text:
__Chapter 1: Ethanol Publishes Me__

 "I'm here recently getting used to the taste of the roof of my mouth" writes John, to his parents from space camp. "Days go by and my motive slowly slips from before my eyes into the back of my mind. And, not like 'I can barely see it' in the back of my mind. I'm talking about my subconscious. I don't relate to what was formerly in my blood. My heart now beats for someone else. Or, at least, is starting to. Here all this time you had me thinking that the days were separated, but I now see that they are not. They all run together. They bleed into one another. They blend in. And, if I didn't have a trained eye, I might not would have even noticed it."

 John was not writing his parents in angst, but rather, was writing them in the hopes that they would understand what he was going through. But, would they? Could John accurately translate his thoughts into verbal expressions? Were they even thoughts? Did John's ramblings even make sense?

 John Wallington was a prestigious young man with a goal in sight, but the obstacle that John had to face was the fact that his goal was slowly being over-taken by doubt. And, John never really 'made' this goal. It was as if it had always just been in his heart. Even before he could speak, or even think, this goal was there. But, was it only John who sought after his goal? Or were there millions of others out there with the same goal, but just with different methods of reaching it? And, just what is the "goal" anyway?

 John lays back on his bed and reminisces over an old memory. In the memory, John is three years old and in desperate need. His mother picks him up and cradles him, but it does no good. John still screams, breathes heavily, and has tears streaming down his face. His mother puts him down on the couch, and runs to the kitchen to get some Gerber [Copyright ©2008 Gerber Baby Food and Formula Company, White Plains, NY 10605. All rights reserved.Call toll free 1-800-704-2180 or Email UsNecesita ayuda? Llame al 1-800-704-4064 par hablar con un Representante en Español.] baby food, to see if that will cheer him up. She runs back into the living room with the asparagus flavored slop, desperately tossing spoonfuls in his mouth in an attempt to shut him up. This, however, only makes things worse. John speaks up, in a loud, clear voice, saying to his mother: "Mama, you think what you just saw was crazy, watch this what I'm about to do." Three year old John gets up off of the couch, grabs a mallet, which his mother didn't even know they had, and walks over to the television set. Raising the mallet above the television set, John looks over towards his mother with a very faint smirk on his baby food-covered face, and was about to say "now, I ain't gonna do it, but now you know how far I am willing to take this", but doesn't get a chance to, for the mallet weighed so much that he fell backwards, went flying through the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, and landed in the sink. He then shouts to his mother "Hey, wait a minute … It ain't no baaath tiiime!" Tanica, his mother, hates him.

 Thinking back to this terrible experience, John realizes that his only reason for not taking life and running with it is that he can't find the handles. He greases his bottle of malt liquor, which is actually malt vinegar, as he kicks back a lukewarm one. He doesn't brush his teeth, wash his face, or anything. He goes to sleep.

__Chapter 2: The Meaning of Boz Scaggs.__

 "Dern Burn Wurn Gurn Plarnish-baubs", Stan, John's best friend says as he wipes the clock down. "Just where did you get that printer that you have?" John asks Stan. Before Stan can answer, Deep Tickets, their lost roommate walks through the door. He could've just opened it, but he walks through it instead. "DEEP TICKETS!" the two terrifyingly scream. They are so excited to see him because they believed him to be dead for the past five months after leaving him with an admitted murderer. In celebration of life, the life of Deep Tickets, that is, they go to eat at Martian Manhattan's, an Italian eatery right off highway 2. John orders the Siamese Duck Pork, Stan orders the Loose Gobblers Horse Wax plate, while Deep Tickets orders the Sideways Stuffin' Trough Bacon Mays. They gobble down their delinquency, along with their food. Stan and John go back to the space camp, while Deep Tickets remains un-murdered until the end of this story.

