, but by my ninth year only three of us remained. The winter is harsh and claims many lives, but gives birth to the most beautiful creatures of the night. As a child, I watched them dance in the skies filling the world with green and purple light, swirling through the darkness beneath the stars. Sometimes I’d imagine them as wolves chasing one another, or the motherland gracing us. She’d outstretch her arms, holding us in her embrace. I felt so at peace watching the misty night sky, with the lights flitting gently, adorning our banal world with life.
My brothers and I looked after one another in the best way we could. Petrov, the oldest had the least-desired responsibility of keeping watch of us. At times when food was scarce, he'd give up his meals to satiate our own hunger. I always felt a surge of regret as I ate in front of his empty plate. I regularly assumed that he held a secret contempt towards me for taking what was rightfully his, but he never voiced it.
The people that lived there were as harsh as the land. They took what they wanted and defended what they needed to keep. It wasn’t odd to see death spilled on the white earth every now and then, and in consequence more blood would be splattered as equal payment. But our people never feared death, we welcomed it like an old friend. A rejoiced reunion looked upon as a high honor. My brothers were no exception.
I had watched them leave to hunt the migratory reindeer, layered in their past victories they carried spears and arrows in hand. Their figures disappeared into a whirlwind of our achromatic world, sweeping away their traces like it had my other two brothers. Sometimes I would stop to imagine what it would’ve been like to have them here again. But then I think of Petrov and how many more times he would have to starve for his younger brothers. Selfishly, I’d think it would be for the better if things just remained as they were.
When they returned through the white veil of winter, I could see crimson enveloping their fur coats. I rushed out to meet them only to find Petrov carrying my second brother, Mikhail on his back. The blood bubbled from the seared bits of fur and flesh. The reindeer they tried to slay had caught Mikhail in the side with its antlers and tore through his abdomen. His raspy breath grew shallower and his crystal blue eyes closed for the last time. That is where Mikhail said his farewell and joined in the glory of our ancestors. Petrov carried Mikhail to our dead grounds, where he’d forever rest. I felt grief and remorse flood over me, but I couldn’t show it. We aren’t allowed to. I looked to Petrov for guidance, but all he had was a blank stare for the empty night sky. The lights abandoned us to this darkened memory. “Liev,” Petrov called out with a stern voice, “Mikhail is with the whole now, do not feel sad but feel strong. We are all but part of one being, the time we spend here is nothing compared to the motherland. Be proud of Mikhail like you will be proud of me or I will be proud of you when the time comes.” He placed his large, pale hand on my head and ruffled up my auburn hair. “We must be strong. It is in our blood.”

      Petrov

Petrov was a very quiet strong boy, wiser than his age and understanding. Like the people of Irozka, he was born of snow and ice. He had a rugged square face with a sharp jaw line, a prominent chin and deep set eyes that radiated an icy-blue of the wilderness. His eyebrows formed a slight permanent scowl that hid beneath his messy ash blonde hair. He possessed a raised, angular nose with a slight upturned tip and flushed cheeks with pink, thick lips. He stood at 6’3” and had a long lean appearance with muscular arms and shoulders from years of archery. It was rare to see him smile or laugh, so it was always difficult to discern whether or not he was happy or constantly angry. But he had a kind heart, which was considered a weakness among his people. They cursed him for staying behind with his brothers, they cursed him for wasting his talents, and they cursed him for harboring the town demon.
Petrov’s youngest brother, Liev, had an aberrant appearance with his auburn hair and grey eyes. With difference comes division, and the town had left them secluded. But this wasn’t the only reason. Petrov’s father owed a multitude of debt, and ultimately paid with the price of death. Petrov never cared about his father, he was almost grateful that the butcher took his head. His father constantly targeted him because he was the oldest, and he had to face the punishments for the rest of his brothers. He didn’t care about the beatings, but what he did care about was not being able to fight back. It was unethical to raise a fist towards your origins and all Petrov could do was take the beating and continue in his own life. His mother was very distant from them all, she would at times mutter to herself as if she was speaking to another, but she’d remain in solitude. After she gave birth to Liev, she had completely given up. She no longer ate her meals, got out of bed, and at times, Petrov and his brothers could hear her sobbing echo through their desolate home. Until the day she left to join the motherland through rope in the shape of a noose.
But Petrov bore through and by the time he had to provide, he only had two other mouths to feed. He and Mikhail were a year apart, they were good friends but complete opposites. While Mikhail laughed and joked, Petrov would remain introversive. Mikhail never thought an action through while Petrov would’ve seen three scenarios before he decided against them and found a new path. At times this would frustrate Petrov, and at times Petrov would upset Mikhail with his calm demeanor, but they were so different that they worked well with each other. Filling in where the other lacked.
However, Petrov and Liev held a very rigid relationship. Liev was nine years younger than him and spent much of his time to himself. He had been called names and cursed at since the day he was born, and Petrov felt sorry for his younger brother. But he was also perturbed by Liev’s unnatural appearance, all those born in Irozka resembled Petrov and Mikhail. They were born of the ice and snow, but what was Liev born from? Mikhail voiced very clearly that they should take Liev out and “lose” him, but Petrov immediately rejected the idea. “He is blood of our blood, we have a duty to raise him.”

       The Men in White Cloaks

I watched the light peek through from behind the curtains, illuminating the hovering specks of dust. Each a separate entity of one great being, like we were. It was still early, the sun had greeted the moon and the night as they drifted away in the distance. As I propped myself onto one arm, still groggy with sleep, I could feel my stiff limbs bend and crack from the cold. Where was Petrov? The spot next to me was empty, and as I looked to my left, an ache surged through my chest. Mikhail was gone, and sometimes I would still feel like he’d be there to laugh and joke. But I had to remind myself that he had joined the whole. “Petrov?” I called out. No reply was given, but the echo of my voice. I slipped on my woolen socks and pulled the blanket over behind me as I sped towards the entrance. A howling wind surged through my home when I pulled back the door, only to see men in white cloaks, and there, kneeling before them, was my brother.
“Petrov!” I called out, but he couldn’t hear me through the wailing wind. The snow picked up and began to shroud them. I took a step out to my brother and screamed for him, adrenaline rushed through my veins and I began to run towards him. The snow grasped my legs, held me captive when I tried to see what the men in white cloaks were doing. In a brief moment of clarity, I saw red, trickling through the snow beneath Petrov. He had been hurt! I was in a frenzy, trying to get to him, trying to save him. But the closer I got, the closer I was able to see what they were doing to Petrov. The man he was kneeling before held up a small gun to his forehead, he screamed a foreign language and Petrov remained silent.
“Petrov!” I called out again, and this time he heard me. His eyes widened with fear, and the only words I could distinguish from his lips were, “run.”  That is when the man pulled the trigger, and bits of my brother’s head exploded behind him. There he fell as a limp body, staining the snow with red.
	Heat surged through me as I was brimming with rage. I belted out a cry that was almost inhuman and sprinted towards them, with the intent to kill. I tackled the man that shot my brother and we both tumbled into the soft snow. I could feel his hits, but they presented no pain. A flurry of movements passed until I realized I had a solid view of what was visible to me. I sunk my teeth into his ear until I tasted the awful amount of iron, but I didn’t let go. Not until it I felt it squish between my teeth and detach from him. I heard howls of pain from my enemy until a spasm of agony ached through my head, then a cold, cold darkness.

title: A dystopia

question: What was it about Liev's appearance that frightens the village of Irozka?

answer: Unknown. Lie looks different from the inhabitants of Irozka, and that seems to be enough reason for the villagers to hate him.

question: Why was Petrov killed by the men in white cloaks?

answer: Unknown.