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August 2. Good example of a vertical farm in Chicago. Some people imagine that vertical farming captures more overall sunlight, which is false if you think about it. In this case the building is not trying to capture sunlight, but to densely combine many functions, most of which don't require any light: kombucha, beer, mushrooms, and methane from compost.

August 9. I've been thinking about money and the meaning of life, and how strange it is that we try to get both of them from the same activity. Of course in prehistory there was nothing like modern money. But even through most of history, our ancestors found their meaning of life in family and religion, and the sphere of money was separate. Maybe they started to merge through Calvinism, and the idea that being rich is evidence that God likes you. Or maybe as the money economy expanded, more and more people were so successful at the game of making money that they came to see it as the center of their lives. Also part of the meaning of life is social status, and where it used to come from noble ancestry, it began to come instead from your occupation, so if you wanted to feel like you were living well, you would try to get a higher status job.

Even in America 100 years ago, I think most people still saw their job as an unfortunate necessity. But as the 20th century continued, America tried to take all the bullshit in the lives of rich people, and expand it to everyone: Everyone gets a country estate with a lawn, everyone gets a car, and everyone gets told that their job makes them important. In practice this means lifeless suburbia, nightmare traffic, and even people with bad jobs are tricked into being emotionally invested in the system that exploits them. This is the message of the Timbuk 3 song "Just Another Movie":

It's just another movie, another song and dance
Another poor sucker who never had a chance
It's just another captain going down with his ship
Just another jerk, taking pride in his work

The mid-20th century was the peak of Americans feeling that they were participating in some kind of glorious collective project. In the 1960's, belief in this project started to unravel, and the crew started to jump ship. In the 70's they called it a "midlife crisis" when people noticed that their job no longer felt collectively meaningful, so they looked for a new job that felt individually meaningful.

Now there's only room for a few people to make a living doing stuff that feels intrinsically meaningful. In practice, these jobs are snatched up by the elite, or the work conditions are terrible, because if you quit, there are hundreds of people lined up behind you who want to make films or work in a nonprofit.

It seems innocent to ask a kid "What do you want to be when you grow up?" or to ask an adult "What do you do?" Both questions hold a subtext that sets us up for a lifetime of stress and disappointment: What you do for _money_ is what you _are_, so if you can't get paid for doing something enjoyable and admirable, you're a failure. This is also why I hate the word "hobby", because it marginalizes and trivializes something you love to do, just because you don't get paid for it. We need a word, and a culture, that puts what we love to do in the center, and what we do for money off on the side.

August 12. A week ago I went to see The Dark Knight Rises, in which a villain named Bane takes over New York City and justifies it with talk about bringing down the rich. Criminals rule the streets, people are sentenced to death in silly show trials, and there's a neutron time bomb that will kill everyone unless Batman stops it. Lefty analysts are attacking the movie as an elitist reaction to Occupy Wall Street, but I don't think they quite get it. It's not that TDKR is about OWS, but that TDKR and OWS are about the same thing: the perception of extreme inequality of wealth and power in America.

So TDKR is not falsely accusing OWS of being violent and dangerous, because it's not about OWS; and it's not falsely suggesting that uprisings against the rich can be brutal and clumsy, because this has happened many times in history. The reason the movie is elitist propaganda is that it views a popular uprising as incomprehensible chaos. It refuses to imagine that anyone involved could have an intelligent motivation. Is Bane selfish or altruistic? If he's altruistic, why doesn't he help people turn apartment buildings into autonomous communities, and turn streets into food forests? If he's selfish, why doesn't he set himself up in a palace full of slaves? In either case, why the bomb? And if he wants to kill everyone, why doesn't he do it the first chance he gets?

On one level, this is just bad writing: the villain is there to create interesting challenges for the hero, never mind his motivation. But if you take it seriously as a political statement, the message is that opposition to the dominant system can only come from a perspective of total insanity.

August 23-24. New Ribbonfarm post, Waste, Creativity and Godwin's Corollary for Technology. Venkat points out that there is such a thing as good waste:

This is the sort of waste people mean when they say to become a good artist, you have to waste paper... Here's the thing about good waste: it fosters creativity. If you have the luxury of being able to waste a resource, it means you don't have to think about it. It is not an active constraint... This simplifies your thinking, which allows you to redeploy those mental resources on more fertile fronts.

Could the idea of good waste apply to wasting time? Everyone is so busy, and how many things could we do better if we did not have to think about time as a constraint? And when a culture constrained by time observes a culture not constrained by time, and fails to appreciate it, it uses the word "lazy".

Waste is a matter of perspective. If you get a guaranteed basic income, it seems like a waste of your labor from the perspective of rich people who want to buy your labor, but from your perspective, your labor has been preserved for activities that you find personally meaningful.

Chuck comments that "waste" implies scarcity. So if there's an unlimited amount of something, it doesn't make sense to talk about wasting it; but as it gets more scarce, waste becomes more of an issue, and there is more controversy about who gets to use it. Consider the popular right wing position on energy scarcity: there is no energy scarcity, so we should all use as much as we want. Because these people are disempowered authoritarians, they cannot accept that energy is scarce, because that would mean they have no right to it. The radical move here is to admit that energy is scarce, and still insist that we all have the right to use it up, even in ways that other people think are wasteful.

September 17. A few thoughts on the Muslim riots. First, if they said, "We are rioting because of the military occupation of our lands and the economic exploitation of our people," more than half the world would be on their side. But when they say, "We are rioting because someone made a movie somewhere that insults our religion," not even half of _Muslims_ are on their side. This is a public relations catastrophe for Islam.

Now, some people are saying, in Islamic culture, politics and religion are one, and they actually _are_ rioting for political reasons even though they say it's for religious reasons. Fair enough. But if they understood _our_ culture, they would frame the riots in political terms, not religious. And because the secular west is in a position of power, for us to understand their culture is merely a matter of politeness; for them to understand our culture is a matter of survival.

I can't help but see this in terms of Darwinian competition. If an organism has a behavior that is no longer adapted to its environment, if this behavior is self-harmful and can be reliably incited by competitors, it _will_ be incited by competitors, until the maladapted organism changes or dies. In this case, the behavior is responding to symbolic expression with physical violence, which is no longer tolerated in the modern world. For an illustration of the gap between radical Islam and other major religions, here's an offensive piece from the Onion, No One Murdered Because Of This Image.

I think there's an even deeper cause of the riots, and also the anti-Japan riots in China, and the coming riots in your city. According to this article, Freedom to Riot: On the Evolution of Collective Violence, primates always have the potential to come together in a violent mob against a common enemy -- but this happens much more easily when we're already under stress:

Hundreds of studies with captive primates have shown that impoverished environments result in heightened aggression and antisocial behavior. Such behavior has been shown to significantly increase under conditions of overcrowding, when there's a lack of novelty in food, entertainment, or social opportunities, when the population increases and the number of strangers in a colony grows, or, most crucially, when food is limited and/or fluctuates dramatically.
...
Another study found that increasing the amount of food in a captive colony of rhesus macaques by 25 percent decreased the amount of aggression by 50 percent. However, when a normal amount of food was restricted (by placing it in a single basket where it could be monopolized by a few high-ranking individuals) the level of overall aggression tripled and the number of violent attacks per hour was five times greater.

September 23. Reddit comment about UPS vs Fed Ex, and how the different economic models of the two companies lead to different cultures. UPS drivers are mellow and happy because they have job security and good benefits, while FedEx is a war zone where a few drivers make tons of money while most of them are stressed out and angry.

September 24-26. Difficult essay, Trade-offs between inequality, productivity, and employment. The core idea is that rich people can only spend so much money on goods and services before it becomes pointless. Like that line from Wall Street: "How many yachts can you water-ski behind?" But they can spend unlimited money, and never be satisfied, competing with other rich people, and trying to avoid losing money and power.

I don't think the author appreciates how irrational this is. He uses the metaphor of a sinking ship with a few lifeboats auctioned to the highest bidder. But in most economic collapses and famines, you're fine if you're just not poor. The rich don't need insurance against starving and dying, but against the emotional pain of losing control. Because that's what we really spend money on after our basic needs are met: absolute control of a larger personal space, hiring more labor of other people, and an increasing share of control in the whole world.

It is the nature of control that the more you have, the less satisfied you are, because the circumference of your limit of control gets larger. "The bigger you build the bonfire, the more darkness is revealed." And yet the shrinking of that sphere is painful, because people and things that you were able to dominate, you now must meet as equals. As your control recedes, you have to extend your understanding.

October 4-5. Reddit comment about sex work vs food service:

I get so frustrated at how I'm treated at work. I find myself involuntarily crying once I get into my car to drive home. I hate how dehumanizing it is. People don't acknowledge me as a person. They think I'm less than them because of my job. Oh, by the way, I'm talking about the food service job.

When I'm doing sex work I can refuse a customer. I can be rude to them if they are being rude to me. I don't have to apologize for their mistakes. I don't have to be sweet when they are being inappropriate. I negotiate my limits, and I only do what I feel comfortable doing.

A reader sends a forum thread with a similar message, Ask me about being a sex worker in Australia.

Of course, there are many sex workers living in full-on slavery. But it's hard to think of sex workers being halfway exploited like food service workers. I think a reader has the answer: it is the nature of sex work that it's easy for workers to be independent. This is why, if the workers are to be controlled, their whole lives must be controlled. In food service, health care, academia, and manufacturing, it's much harder for workers to quit and provide the same service on their own, so management can afford to treat them badly at work while leaving them somewhat free outside of work.