 Rink varnish double stats on table wopps free. John and Stan walk up to their room. John has the keys out and is opening the door. As John is in the midst of opening the door, Stan says to him: "We need to get some fabric softener." John, confused with his right hand still on the doorknob and the door still only halfway opened, turns to Stan, asking: "Did you just say that we need to gid some fathrid spottener?" To which Stan replies: "No. I said we need to get some fabric softener." "Oh. Ok" says John. John finishes opening the door. The two haven't showered yet because they just got home. They walk in and, despite having just eaten at a restaurant, they begin to eat again. They eat a bunch of junk. And don't think I mean like, junk-food, I mean literal garbage that they found in the trash. The two sit at the table as they discuss everything from pillow camps to harvest answers. All is calm until, suddenly, while on the subject of gay abortion, John gets very angry. He stands up and yells at Stan: "You can just get out right this second!" Stan leaves in a hurry. "And don't you ever come back!" John shouts. John slides down the fire-pole and into the Johncave, where he gets into the Johnmobile immediately upon seeing the Johnsignal. He travels to downtown Johnthom city, where Pigman Ringspit is at it again. John gets out his gun and shoots Pigman Ringspit in the shoulder, whereas Pigman then falls to the ground. Pigman, disgruntled, mutters euphemisms about Johnman while Johnman is on his way back to the Johnmobile.  Johnman begins walking toward Pigman with a crowbar. "What was that? Huh? What did you say about me?" Johnman asks Pigman, walking towards him, swinging the crowbar 'round. Johnman is not Arabic. "Uhh… Uhh… Nothing, Johnman. Uhh… Nothing at all... hehe J" Pigman replies. "Didn't think so," replies Cody I mean John. Johnman.  Johnman walks back to his car, the Johnmobile, and back to his apartment he goes. Where he stops: His apartment.

  "Every leg has a st st story to tell," John silently shouts to himself from his rocking chair as he tries not to rock in it, seeing how it's 12:34AM. He looks over to his left; nothing, to his right; still, nothing. As he peers into his neighbors window, he sees such a pretty face. It's a young boy who appears to resemble Richard Karn. Colonel Sanders? Ha! You wish! John gets up, turns out his trust, and bathroom cans his against. He spins his wobble deck on the outside of his trimp landust and wostles his ambrosia veins with chocolate. "Tomorrow is for faking," isn't what John said. He says to himself: "Anderson, where is your crime? Where issssssssss yo criiiiiime?!" John lays down, falls asleep, wakes up, goes through another day, goes to bed, falls asleep, wakes up, walks up to his wife and says "Honey, where are the bread rolls?" Now, John didn't have a wife, but he liked to act like he did when his skin turned black.

 So, for the next three days, John stuck with his conscience. He rode on the windy capitol. Not to forsake himself, but rather, to embrace his biography. He had always wanted to make a biography, and he knew that if he ever did, it would be called 'Herman: A Story of Life.' The reason for this being that his favorite Death Cab For Cutie song was Cath and he didn't want to name it after that.

__Chapter 3: The Golden Gardens of Hurty Holmes__

 John gets up, leaves his apartment, and walks down into the main lobby. Since this is a space camp apartment, there are faulty spaceships all over the place, ones that could not be used to actually send people to the moon. John works up his courage, gets into his car, and drives far, far away. John doesn't stop driving until he hits the interstate. He keeps his courage up, gets out of the car, walks back home, and calls Stan, only to get his answering machine. "Hi! This is Stan. Please leave a brief number next to the sign, and I'll try to get back with you as time permits. Sometimes I do, and then, well, you know. I think you get the picture. Sometimes I just plum can't! I mean, I just get so busy with my daily, hustle and hurry world. If you did leave a message, it would mean a lot to me… John." It isn't Stan's answering machine! It's him! It's really him! John says to Stan: "Stan, is that… you?" "Ha haaaaaaa! Why of course it is ol' buddy. I knew you didn't mean all them mean things you said to me the other day and… well, be honest wichee, I'd really like to be yo friend again." John was disgusted. He hung up the phone and ran in the bathroom to puke! He called Stan back! He said to Stan: "Stan! The answer is yes!" The two reunite at United Way airport, on Crestwood Boulevard. They don't say a word to each other! They just go home, eat candy wrappers, ice cubes, and snow worms until they puke! Again! Boy, I dunno about you but I think John's had his fair share of puking for one day! Ha! I mean, my gosh, the guys about to puke his head off!

 Meanwhile, back in Hades, John is alone. He doesn't have any friends, and no one understands his mangled soul. John walks to the Sol Azteca and eats some food. He doesn't believe why he's here, but he most of all didn't ambiguate his left motion. Wait, that didn't make any sense. Let me start this whole story over.

__Chapter 4: The Story Continues (wide windows up ahead)__

 Layers of food cake fall down John's left knuckle as he motions for his daughter to come clean the kitchen. John's daughter is a lamppost that he uses when cleaning the kitchen. His sackcloth is on the oven burner, so he goes ahead and turns it on to just burn it up. He leaves his apartment, walks over to the Sol Azteca, eats some cat litter, gripes at his daughter over the phone, leaves Sol Azteca, gets in his car, wipes down the mirror (the front view mirror), and skips town to avoid the Judge's decision to incarcerate him. He gets on a plane to Sacramento.