October 12. The Marshmallow Study Revisited. In the original study, they gave kids a marshmallow and if they could hold off eating it they would get two marshmallows, and their ability to delay gratification was strongly correlated with their future success. The easy interpretation is that some people are inherently better at life. But there has been speculation that the kids who "failed" came from families where future conditions were unpredictable and the promises of adults were unreliable, so they were behaving rationally by grabbing the marshmallow while they could. This interpretation has now been confirmed by more experiments, in which kids were primed by reliable or unreliable environments immediately before the test, and the kids from reliable environments held out almost four times longer!

Obviously a reliable environment is preferable. But I'm also thinking, suppose there's some catastrophe in which life suddenly becomes unreliable. Then would people from bad families have an advantage?

October 16. Subreddit thread about what the universe is made of.

I want to say more about "consciousness". It's impossible for me to know whether this whole world is my dream, but _you_ know it's not my dream, and I know it's not yours. What is it that knows that? This is not the same thing as _human_ consciousness, which is defined by human biology. When we ask what it's like to be human, there is a deeper question: What is it like to be anything? Or what is it like to be?

Does it make sense to ask what it's like to be a dog? a tree? a rock? Most modern people will say yes, maybe, no. I would say yes, but... where do we draw the line between rock and mountain, tree and forest, wave and ocean? Our concept of "being" is defined by our human ego and language, and the farther away we look, the harder it is to even ask the right questions.

There's an exercise called the "not that" meditation, where you ask yourself "what am I?" and no matter what the answer, you say "not that" and keep looking. Sometimes I think this world is like an immersive role-playing game, where the character forgets being the player. Aldous Huxley said the brain is not the source of consciousness but a filter. Rudy Rucker has compared universal consciousness to light passing through a stained glass window. The human brain must be a spectacular piece of glass, but when it breaks, there is still the light.

October 22. New post on Mythodrome about the real estate market. Paula is looking for a house in Pittsburgh, and agents are strongly discouraging her from buying a foreclosure, saying "leave this type of purchase to investors." She points out, if only investors can benefit from the lower cost of buying a foreclosure, this "constitutes a two-phase transfer of wealth."

First, buying a house is linked to borrowing money. Imagine how much cheaper houses would be (and also education and health care) if everyone had to pay with cash up front. Lending, while appearing to increase opportunity, ultimately destroys opportunity, because prices just rise to match what people can now afford to pay by signing over their future labor to large concentrations of money/power. Next, prices are pumped up even higher by lending money to people who will never be able to repay. When they inevitably default, real estate prices crash. Then (and this is Paula's point) the benefit of these lower costs goes to investment companies and not to actual people who need a place to live. The investment companies buy low and sell high, the human buyers need loans, and the cycle repeats, like pistons in an engine.

Now, it's tempting to say that banks and investment companies are "evil". This is false, and the other side of the false coin is the idea that borrowers have a moral obligation to repay. Morality does not apply to machine-like financial institutions, any more than it applies to a fire. If your house is on fire, there is no morally right or wrong action, but the _tactically_ right action is to put the fire out. With institutions that increase their wealth by lending at interest, the tactically right action is to not borrow money from them, or to borrow and not repay. If enough of us did this, the fire would go out: lending would exist only as a charity, and there would be one fewer mechanism for positive feedback in power-over. I think positive feedback in power-over is _the_ problem in human society. If the ability to make people do what they would prefer not to do, is leveraged into maintaining or increasing the ability to make people do what they would prefer not to do, life gets worse for everyone, even the rich, who are spiritually crippled by their insulation.

next archive

question: What does the text say about equality?

answer: The text is diary-like writing, talking about many different things. However, there are many parts where the author's pontifications touch on equality. He mentions how The Dark Night Rises is a movie about the perception of extreme inequality in America. He calls it elitist propaganda because it portrays the uprising as incomprehensible chaos as if its motivations can't come from intelligent thought. Furthermore, a study about macaques is mentioned where general scarcity of food causes aggressive behavior while abundant but extremely unequal food distribution causes a lot more aggression. Another point the author makes about equality is about mortgages acting as a transfer of wealth from the general populace to the banks, exacerbated by banks buying foreclosed homes and selling them at much higher prices - which requires more lending.

question: What does the text say about living hand-to-mouth?

answer: The author mentions the marshmallow study where some kids are able to delay gratification and get rewarded for it. A newer version of the study primes the kids either for unreliable or reliable environments before the test, and priming for reliability resulted in those kids holding out four times as longer than kids primed for unreliability. The author says that if a catastrophe happened, the type of people who don't wait to take the reward (i.e. poorer people for the most part) would fare better. The movie, The Dark Night Rises, is criticized as elitist propaganda because it portrays a massive uprising as incomprehensible - as if people barely managing to survive can't have intelligent reasons to riot. Another entry thematically linked is a study about macaques, where they get a lot more aggressive when an abundant amount of food's distribution is controlled by a few members compared to all of them suffering a lack of food. Of course, any lack of food results in more aggression, but it's not even close to the degree where the macaque population is forced to bare subsistence by a few dominant members.

question: What does the text say about freedom and servility?

answer: The author talks about the work experiences of food service workers and sex workers. One woman says that she feels the urge to cry after a day of feeling invisible and being dehumanized at work doing food service. She says that as a sex worker she's free to reject customers, isn't required to be polite when they aren't, doing only what she's comfortable doing. The author connects this difference in freedom to a service worker's inability to offer the same service by breaking free from a restaurant, unlike a sex worker who can still do her job independently. Another somewhat related entry concerns getting rich. The author posits that as one gets richer, they tend to buy more control over their life and maybe others. It's this control that ultimately fuels the desire to get rich, and why it's never satisfying is because the sphere of influence always gets larger. Finally, the author mentions being free to waste resources in limited circumstances like throwing away lots of paper while learning to draw. In essence, this removes a constraint so that a person can focus on the task of learning to draw.

question: Summarize the author's opinions about free trade.


split: test

text:
CHEYENNE COUNTY is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 9,998.[1] Its county seat is Sidney.[2] The county was formed in 1871[3] and named for the Cheyenne Native American tribe.

In the Nebraska license plate system, Cheyenne County is represented by the prefix 39 as it had the 39th-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established in 1922.

Geography

Cheyenne County lies on the south side of Nebraska. Its south boundary line abuts with the north boundary line of the state of Colorado. According to the US Census Bureau, the county has an area of , of which is land and (0.01%) is water.[4]

Major highways

-   [] Interstate 80
-   [] U.S. Highway 30
-   [] U.S. Highway 385
-   [] Nebraska Highway 19

Adjacent counties

-   Morrill County - north
-   Garden County - northeast
-   Deuel County - east
-   Sedgwick County, Colorado - southeast
-   Logan County, Colorado - south
-   Kimball County - west
-   Banner County - northwest

Demographics

As of the 2000 United States Census,[5] there were 9,830 people, 4,071 households, and 2,686 families in the county. The population density was 8 people per square mile (3/km²). There were 4,569 housing units at an average density of 4 per square mile (1/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 96.34% White, 0.14% Black or African American, 0.65% Native American, 0.40% Asian, 0.03% Pacific Islander, 1.46% from other races, and 0.98% from two or more races. 4.46% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race. 45.3% were of German, 9.1% English, 7.6% Irish and 7.5% American.

There were 4,071 households, out of which 31.10% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 54.80% were married couples living together, 8.00% had a female householder with no husband present, and 34.00% were non-families. 30.10% of all households were made up of individuals, and 13.30% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.38 and the average family size was 2.96.

The county population contained 26.30% under the age of 18, 7.00% from 18 to 24, 26.70% from 25 to 44, 22.80% from 45 to 64, and 17.20% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 39 years. For every 100 females there were 96.00 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 92.20 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $33,438, and the median income for a family was $41,024. Males had a median income of $30,000 versus $20,467 for females. The per capita income for the county was $17,437. About 8.20% of families and 10.00% of the population were below the poverty line, including 11.80% of those under age 18 and 7.40% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

City

-   Sidney (county seat)

Villages

-   Dalton
-   Gurley
-   Lodgepole
-   Potter

Census-designated places

-   Lorenzo
-   Sunol

Unincorporated communities

-   Brownson[6]
-   Colton[7]

Politics

Cheyenne County voters are reliably Republican. In no national election since 1936 has the county selected the Democratic Party candidate, and only four total since 1900.

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third Parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |77.8% _3,665_   style=“text-align:center;” |15.1% _711_     7.1% _335_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |74.2% _3,449_   style=“text-align:center;” |23.3% _1,084_   2.5% _116_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |73.8% _3,572_   style=“text-align:center;” |24.2% _1,173_   1.9% _94_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |79.9% _3,791_   style=“text-align:center;” |18.8% _893_     1.3% _62_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |76.6% _3,207_   style=“text-align:center;” |20.2% _844_     3.2% _135_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |64.8% _2,571_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.7% _1,059_   8.5% _336_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |51.8% _2,197_   style=“text-align:center;” |22.8% _967_     25.4% _1,077_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |67.8% _2,862_   style=“text-align:center;” |31.6% _1,333_   0.7% _28_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |77.7% _3,159_   style=“text-align:center;” |21.1% _857_     1.2% _48_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |74.8% _3,073_   style=“text-align:center;” |18.9% _776_     6.3% _259_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |56.4% _2,285_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.1% _1,665_   2.5% _102_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |76.7% _3,120_   style=“text-align:center;” |23.3% _950_     style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |66.0% _2,725_   style=“text-align:center;” |24.0% _993_     10.0% _414_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |53.8% _3,129_   style=“text-align:center;” |46.2% _2,689_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |59.7% _3,814_   style=“text-align:center;” |40.4% _2,580_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |63.6% _3,809_   style=“text-align:center;” |36.4% _2,182_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |65.5% _4,206_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.5% _2,217_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |50.3% _2,161_   style=“text-align:center;” |49.7% _2,139_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |60.2% _2,654_   style=“text-align:center;” |39.8% _1,752_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |55.2% _2,394_   style=“text-align:center;” |44.8% _1,943_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |30.9% _1,374_   style=“text-align:center;” |66.4% _2,950_   2.7% _118_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |28.8% _1,285_   style=“text-align:center;” |68.7% _3,068_   2.5% _112_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |62.3% _2,618_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.2% _1,563_   0.5% _22_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |51.8% _1,719_   style=“text-align:center;” |16.7% _555_     31.5% _1,047_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |71.9% _1,857_   style=“text-align:center;” |23.4% _604_     4.7% _121_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |38.2% _563_     style=“text-align:center;” |56.6% _834_     5.2% _76_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |24.3% _233_     style=“text-align:center;” |36.3% _348_     39.5% _379_[9]
  style=“text-align:center;” |1908   style=“text-align:center;” |50.3% _886_     style=“text-align:center;” |46.0% _809_     3.7% _65_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1904   style=“text-align:center;” |65.9% _681_     style=“text-align:center;” |25.9% _267_     8.2% _85_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1900   style=“text-align:center;” |57.0% _714_     style=“text-align:center;” |40.6% _509_     2.4% _30_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION RESULTS[8]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6] [https://www.google.com/maps/place/Brownson,+NE+69162/@41.1874819,-103.1217372,15z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m13!1m7!3m6!1s0x87704de62617f9c5:0x663a080e16d98402!2sCheyenne+County,+NE!3b1!8m2!3d41.2509264!4d-103.0817903!3m4!1s0x87704b3d84ddad97:0x7bcaa23cf8525e1a!8m2!3d41.1874392!4d-103.1130409 _Brownson NE_ Google Maps (accessed 17 January 2019)]

[7] [https://www.google.com/maps/place/Colton,+NE+69162/@41.1533174,-102.8658973,15z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m13!1m7!3m6!1s0x87704de62617f9c5:0x663a080e16d98402!2sCheyenne+County,+NE!3b1!8m2!3d41.2509264!4d-103.0817903!3m4!1s0x8771ababfdc2110b:0x116ff2c1ad5de1e3!8m2!3d41.1533253!4d-102.8571796 _Colton NE_ Google Maps (accessed 17 January 2019)]

[8] http://uselectionatlas.org/RESULTS

[9] The leading “other” candidate, Progressive Theodore Roosevelt, received 281 votes, while Socialist candidate Eugene Debs received 78 votes and Prohibition Eugene Chafin received 20 votes.

title: Cheyenne County, Nebraska

question: What does the article say about Cheyenne County, Nebraska?

answer: Cheyenne County is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. Cheyenne County lies on the south side of Nebraska. The county was formed in 1871 and named for the Cheyenne Native American tribe. Its county seat is Sidney. As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 9,998. There were 9,830 people, 4,071 households, and 2,686 families in the county.

question: What does the article say about the household structure in Cheyenne County?

answer: As of the 2000 United States Census, there were 9,830 people, 4,071 households, and 2,686 families in the county. 31.10% of households had children under the age of 18 living with them, 54.80% were married couples living together, 8.00% had a female householder with no husband present, and 34.00% were non-families. 30.10% of all households were made up of individuals, and 13.30% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.38 and the average family size was 2.96.

question: What does the article say about the living standard in Cheyenne County?

answer: The median income for a household in the county was $33,438, and the median income for a family was $41,024. The per capita income for the county was $17,437. About 8.20% of families and 10.00% of the population were below the poverty line.

question: What does the article say about the population of Cheyenne County?

answer: As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 9,998. The population density was 8 people per square mile. The racial makeup of the county was 96.34% White, 0.14% Black or African American, 0.65% Native American, 0.40% Asian, 0.03% Pacific Islander, 1.46% from other races, and 0.98% from two or more races. 4.46% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race. The median age was 39 years. For every 100 females, there were 96.00 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 92.20 males.

question: What does the article say about schools in Cheyenne County?


text:
Pedicab driving is a job for shisters. That much became clear to Rocks Off after just a 10-minute conversation with a driver. And during our two-hour ride along with Houston bike cabs working the Taylor Swift concert and downtown's hotspots, a certain phrase kept playing in our head: Rick Ross' "Every Day I'm Hustlin'". The story idea came to us last week at the Jimmy Buffett concert when we ran into two separate pedicab companies taking drunken Parrotheads back to their cars after the show. One driver, David, told us he often works the Gay Pride Parade in the Montrose. Another driver, David, said he rents his cab for $90 and can take home all the tips he makes. He expected to make about $250 on the night of the Buffett show. We thought it might be fun to look at a night in the life of a pedicab driver in such a pedestrian-averse, bike-unfriendly, car-loving city like the Petro Metro. Little did we know what we were getting into. David, the driver at the Buffett show, made such a good impression on us with his politeness that we decided to call the company he works for, Space City Bike Cab. Within moments of explaining to company owner Travis Stowers our idea for the story, we were assailed with complaints about the bike-cab business in Houston. "I own 44 pedicabs," he said. "We _invented_ pedicabs in Houston." Indeed, Space City Bike Cab's Web site says they own the largest fleet of state-of-the-art 21-speed bike cabs in Houston. But Stowers didn't want to talk for long. Instead, he directed me to Nate Lubke, his business partner, who continued the complaints about other bike cab businesses operating downtown. Among Lubke's chief complaints: Drivers who operate unsafe vehicles, drivers who are thugs, those who take advantage of intoxicated passengers to increase their nightly wages, and unsafe drivers, including one dropped and dragged a lady by her face and still had the nerve to charge her fare. Lubke's complaints are scary, but they aren't as bad as other pedicab horror stories from across the country. Last summer in Brooklyn, four people were hurt in a bike cab crash, and in Seattle in 2008 a 60-year-old pedicab passenger died when the bike collided with a van. In 2007, a pedicab driver in California was charged with felony drunken driving after an accident that injured another pedicab driver and four passengers. Nothing that dramatic has happened in Houston. Not yet, Lubke says, but it will. SEXUAL GODS ON WHEELS Rocks Off was to meet with Lubke and some other drivers outside House of Blues Tuesday night at 6 p.m. When we arrived, we flagged down a driver on a bike cab with House of Blues ads on the back -- Space City Bike Cab has an exclusive advertising contract with the restaurant and music venue. We asked for Nate, and the driver, who had a tattoo sleeve down his right arm, offered to give Rocks Off a ride to find him. Only after we were in the cab did we realize the cyclist was an amputee. His left leg, working as deftly on the pedals as the right, was a steel prosthesis, the top half of which was covered in designs not unlike his arm tattoos. As we rounded the corner we met up with Lubke, and Rocks Off switched cabs. Lubke is 40 years old and cocky, with buzzed, greying hair, a football player's build and a mouth that never stops. He offered to give us a sunset tour of downtown while explaining the history of pedicabs in Houston. "We started the business here in Houston, my roommate and I," he said. Lubke moved to Texas in 2003 from San Diego, where he had worked as a bike cab driver for six years. "I was a waiter," he said, "and I took a pedicab, and the driver had a flip-flop tan. I said 'You must be doing pretty good if you've got a flip-flop tan.'" The driver told Lubke he made more than enough money in tips to live on, and after that Lubke was sold. "In San Diego, we were like gods. You had all these mid- to late-20s guys running around town on bikes, picking up chicks from bars. My first night, I took home two chicks." His boss in California landed an advertisement deal with Bud Light for the 2004 Super Bowl, and sent a delegation of pedicab drivers to Houston to serve Reliant Stadium. But the glory of the job didn't carry over into Texas. "We called it Survivor Houston. We had nine guys that came here from San Diego. Every week one guy would say 'Fuck this, I'm going home.' It was just a whole different animal." I FOUGHT THE LAW"I'm just real soured right now," Lubke told Rocks Off. "I've been fighting with the fucking city because it was the city who invited us out for the Super Bowl." The majority of Lubke's criticisms have to do with his competition and the fact that the pedicab industry, if one can call it that, is completely unregulated by the City of Houston. Pedicabs skirt the city's taxi ordinance because the drivers don't charge a fare and they bikes don't have motors. "The city won't regulate anything because they don't want to be liable." Owner Travis Stowers echoes that sentiment. "Most companies don't even have insurance," Stowers said. "I keep a $20,000 insurance policy." Lubke said some of the other companies' practices make all bike cabbers look bad. Stowers said that if the city doesn't make gains to officiate the business, he'll likely be leaving Houston for a city that does. Space City Bike Cab has a sister operation in Arlington called Lone Star Bike Cab. After the new Cowboys Stadium was opened about a year ago, bike cabs descended on the arena to help stadium-goers avoid the outrageous parking fees, some as high as $75. Within a few months, the city had moved to create regulations for the pedicabs. Those regulations require all pedicabs to have lights, proof of insurance, helmets and seat belts, inspection certifications and slow moving vehicle signs on the back of the bench. They also regulate the types of pedicabs allowed. Trailers that attached to regular bikes are prohibited. Space City Bike Cab and Lone Star Bike Cab's bikes are all one extended frame, sort of like an Xtracycle. Arlington also put a limit on how many bike cabs can service the stadium. They made available 40 total permits to operate bike cabs. Lone Star has 10 of them. EVERY DAY I'M HUSTLIN' On the phone, Rocks Off asked Lubke how an average passenger could tell that his company was more legit than any other group riding bike cabs in Houston. In person, the answer seems clear. All of Space City's bike cabs look the same -- blue with a blue House of Blues ad on the back. The drivers all wear the same navy T-shirt with Lone Star's logo on the back. The cabs also all have the same sign explaining that fares are free -- the driver work for tips and tips only, an important detail. "If you look nicer you'll make more money," Lubke says. Then he points to a cyclist for another company. "These guys in the yellow bikes and yellow shirts, they're trying to look more cohesive." Those identical bike cabs and matching t-shirts had to be funded somehow, and one thing Rocks Off notices as we pass other bike cabbers is that almost no one but Lubke's people have advertisements on their bikes. The House of Blues deal is sweet, but not the sweetest one they've ever scored. When the Super Bowl came to San Diego in 2003, Coca-Cola paid the pedicab company Lubke worked for $40,000 to put ads on four bikes, he said. The Bud Light deal that helped bring the company to Houston was pretty good too. And Lubke likes to talk about all the famous people who've ridden in his cabs: Doug Flutie and Snoop Dogg, who Lubke says didn't tip at all. "I drove Brett Favre's parents around during the Super Bowl," he said. Suddenly Lubke interrupts himself to point to a pedicab in front of us carrying some young girls to the Toyota Center, where Taylor Swift is about to perform. The bike is pulling a trailer-style cab with a bench made out of exposed plywood. There are no reflectors, no lights, no horn -- no safety features at all. "Look at this -- you think you can see that trailer at night? If your daughter falls out of that trailer and gets hit by a car, you think that guy's gonna stick around while you call the cops?" Many drivers build trailer-style cabs in their garages, using who knows what kind of safety standards. Lubke said the less ethical owners don't even keep the bikes maintained, and require the drivers to bring their own lights and other equipment. He poses the question -- if you're renting a pedicab to drive, what is the rent going towards? Pedicab rental works on a confusing scale. At Space City, Lubke charges his drivers a percentage based on the average tips collected that night. This method requires his drivers to report their tips to him, which means, of course, they're going to lowball the number to keep the rent low and the take-home higher. If a nightly average is $200 in tips, then Lubke would charge $60 for the rental, giving the driver $140 in his pocket. Several times throughout the night, employees of Lubke would pull up to him to complain about how slow it had been. Outside the House of Blues, two drivers -- one who was working his very first shift -- were talking about the lack of tips. Within a few minutes, they both got riders. "What are the odds of that," he asks sarcastically. It seems to be a hobby of Lubke's to bitch about his employees. He alternates between calling them thugs and slackers. "Don't tell me it's slow out here," he tells us. "You're in a fuckin' rickshaw. You know what little girls like more than anything? Getting pedaled to a concert. Maybe the only thing they like more is getting their nails done." He doesn't like for his drivers to smoke while their on the bikes, and he wants them to look clean-cut, approachable. He tries to make sure they follow all the traffic rules too, though some guys will shortcut by riding on the sidewalk or going half a block the wrong way down a one-way street. "I give a lot of people chances," he said. During the summer, a lot of foreign students staying in Houston come to work for him. And he hears, through his employees, about the exploits of other drivers. One, he tells me, is a registered sex offender. Another packs heat while he's working. "You're pedaling a rickshaw in an entertainment district. Why do you need a gun?" Lubke thinks he has an answer. He tells me about an employee he fired because the man kept showing up without his uniform. "They say 'fuck you, I don't wanna work for you anymore.' So he goes and buys a trailer for $200 bucks and now he has no rules." We pull into a pay parking lot where a quartet of bike cabs are waiting to offer rides to the Toyota Center. Sure enough, Lubke is right about the drivers' looks. We watch as five girls all cram themselves into a Space City cab that normally seats three, instead of splitting up and riding in one of the rickety-looking trailer-cabs. Lubke believes that a low overhead leads other drivers to resort to shady business deals in order to supplement their tips. If a driver looks like a thug and their bike looks unsafe, they're obviously not going to get very many passengers. Lubke says some drivers threaten passengers for higher tips, take advantage of drunk passengers by charging a fare in addition to a tip, and sell drugs on the side. One business manager for another company tries to sabotage every ad deal Space City gets by sending anonymous letters to the advertisers. One of Lubke's drivers used to work for a rival company. Last week, he was riding his own bike home to the Third Ward, and he was attacked by a man carrying a cane, who broke his jaw. The driver told Rocks Off the attacker was another pedicab company's driver. Lubke rattles off a list of names of drivers who've been arrested for various offenses, some of them happened while the guys were on the job. Lubke says he's friends with the cops and that is how he knows. ALL FOR ONE AND ONE FOR ALL? Lubke and Stowers are worried about The Woodlands. The Jimmy Buffett concert was their third event there, and the competition has gotten wind of it. The Woodlands Board asked Space City Bike Cabs to work events in the Town Center so people wouldn't park at the mall. And Space City has other service deals that are exclusive - the Nutcracker Market, Texans games and a few he asked us not to mention in print. "We make so much money that during the week we give the bikes out for free so the guys can supplement their income." The Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo is a different story. "One-third of all of Houston goes to the Rodeo," Lubke said, "So I figured if people have a good experience with us there, they'll ride with us again. Losing the Rodeo, for my company, is huge." A few years after Space City started working the Rodeo, their competitors started moving in on the event too. When the shifty characters and derelict bikes appeared, the Rodeo lumped the whole flock, including Space City, together. "The Rodeo wanted no bikes. They said, "Fuck it." I can't afford for people not to have a positive experience, or the business will fail." Lubke says the NFL doesn't even want pedicabs at the Super Bowl anymore. Which is why he's gone to the Houston City Council to try to get some regulations, like those in Arlington, in place to protect what he sees as legitimate pedicab businesses. His two main requests are that the City put an insurance policy in place and put a vehicle type in place, effectively banning those home-built trailers. And Lubke is also trying to appeal to the other bike cab companies. He says it's the only way pedicabs will survive in the town that loves to drive. It's worked in other cities. Austin, for example, has a pedicab alliance, and like Arlington, there is a city code regulating their practices. "If these guys just cleaned up their image and we all worked as a group, this thing would all work out," he said.

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question: What are the income channels of pedicabs and pedicab companies?

answer: In general, the pedicabs don't charge a fare and work for tips, unless the driver charges for it against company regulations. Lubke's company makes a lot of money on nights with concerts, sports events, etc. Those nights may also bring additional income through sponsorship deals.

question: What are Lubke's problems with operating a pedicab company?

answer: Lubke's concerns fall into three categories: lack of regulations, rival companies, and his employees. The lack of regulations results in a lot of unscrupulous drivers, unsafe pedicabs tarnishing the reputation of the industry, and large venues forbidding pedicabs altogether. These problems overlap with pedicab companies other than Lubke's operating in unsavory ways. There is a company that tries to sabotage the advertising deals Lubke makes. Finally, Lubke's own drivers often under-report the tips they receive so that they pay less to Lubke and keep more to themselves since he charges a percentage of the tips the drivers earn. Sometimes, the drivers refuse to wear uniforms, and some of them are ex-criminals.

question: What are the measures Lubke takes to differentiate his company from others?

answer: Lubke wants to operate a legitimate and trustworthy business. He wants his drivers to look presentable, wearing the same uniforms, driving the same vehicles. The uniform and presentable outlook are to avoid scaring potential customers. He has exclusivity deals with some venues, carries sponsorships, and tries to get pedicabs regulated for quality of service and safety. Also, his drivers work for tips only, no fares.

question: What are the implications of pedicabs on regular taxis?


text:
HONEY TOAST (Japanese:ハニートースト), also known as SHIBUYA TOAST,[1] BRICK TOAST, and HANITO is a Japanese dessert that originated from the district of Shibuya during the Japanese asset price bubble, often served at karaoke bars.[2] It is also popular in other parts of the world, most prominently Taiwan and Singapore.[3][4][5] [Different variants of honey toast being displayed at a karaoke bar in Shinjuku]

Preparation

The main component of honey toast is bread, preferably pain de mie. The bread is hollowed out and then cut into small cubes. The cubes and the loaf shell are then caramelized, by brushing them with a butter and honey mixture and placing them into the oven until golden. While layering the baked cubes back into the loaf, it is filled with what one may desire, most commonly macerated fruits, toasted nuts, various flavors of syrup or whipped cream. As a finishing touch, the toast is topped with ice cream.[6][7] The Taiwanese version of the dish however is more subdued, usually only topped with condensed milk, custard or cheese.[8]

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title: Honey toast

question: What is Honey Toast?

answer: A Japanese desert also known as Shibuya Toast from the Shibuya district in Japan. It consist of bread, a honey and butter glaze and carious toppings.

question: Are there regional variations?

answer: Yes. The Taiwanese version is more subdued, for example.

question: What are the most common toppings?

answer: Macerated fruit, toasted nuts and various flavours of syrup, usually topped with whipped cream.

question: How do you make it?

answer: Hollowing out a bread loaf (pain be mie), brushing the hollowed out cubes with the butter/honey mixture, once baked in the oven they are then put back into the shell of the loaf and filled with the various toppings.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Information about Shibuya Honey Toast, a dessert native to the Japanese district of Shibuya.


text:
CAROLINE TOLBERT is an American political scientist. She is a professor of political science at the University of Iowa. She studies elections, voting, and civic engagement in American politics. Much of her work deals with peoples' capacity to use internet technology, digital technology policy, and the relationship between technology use and social participation.

Early work and education

Tolbert attended the University of California, Santa Barbara, graduating with a BA in political science in 1989.[1] She then received an MA in public policy from the University of Colorado, Boulder in 1991,[2] followed by a PhD in political science from the same institution in 1996.[3]

From 1996 to 1997, Tolbert was an information technology specialist at Colorado College, and then joined the political science faculty at Kent State University in 1997.[4] In 2006 she moved to the University of Iowa.[5]

Career

Tolbert has been a coauthor of 8 books.[6] In 2013 she coauthored the book _Digital Cities: The Internet and the Geography of Opportunity_ with Karen Mossberger and William W. Franko. The book develops a notion of “digital citizenship”, which captures the extent to which individuals are capable of regularly and effectively using technology related to the internet.[7] The authors focus on inequality in peoples' capacities to use internet technologies; Zachary Spicer, in a review of the book, wrote that they demonstrate that “America is falling short in these areas and, as a result, information inequities are developing that could have deep and lasting impacts on the social fabric of the country.”[8] The book also presents policy suggestions for making digital citizenship more equal.[9]

Tolbert became a coauthor of the American politics textbook _We the people: An introduction to American politics_ when the book was in its ninth edition in 2012.[10][11] This textbook, which she coauthored with Benjamin Ginsberg, Theodore J. Lowi, Margaret Weir, and (in later editions) Andrea L. Campbell, had been published in 12 editions by 2020.[12]

Tolbert has also published dozens of articles in political science and public policy journals.[13][14] Her 2006 article with Karen Mossberger, “The Effects of E-Government on Trust and Confidence in Government”, was published in The _Public Administration Review_, and was subsequently named by the journal as one of the 75 most influential articles ever published there since the journal's founding in 1940.[15]

Tolbert was the solo recipient of the 2009-2011 Collegiate Scholar Award at the University of Iowa, which recognizes “mid-career faculty for exceptional achievement”.[16]

A 2019 citation analysis by the political scientists Hannah June Kim and Bernard Grofman listed Tolbert as one of the most cited political scientists working at an American university in 2 different categories: the top 40 most cited women scholars, and the top 25 most cited political scientists who earned their PhD between 1995 and 1999 (inclusive).[17]

Tolbert's work has been cited in news outlets like _The New York Times_,[18] _Vox_,[19] and _The Wall Street Journal_,[20] particularly her work relating to the sequence of United States presidential primary election contests and her 2010 book '' Why Iowa? How Caucuses and Sequential Elections Improve the Presidential Nominating Process''.

Selected works

-   “The Effects of E-Government on Trust and Confidence in Government”, _Public Administration Review_ (2006)
-   _We the people: An introduction to American politics_ (from 9th edition, 2012 onwards)
-   _Digital Cities: The Internet and the Geography of Opportunity_ (2013)

Selected awards

-   Collegiate Scholar Award, University of Iowa (2009)[21]

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title: Caroline Tolbert

question: What does the text say about the qualities that make a good science professor?

question: What does the text say about Caroline Tolbert?

answer: Caroline Tolbert is an American political scientist and professor of political science at the University of Iowa since 2006. She studies civic engagement, elections, and voting in American politics. Her work deals with the relationship between technology use and social participation. She also studies people's capacity to use digital technology policy and internet technology. Tolbert got her BA in political science from the University of California, Santa Barbara, in 1989. She received an MA in public policy in 1991 and her Ph.D. in political science in 1996 from the University of Colorado, Boulder. After college (1996 - 1997), she started out as an information technology specialist at Colorado College before joining the political science faculty at Kent State University in 1997.

question: Summarize Tolbert's writing career.

answer: Tolbert has been a co-author of 8 books. She co-authored the book "Digital Cities: The Internet and the Geography of opportunity" in 2013. In 2012, she co-authored the American politics textbook "We the People: An Introduction to American Politics". Tolbert has published dozens of articles in political science and public policy journals. Her 2006 article with Karen Mossberger "The Effects of E-Government on Trust and Confidence in Government" was published in the Public Administration Review and was named by the journal as one of the 75 most influential articles ever published since the journal's founding in 1940. Tolbert is listed as one of the most cited political scientists working at an American university in two different categories. Her work has been cited by news outlets like The New York Times, Vox, and The Wall Street Journal.


text:
City councillors and members of the Greektown on the Danforth BIA dined at Mezes Restaurant on Danforth Avenue Wednesday to show their support for the community - following the mass shooting that killed two and injured 13 others on Sunday.

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A group of city councillors dine at Mezes Restaurant on the Danforth Wednesday, just days after a mass shooting that claimed two lives. (Joe Mihevc/Twitter)

Members of Toronto city council and Mayor John Tory took an extended lunch break from a council meeting Wednesday to dine at Mezes Restaurant on the Danforth — to show their support for a community recovering from a deadly mass shooting.

Coun Mary Fragedakis, who represents Ward 29, Toronto-Danforth, helped organize the event at the eatery, which is located at 456 Danforth Avenue, along with Coun. Paula Fletcher, who represents the neighbouring Ward 30, also in Toronto-Danforth.

"We have to pick up the pieces and somehow carry on," Fragedakis told CBC Toronto.

"We want to let others in the city know that from all the parts of this city people are thinking about the people who live and work in the Danforth area and that they support them."

Two people died in the shooting on Sunday — Reese Fallon, 18, a former student at Malvern Collegiate, and 10-year-old Julianna Kozis of Markham. Thirteen others were injured. The gunman, 29-year-old Faisal Hussain, died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound after a shootout with police.

-   Faisal Hussain, gunman in Danforth shooting rampage, killed himself: police source

-   Danforth love notes connect residents after deadly mass shooting

-   'No evidence' Danforth shooter Faisal Hussain connected to ISIS, Toronto police say

About 20 councillors were expected to attend the lunch, Fragedakis said.

The Mezes Restaurant was chosen because it is very close to Logan and Danforth avenues and near the Alexander the Great Parkette where people are paying tribute to the 15 shooting victims with a makeshift memorial.

"I thought councillors could stop by the parkette and see the growing tribute — people leaving candles,flowers, and signs expressing their sadness their grief," said Fragedakis.

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People leave flowers at a memorial honouring the victims of the mass shooting on Toronto's Danforth Avenue close to where Toronto city councillors dined to show support for the community. (Mark Blinch/Canadian Press)

"And also there was a waiter in that restaurant who was shot in the arm. The owner of Mezes told me she feels he probably saved another staff person's life because he was basically standing in from of [the gunman]."

Fragedakis called local businesses on the Danforth Tuesday to provide the names of grief counsellors who are offering their services pro bono to staff who work in the establishments.

"I spoke to the owners of Caffe Demetre and Mezes because they both had their places shot up and unfortunately the two fatalities were at Caffe Demetre; their staff are quite traumatized."

'An important symbolic gesture'

She said the city is also providing support services in several languages, including Greek and Chinese.

"Someone is distributing information about where people can go to get help from a crisis team here at the city," she said.

"It is important that as leaders in the city we go to a site of a tragedy and reflect on what's happened and at the same time show our support."

[]

Councillors Mary Fragedakis, left, and Paula Fletcher organized the luncheon at Mezes Restaurant on Wednesday. (CBC)

Members of the Greektown on the Danforth BIA also attended the luncheon. Howard Lichtman is a spokesperson for the BIA and is one of the organizers of Taste of the Danforth.

"It an important symbolic gesture for everyone in the city to see that the leaders they voted in are saying the right thing to do is to support the community by coming down and being here," Lichtman said.

'It doesn't define Toronto'

Lichtman is encouraged by the amount of people he has seen on the Danforth since the shooting.

"It's important that that continue, that everybody shows the community that a single act of violence and senseless murder doesn't define Greektown, it doesn't define the Danforth, and it doesn't define Toronto".

Fragedakis agrees,

"People are grieving ... Obviously there is some anger, but people have been really good," she said.

"Many have come out to the Danforth to show their support. This is a place many people go to eat dinner with their families, to stroll, have a drink, have some dessert."

But she admits she is still having a hard time processing what happened.

[]

The festival will mark its 25th anniversary this August, just weeks after a deadly shooting rocked the Danforth neighbourhood. (Taste of the Danforth)

"I am heartbroken. I saw the picture of the little girl who died ... and found out more details about the young woman who graduated from Malvern who was killed. I am pretty devastated. We are going to try to recover, but there will always be the memory of this and the people who died".

"Will we do something, absolutely.  What we are going to do, that's to figure out next week," he said.

"First, we have to appropriately make sure that people have the opportunity to express the sorrow they're truly feeling for people's lives that were lost."

question: Who is Mary Fragedakis?

answer: Mary Fragedakis is a councilor that represents Ward 29 of Toronto-Danfforth. She helped organize an event at Mezes Restaurant on Danforth Avenue after a deadly mass shooting occurred there.

question: Who is Faisal Hussain?

answer: Faisal Hussain was the 29-year-old gunman that killed two and injured 13 others before killing himself on Danforth Avenue in Toronto.


text:
September 05, 2007

[]
_Photo by Mary R. Vogt, courtesy of MorgueFile_
If you’re a regular reader, you might have noticed that I often post photos of people on my blog. People exploring a garden. People enjoying a festival. People just doing what people do when they’re out in public. I generally don’t ask permission before taking a candid photo, only for posed shots. I also regularly post photos of other people’s gardens (on tours, usually), though in that case I do ask permission first if I’m on their property, but not if I’m shooting from the sidewalk or street.
Lately I’ve noticed some bloggers saying they are reluctant to use photos of people or even other people’s houses and gardens because of legal or ethical concerns. The latest comment to that effect appeared on a post at A Study in Contrasts, regarding Kim’s and Chuck’s neighborhood photo tours. Firefly asks, “[D]o you need permission to photograph and publish pictures of your neighbors’ houses? . . . [I]f I saw a picture of my house on someone’s blog (especially with a comment about the garden) I’d be pretty unhappy if the person hadn’t let me know it was coming.”
This notion of house privacy surprised me. I’d given thought to the legality and ethicality of posting photos of people but not property. So I did a little investigating to see what I could learn. Here’s what I found out from a couple of online sources (for what they’re worth).
At About.com: PC World Computing Center (no longer available), a discussion titled “More on Your Photos and the Law” offers this:

  Photographing People in Public
  Q: Can I photograph people in public places without their permission?
  A: Absolutely. People get really muddled about this issue, but the reality is that you have a virtually unrestricted right to use a camera in public. One big caveat: It’s common courtesy to get verbal permission. Nonetheless, people don’t have the right to bar you from photographing them in public, where they would not ordinarily have an expectation of privacy.
  Q: Can I publish pictures of people I’ve photographed without permission?
  A: That depends upon the purpose of the picture. If it’s artistic or editorial in nature, or can be characterized as to inform or educate, then you do not need your subject’s explicit permission.
  If the picture or any associated text may be libelous, defamatory, or fall outside of what courts have described as “the normal sensibilities” of the target audience, then you may need permission from the subject for your own protection. You also need permission from the subject if the picture is used for commercial purposes, such as in an advertisement.

So flaming someone is a no-no, and potentially libelous, but posting a photo of someone in a public place or at a public event, so long as the intent is not mean-spirited or commercial, is OK.
From Oregon lawyer Bert P. Krages II comes an explanation of the photographer’s rights, which I found educational. Here’s a link to the .pdf file, in which he says:

  Members of the public have a very limited scope of privacy rights when they are in public places. Basically, anyone can be photographed without their consent except when they have secluded themselves in places where they have a reasonable expectation of privacy such as dressing rooms, restrooms, medical facilities, and inside their homes.

And as far as photographing houses goes, About.com: PC World Computing Center (link no longer available) says this:

  Most of the kinds of pictures you’re likely to want to take are within your constitutional right to do so. However, in some situations you’re not protected and can be held liable for damages. These, as you can see, are fairly obvious, common-sense situations and can easily be avoided:
  Photographing on private property. You may not enter or photograph on private property without the owner’s permission.
  Libel or slander. You can’t misrepresent facts through the use of a photograph or accompanying text.
  Use of the photograph in a commercial application. You need permission to photograph someone for an advertisement.

It sounds to me that if you take house or garden photos, without permission, from a public street or sidewalk, your actions are perfectly legal—though naturally your neighbor may come out to ask what you’re up to.
Making critical or disparaging comments online about identifiable gardens, houses, or people is another matter, of course. That feels unethical to me, and I know I would not want to be on the receiving end of a post like that. The key is intent, as I understand it. We all know when the intent of a post is mean-spirited, and even if the writer believes the subject will never read it, you just never know. The internet’s reach is very wide.
I think Kim and Chuck have both been excellent and kind-spirited reporters on their neighborhood walks, showing us photos of interesting, humorous, or unusual sights along the way. I hope my numerous posts of public gardens and spaces, including people photos, have been perceived in that same spirit, which has always been my intent.
Ethics discussions are useful to all bloggers, so I’m glad to have been spurred into learning more from the comments at A Study in Contrasts. Perhaps by knowing their rights and responsibilities as photographers, other bloggers will be emboldened to let people into their photos now and then, because I find that adds richness to garden photography. People bring a garden to life, give it scale, and show us how to be part of it.
Added 9/12/07: Check out Andrew Kantor’s column CyberSpeak (12/29/05) in _USA Today_ for more.
_NOTE: I AM NOT A LAWYER, AND NOTHING IN THIS POST SHOULD BE CONSTRUED AS LEGAL ADVICE._

question: What does the author say about photographing people in public places?

answer: The author states that the photographer has absolute right to photograph any member of the public without asking their permission, although it is common courtesy to do so. These pictures can be published anywhere, depending on their purpose: if they are educational there is no problem, but if there is anything personal in it permission may be necessary.


text:
The flickering lights highlight the ship’s icy hallway only once every few seconds. It’s probably better that way, considering that when it can be seen it’s quite a mess. Scattered with shell casings, strewn papers and stray sparks from exposed wires. Not to mention the occasional body or body part that lay in the way as Chad slowly steps through, careful not to trip over the many obstacles. He waits patiently for the lights to flicker again, so he can move freely with no worry of what’s in his way, and searching for another living soul. He tries to call out, but the cold has rendered his throat quite useless when it comes to shouting. Still he must make the attempt. “Hello!” He tries to scream. It sounded as if the word itself tore open his insides as he spewed it out. Chad places his hand on his throat and continues, content with a quiet search.

As he makes his way through more dead end areas of the ship, Chad begins to lose hope of finding any more lost survivors, until he hears a faint moaning coming from the Captain’s quarters. He stops and listens for a moment. The moans come again. Chad walks towards the open room and puts his back against the wall, creeping his head around the corner. Inside, lying on the bed in the left corner is Captain Roberts, half naked and freezing, blood trickling down his ears and mouth. His skin seems more like a thin pale sheet that’s stretched tightly over his bones, and his hair on his head is patchy, as if he’s been pulling it out. Chad brings himself back around and tilts his head back, rolling his eyes. He sighs and marches into the Captain’s room. “Sir.” He says as he walks up to him. The Captain’s hand is bleeding and balled up in a fist.

“Whosat?” Captain Roberts whispers, eyes rolling around in every direction.

“Lieutenant Chad Harper, sir.” The Captain blinks, almost in awe, and then chuckles to himself.

“Come here, Lieutenant.” Chad kneels down beside the Captain, whose fist reaches out for his hand. Chad cups the Captain’s fist as he releases the item he was clinging so hard to. Chad looks into his now bloody hand to see two brown-stained silver bars. “I’m giving you command, Lieutenant.” Now it’s Chad’s turn to chuckle, but he can’t stop there. Soon his scoffs become laughs, and then what seems to be a mix of crying and bellowing that echo through the empty corridors of the stone cold prison they’re trapped in.

“Command?” Chad replies, wiping tears from his eyes, “Command of what? There’s nobody here! It’s just us!”

“Jesus, kid.” Captain Roberts says, “Is that all you do is complain? Ever since we lost you’ve treated it like the Goddamn Crucifixion.” He turns his head and coughs a fair amount of blood onto the walls. Chad bows his head and traces the sign of the Cross on his body.

“May Christ have mercy on your soul for making such a joke.” He says, raising his head. The Captain looks at him and tries to sit up. Chad puts his hands on the Captain’s shoulders and gently presses him back down. “You need to rest, sir.” The Captain’s attempt took much more out of him than expected. He begins to breathe heavy, as if he’d just run a marathon. Chad picks up a chair that’s been lying on the floor and sits down next to the Captain.

“I know you’ve suffered, lad.” Captain Roberts says, “We all have. But that’s no excuse to just abandon all this.” His hands wave around the room flimsily. Chad looks around and sighs.

“All what, sir? We don’t have anything. Everyone is either dead or captured. We’re on the losing side of a war and I don’t even know what it is we’re fighting for!” Chad’s voice breaks away again as he begins to shout. “I didn’t even want to be in this! I was dragged! I left a wife and a daughter behind, risking my life for reasons I’m still not sure of.” The Captain remains silent. His eyelids are halfway shut. “Sir.” Chad begins, “I’m sorry, but I have to go. There’s just too much blood here. I’ve had enough of this senseless massacre.” He stands up and turns to walk out the door. The Captain sputters.

“You think you’ll find a decent place to stand in this massacre?” Chad stops, and turns back towards the Captain. “Well there isn’t one. Everybody’s involved, like it or not.

“Well then what do you suggest I do, sir?”

“Stand with me. Keep up the good fight. We’re on the losing side against heaven, kid. They’ve got the power, but we’ve got the people. We may have sticks and stones compared to their rockets and lasers, but we’ve got a lotta sticks and stones.” The Captain’s eyelids flutter as he coughs more blood onto his pillow.

“You’re standing days are done, sir.” Chad says, “I mean no disrespect in that. You’re dying, and I’m all that’s left. This is my chance to leave, and to find a place where I can be at peace. Maybe start a new family. Have a life in exchange for the one that was taken from me. Everyone will just assume the whole ship’s been taken.” Chad bows his head. “I hope you understand. I was never meant to do this.” Chad looks up at the Captain. His eyes are closed and there are no white clouds that escape his mouth, which hangs open like an old fool who has fallen asleep drunk in his recliner.

Chad leaves the Captain’s quarters and marches up the hallway and to a steel door that’s sealed shut. To the side rests a digital keypad. Chad inputs a code, and the doors swiftly slide open. “Welcome, Lieutenant Harper.” A deep male voice echoes as Chad steps through into the flight deck. Outside the window lies an endless black ocean filled with little sparkling stars, along with several other ships that have been destroyed. Their debris float slowly across Chad’s view. He walks up to the center of the flight deck, where a digital map is displayed on the table. He looks down to see that a rendezvous point has been highlighted two Astronomical Units away, on a dead planet orbiting a Red Dwarf. Four Astronomical Units away lies another, more appealing place to park; a fairly new planet that was recently discovered and inhabited 200 years prior, called Geisa. Chad closes the map and takes a seat in the Captain’s chair. “How much fuel do we have, Mark?”

“Enough, Lieutenant Harper.” Mark replies.

“That’s not an answer. How many AUs can we travel given the damage?”

“Roughly five, Lieutenant. Where would you have me direct us?” Chad sits in his chair, one hand wrapped around his face and sweating, despite the freezing temperature. In his other hand lays the Captain’s silver bars. He stares at them, a look of anger quickly growing on his face.

“You son of a bitch.” Chad whispers as he pins the medal to his uniform.

“What was that, Lieutenant?”

“It’s Captain, Mark. And take us to the damn rendezvous point.”

title: The Captain

question: Explain in 3-5 sentences why it might have been important for Captain Roberts to give Chad a "command" even though there was nobody there.

answer: It seems that because the captain is dying, he wants his last moments to be dignified. Another reason could be that he sees a lot of value in making the kid (Chad) understand the important of keeping the fight alive. Since it ends up being the case that Chad wanted to assume a higher role with more prestige, it's likely the captain knew to tap into this despite their having, as Chad put it perceptively, nothing left.

question: Summarize the setting of this passage.

answer: They are in some sort of a lock, maybe in a passageway or vestibule of a ship. They are likely at sea, and even likelier alone at sea. The setting is described as icy, so the temperature is low, and it seems like they've seen war, so there is likely damage preventing any heating mechanisms from functioning. It also seems likely that the area is littered with bodies as the Captain is injured and it seems a lot of death has occurred. Chad describes them as being the last left.

question: Summarize the objectives Chad describes to the Captain in contrast with what he seems to be going for in his exchange with Mark.

answer: Chad tells the dying Captain that he wants nothing to do with the ship's legacy. It seems that he doesn't want to have any association with whatever war or hardship they endured. He wants to move and change his name even. However, after the Captain dies, Chad immediately moves to assuming seniority that might even be newfound. He takes control over the ship, asking Mark questions, and insisting Mark address Chad as Captain-he has taken over the role of Captain Roberts.


text:
“THE GIRL WITH THE CAKE-DAY”
I feel nothing. No emotions occurring. No happiness. I took my hand out from under the sheets, as I let out a disappointed sigh. It was one of those nights where it was simply too hot to masturbate. It felt like I was melting with all the sweat I was producing. It was a shame it was too hot out to masturbate, because typically, there were three reasons why I did it. The first of which is pretty obvious, and that is, it felt great. That’s why everyone does it. To my knowledge, though, I’m the only one who does it for the second two reasons. The second reason: it made me sleepy. I’d always been pretty bad about my sleep, staying up far past the recommended bed time. Soon into my teen years, I learned that masturbating felt both great, and it made me tired, which is why I normally did it around bed time. The third, and most important reason, is because it makes me feel human. It makes me feel alive to do such a thing. To focus all of my energy, all of time on thoughts, memories, and women… Well, it made me more in-touch with myself, no pun intended.
So as I lay on my bed in the dead of the heat, I realize the alternative source to make me sleep, and to make me feel alive, though, not nearly as fun. I lifted my right hand off of my head, and raised it up. On the way, it touched the metal post of my bed. Cold. Lifeless. I suppose an analogy can be made there. I then flipped on my stomach, and waved my hand in front of my face. I thought of all the things that made me human, made me realize I was still a person. My past. The people I loved. My memories. I thought of all this, while moving my hand. It always led to me being aware of my own thoughts, and minute actions, to where I became self-aware. In this moment, I became euphoric. I stopped moving my hand as a whole, and instead wiggled each of my fingers, going further into this bizarre trance of memories. I wiggled my thumb.
It was the first part of my hand to touch the raft. It was a burning hot day out, but the pools made up for it. I heard the screams and laughter of children, as they raced around the pools, and grabbed the rafts for the numerous water slides. As I grabbed my own raft, I wondered to myself, why was I here? How did this come about to be? As I was deep in thought, a girl of unimaginable sincerity and beauty came before me. That’s when I remembered. The Girl with the Cake-Day. I still wasn’t sure what it meant, but she did. So, I went along with it. Getting a message from this beautiful woman, exclaiming it’s her cake-day, doesn’t happen too often. At first, I lied, only because in my mind, she was hot, and I wanted to fuck her. One thing led to another, and first thing I knew, I was at Waplehorst, with The Girl with the Cake-Day. I wiggled my thumb. There was the three of us, her and her friend, but for all I cared, it was just the two of us. The day progressed, and I found myself actually having fun. Normally in these situations, I stress at the idea of having to show-off for women, but The Girl with the Cake-Day was different. I found myself actually laughing around her. There were plenty of times when I could have made a move on her, but that would have spoiled all the fun we were having. I wiggled my thumb. When it was all over, and I had to leave, I walked with The Girl with the Cake-Day down her long driveway. She turned to me, and gave me one of the most awkward hugs I had ever received. She looked at me, and smiled. I smiled back. I stopped wiggling my thumb. I was surrounded by darkness, with the heat not letting up. I wiggled to my index finger.
I pointed up to the cool, night sky. “I just don’t see it!” I exclaimed. The Girl with the Cake-Day laughed, and gently pushed my arm into the direction of what she saw. A flash across the sky occurred. “Okay, I saw that one,” I said as she laughed, and moved closer to me. It was a beautiful Summer night, and the most beautiful of meteor showers was occurring. I wiggled my index finger. I had grown to like The Girl with the Cake-Day. I liked her so much, that we started to date. It was the happiest time of my life, up to that point in time. “You’re an idiot,” said a voice next to us. Along with us on this evening, was my best friend, The Boy with Glasses. I looked at him, laughed, and made a joke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and that made me happy. It made me happy to know that everyone enjoyed the company of The Girl with the Cake-Day. I wiggled my index finger. I finally had someone to brag about, and show off. That night ended like many other nights with her, and she kissed me goodnight. The exception was, I was with The Boy with Glasses, and being the friend I am, I drove him home. On the drive home, it occurred to me, that while I was having fun, my mother was dying. While that should have been the forefront of my thoughts, it was not. The Girl with the Cake-Day was. It was, oddly enough, a blissful time in my life. I stopped wiggling my index finger. My hand dropped, and hit me in the face. I still continued the process, this time moving on to my middle finger. I wiggled my middle finger.
I flicked off the screen, in blind rage. What was the happiest moment in my life, was reduced to one of the worst. On the screen, laid out in front of me, was the relationship status of The Girl with the Cake-Day, and The Boy with Glasses. I had never felt this way before. I had, of course, felt anger plenty of times. This was not just anger, though. This was something far worse. This was love. I, The Boy with the Same Name, fell in love. I wiggled my middle finger. I wondered to myself how such a thing could happen. I surely felt nothing. I had never felt. I tried to rationalize it. Perhaps I hated that I was betrayed by The Guy with Glasses. While that thought did sound correct, it was not the cause. I missed her smile, her laugh. I hated this feeling. I hated the fact that I loved The Girl with the Cake day. I wiggled my middle finger. I felt weak. I just wanted to give up, move on, and try again with someone else. I couldn’t, though. Feeling no real emotions, it’s easy for me to give up on something, and move on. But this wasn’t normal. As much as I wanted to, I could not. I wiggled my middle finger one last time. I stopped. Coated in sweat, I did feel slightly more tired. Nothing was going to break my concentration though, and I forged on, with my ring finger on the line now. I wiggled my ring finger.
It was freezing, along with all my other fingers. For some reason, though, my ring finger always got really cold. As cold as my hands were, I tried my hardest to pack in as much snow as possible, and formed it into a ball. Excited, she tried to dodge, but in the end, The Girl with the Cake-Day got hit square in the chest with a snowball. She did a playful scream, and I chased her, only to turn around, and run from her own snowball. I wiggled my ring finger. I had lost The Guy with Glasses. He hated me for taking The Girl with the Cake-Day away from him. I would too. I did. She was mine now. I knew this time, I loved her. I loved every minute of being with her. I could be myself, and she knew that. Still, I hid from The Girl with the Cake-Day. While she was the one who tapped into my emotions, it was still a foreign concept to me. To tell her how I felt about her. To tell her why I’m sad. To let her mend my problems. I wiggled my ring finger. Despite all that, life was good for The Girl with the Cake-Day and I. I dodged her snowball, then quickly turned around, and pushed her gently to the snowy ground. I was on top of her, and we were both panting. That’s when she locked eyes with me, and I said what I had never said to anyone but The Girl with the Cake-Day. “I love you, Alex.” She smiled at me, used all five of her fingers to pull my head down, and kissed me softly. “I love you too, Alex.” I wiggled my ring finger.
The heat took over in my room, and the memories of the snows from yesteryear faded away. The sun was coming up now, and the heat went up with it. I stop wiggling my ringer finger, and reflected on the memories I had with The Girl with the Cake-Day. I then reflected on the more recent memories of her, with The Boy with the Car, and then, with anger, I made a fist, with the pinky finger leading the charge. I squeezed as hard as I could. I hit the wall as hard as I could, surely waking up the guests in my house. I paused, then, a tear came rolling down my left check. I stopped wiggling my fingers, wiggling my hands, and in fact, stopped moving all together. I had accomplished part of what I set out to do tonight. I felt alive. I felt human. I let all the emotions I felt about The Girl with the Cake-Day run down my checks, and flow into streams of tears. I wasn’t tired, though. Not even close to it. Not yet.

title: The Girl with the Cake-Day

question: Who is The Girl with the Cake-Day?

answer: The Girl with the Cake-Day seems is a girl that the narrator was romantically involved with in the past. They dated for a while and shared many good memories, and they loved each other. However, The Girl with the Cake-Day ends up leaving the narrator for The Guy with Glasses.

question: What are the reasons why the narrator masturbates?

answer: The narrator masturbates because it feels good, it makes them sleepy, and it makes them feel alive.


text:
	Blood was all over her and she was crying... no she was

screaming. I was just standing over her, my body frozen. I tried to

move, but I couldn't. I tried to yell but all I heard was her

painful screaming. I kept thinking to my self, how could this be

happening to her. Who would do such a thing? Suddenly her body

seemed so relaxed, so silent, and so lifeless.

	The phone rang and I sat straight up in my bed, wondering

to my self, who is calling me and why. After the dream I had no

clue what I was doing when I answered the phone. It was a mistake

to answer the phone because I was trying to get the world to forget

I existed. My story started, perhaps ended, four years ago when I

shot and killed an innocent man. I had no reason at all to shoot

him except that fact he was running from me, but that is all I

remember. Not for one second did I remember pointing my gun at him

and shooting. Everyone said they saw me shoot him and then pass

out. The only thing I remember is lying on the ground and seeing a

dead man next to me. I must have shot him point blank because his

blood was all over my shirt. It was an accident; at least that is

what my friends told me. Some friends. I haven't been back to New

York since. I lost touch with my old life, but I started a new one

right here in Colorado. Big change, it truly was a big change since

I am out here in the middle of nowhere in a somewhat deserted

hotel. Which brings me back to the question, whom is calling me?

	The phone rang again only to be answered by me. When I

picked it up I found, to my surprise, my father. He started out by

saying how much he loved me and that he wished that I would move

back home. I told him that I would hang up is he didn't tell me why

he called. Then I heard the receiver pick up with a crying mother

at the end of it. I told my father, again, that if I didn't hear

anything useful to me that I would hang up. So he finally blurted

out that my sister had been murdered. I wanted so badly to just...

disappear. Finally I said, without crying, who did this, why, how,

but my pleas were unanswered. I started to yell who did this, who,

who! No one know my father said. I knew it; you are just as useless

as before. I slammed the phone down and knocked over my first aid

kit and my gun. I suddenly remembered the dream I had about my

sister screaming. Why was she screaming?

	After picking up what I had knocked over I decided to call

my parents back by dialing my old phone number. I called them back

to try and figure a few things out before looking for my sister. It

has been four years since I have solved anything so I decided to

start with the basic questions. When I called, my father answered

the phone and before he could say hello I asked him who killed my

sister. He said that if he knew the answer to that question he

would have told me earlier. So my first question went nowhere but

my second was the one that started my search. I asked him where she

was murdered and my first piece of evidence was an amusement park.

After about five minutes of pure silence my father said that my

sister had some important news she needed to tell me but since she

was dead he told me him self. He said Brilliance, my sister, had

become a cop to follow in my footsteps. Holding back tears I told

my father that I had had enough of my old life to last me awhile. I

hung up the phone again and decided to relax, seeing how my sister

had just died. I needed to take a breather.

	The dream of my sister dying kept on haunting me. It would

just replay itself in my mind over and over. What did it mean?

After about thirty minutes of repetition I decided to take a shower

and try to forget what I was dealing with. But when I walked into

the bathroom I saw something very much unexpected. The sink and

faucet were covered in blood. When I looked at the shower there was

this bloody shirt hanging there. Oddly enough it looked as though

it was my shirt and soon to find out it was. I walked toward the

shower to pick it up when I noticed there happened to be a hole in

the stomach area of the shirt. When I picked the shirt up I felt

woozy and all of a sudden I passed out and had yet another dream.

	By now I haad started to call my dreams visions because

when you dream you are actually asleep, but as you see I was not

sleeping. When I had this vision I saw Brilliance again, but this

time she was not on the ground in fact she was pointing a knife at

me and yelling. At first I could not understand her however after a

while I understood exactly why she was screaming. She was screaming

these horrible words "get away from me, are you crazy, why are you

doing this to me." Why would my own sister say those things to me?

Still the vision continued and not long after she stopped yelling

she stabbed me and I fell to the ground.

	I awoke from the dream in extreme pain. I looked down at my

stomach and there was this red blotch spreading on my shirt. When I

lifted my shirt I discovered a knife wound with stitches around it.

I tried with all my strength to stand up and reach the first aid

kit while trying to not my myself bleed more than I was. When I

grabbed the kit all of the contents fell out. Finally after

cleaning up the mess I found what I needed and proceeded with the

stitching. After I stitched my wound I tried to focus on what

happened to me. Did my sister really stab me? Her own flesh and

blood. What had frightened my sister enough to stab me? I decided

to search my hotle room and to see if I could find anything to help

me with my problem. At which moment I happened to remember seeing a

knife on the floor when I dropped the first aid kit. When I touched

the knife memories started to come back to me. Darkness, mirrors, a

roller coaster, tears, dust, and finally Brilliance. I heard

disturbing sounds like gun shots, howling wind, gasping of air, and

bullet shells dropping with intense heat. Enough, I threw the knife

across the room and it landed heavily on the floor. At which

instant I walked to the knife and picked it back up. Suddenly I had

more horrifying memories come back to me. I could smell the air

before it rains and Brilliance's sweet perfume lingering in the

air. I could also remember the way her hair and clothes smelt. The

one vision that stood out beyond the others was the pictures and

sounds of a stormy night.

	When I finally put the knife away I called my parents to

ask where the amusement park was. They told me right away and I

hung up the phone and ran to my car with my gun and the bloody

knife. While driving to the park I hda the knife in my view on the

dashboard. It had never occurred to me that the knife was the

biggest clue I had and that almost killed me. Further along the

road it began to rain and after awhile it became a problem. The

rain slicked the road and it was dangerous to go fast but I ignored

everything. My ignorance cost me my car as I slammed head on into a

tree.

	After yet another vision of Brilliance I woke up with a cut

on my forehead that was pouring blood into my eyes. When I looked

out of the car the rain had stopped and fog had eased itself into

the scenery. I slowly unbuckled and rolled out of the car only to

land awkwardly on the ground and break my arm. The sound of

breaking bones caused me to scream out in pain. Then without

warning two cops appeared in the fog and I stood up and walked over

to them and in an instant I passed out in their arms. At the time I

woke up I had a cast on my right arm and I was in extreme pain. I

heard whispers from another room but I still had not focused on

where I was. After awhile I noticed that I was in a jail cell when

at that same moment a guard appeared at my cell. He told me that I

was under arrest for possessing a gun and I was to be tried for the

murder of Brilliance. I told him that I did not kill her but he

just laughed.I finally said to myself that I needed to get out of

here and find who killed her. I used one of the bobby pins I had in

my hair to unlock the cell and found some car keys. I left the area

but not before seeing some cops coming running after me. I didn't

care because I was on a mission.

	Driving down the road was a pain because of the fog and my

cast. The radio static was a pain as well and moments later they

announced on the CB that I had escaped from jail and that I was

armed and dangerous. I guess they noticed that I took my gun back.

After a ten minute drive I found my way to the park, which was

closed. So I busted my way in through the chained gate and

proceeded to the back of the park, my visions from earlier being my

guide. After passing a house of mirrors I saw police tape strung up

cround this haunted warehouse. I broke the tape and walked up a

flight of stairs. Outside I could hear police sirens racing towards

the park. When I made it through the top of the stairs the was this

hatch with a broken lock on it. Someone had been here already and I

was guessing it was Brilliance. When I opened the hatch I could see

police cars swarming the park. The view was amzing because the fog

had lifted and it had begun to snow. Of course the snow didn't make

anything better.

	I stood at the top of the roof only to see cops invade the

warehouse. I began to have more visions this time I was actually

repeating them. I could not control myself at all. I had pulled my

gun and I was acting like I was shooting someone on the ground.

While this was happening the cops burst through the hatch and ahead

of them was my old captain. He told them to stay back because I was

crazy. He started walking towards me and I shot him when he pulled

his gun on me. He fired back and hit me in the chest, which sent me

rolling towards the edge of the roof. I almost fell off but the

captain grabbed me and said he was going to finish the job. I asked

him why and he whispered that he was the one that killed me sister

and I was next. Without hesitation I grabbed his arms and pushed

him off the roof but he grabbed my legs and I fell down on the

roof. We both started to slide off the roof as the other cops ran

to try and help. But to no avail we both started to fall towards

the freshly snow painted ground. We both fell into the house of

mirrors and I watched as the shards reflected the pain we were both

going through. In a glimpse I saw a vision of my sister in one of

the shards as we both hit the ground. The captain stumbled to get

up and as he stood over me with his gun pointed at my head he had a

look of triumphant. He leaned in close grabbing the hair on my head

to keep me still. He told me how he killed her because she was

going to be a good cop and that he couldn't allow her to find out

how corrupt he was. All the while I was reaching for a shard of

glass. Slowly inching my hand towards a piece he sees me and takes

it shot. I look down and see the smoking gun barrel pointed at my

chest. Not wanting to fail doing what is right I used every bit of

myself to finish what I had come to do. I flung the shard into his

neck and watched him stumble backwards amazed at his own

carelessness. I watched as he regret poured over his face. As we

both sat there dying I felt a sense of relief as it was all over. I

had finally ended my life doing something for someone else why he

died doing something for himself.

title: For You

question: Summarize why "she" became silent and lifeless.

answer: This refers to a dream that the narrator has at the beginning of the story. The narrator sees her covered in blood and crying. She becomes silent and lifeless because she has died from her injuries. It's later revealed that it was a dream about his sister Brilliance, who he discovers was murdered after his dream. He later realizes his dreams are actually visions. It's first presumed the narrator killed Brilliance, but it's later revealed his old captain was the one who killed his sister.

question: Summarize the narrator's interactions with his father.

answer: After the narrator's dream about a woman dying, he gets a call from his father. He tells the narrator how much he loves him, and that he wishes he would move back home. The narrator wants him to get straight to the point or he will hang up. The father reveals that his sister Brilliance had been murdered. After doing some thinking, he calls his father back. When the narrator asks who killed Brilliance, his father says no one knows but that she was killed at an amusement park. His father also reveals that Brilliance had decided to become a cop to follow in the narrator's footsteps.

question: What does the text say about the narrator's time in jail?

answer: The narrator ends up in jail after passing out when his car crashes. He wakes up with his arm in a cast, in pain, and unaware of where he is. A guard tells him he has been placed under arrest for possessing a gun and for the murder of Brilliance. The narrator refutes these claims, but the guard only laughs. The narrator decides he needs to get out of his cell, and uses bobby pins to unlock the cell. He finds car keys and leaves.

question: What does the text say about the dad's murder?