__Chapter 5: Tales From The Dark Side__

 Scott

__Chapter 6: Motion Sickness Gives Me The Blues, Nina__

 As John un-boards the plane, he realizes that he is now actually in Sacramento. "Well, now I'm in Sacramento. I can do whatever I want!" John rents a car from Rent-A-Car, because he thought that the company name was a direct command for him to do so. He drove into town, got out of the car, pulled an aluminum baseball bat out of his pocket and beat the living daylights out of the rental. He picked up a heavy stone and lunged it through a store window. He kicked over a street light. John had lost all sense. The boy went mad. And when I said "the boy went mad," I meant to say "the man went mad." John was soon caught and locked up in the state penitentiary, where he made some new friends… of the hurtin' kind. John showed them all his weapons and told them that he once killed a man, but then let them know that he was only joking by winking at them. Ten years of brutal beating and pain went by before John was let out because the cops thought they had the wrong guy, which they didn't. John left dissatisfied. He boarded a plane back to the Himalayans, where he had never before visited. He thought that the getaway would be nice for a few. So he got off the plane and, immediately upon un-boarding the plane, John saw Stan. "Stan!" John shouted. Stan turned around with a geeky smile on his face. Bonus. Stan shouted to John: "John!" John shouted back to Stan: "Stan, I… I don't know what you're doing here in the Himalayans and I don't wanna know! I just want to be your friend!" Stan shouted back at John: "I know, John! I feel the same way! Wanna go get coffee?!" John shouted back: "No, I hate coffee, you stupid jerk! I shoulda known you were no friend of mine, you back-stabbin' piece of garbage trash. Go jump off a cliff." Stan walks toward John giggling like a little pansy beast. The two embrace, get on a plane, and head on back to the space camp for their daily ritual.
 As soon as they walk through the door John pulls out the ice cream-rats from underneath the fridge. They take down their empire as they walk out of heat.

title: Herman: A Story of Life

question: Summarize everything relating to food and drink.

answer: In John's memory, his mother runs to the kitchen to get him some Gerber baby food. While thinking back on this, he drinks some malt vinegar. John and Stan go to Martian Manhattan's with Deep Tickets to eat. When they get home, they eat a bunch of junk from the trash can. Later on, he "wostles his ambrosia veins with chocolate". He asks his pretend wife where the bread rolls are. When he reunites with stan, they eat candy wrappers, ice cubes, and snow worms. Layers of food cake fall down John's left knuckle when he asks his daughter to clean the kitchen. He eats cat litter.

question: Summarize all instances of violence that occur during the story.

answer: John travels to downtown Johnthom city, where he shoots Pigman Ringspit in the shoulder. When John drives into town in a Rent-A-Car, he gets out of the car and beats it up with a baseball bat. He tosses a stone through a store window.

question: What does the story say about John's family.

answer: John writes a letter to his parents from space camp. In his memory, his mother cradles him and runs to get him baby food from the kitchen. His mother's name is Tanica, and she hates him. John doesn't have a wife but he likes to act like he does.

question: What does the story say about how John met his wife?


split: test

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[[File:Anton Beer-Walbrunn.jpg|thumb|

Anton Beer-Walbrunn

]] ANTON BEER-WALBRUNN (29 June 1864 – 22 March 1929) was a German composer.

Life

Beer was the 4th of five children of the teacher, cantor, sacristan and community writer Anton Beer and his wife Margarethe, _née_ Walbrunn, in the Upper Palatinate Kohlberg. His birthplace was demolished in 2019.[1] In 1877 he attended the Regensburg Preparatory School, took the entrance examination for the Dominican Monastery Eichstättand subsequent use Teachers' Seminar Eichstätt in 1880, but then changed to the newly founded seminar in Amberg - today the - and was one of the first graduates in 1882. In 1886 he passed the final examination as the best of 57 candidates.[2]

His teacher Domkapellmeister Widmann in Eichstätt made a significant contribution to him and enabled him to study in Munich from 1888 to 1891 with Joseph Rheinberger, Hans Bußmeyer and Ludwig Abel at the Akademie der Tonkunst. In 1901 he was appointed teacher for counterpoint, composition, harmony and piano at the same Royal Academy of Music in Munich (today: Hochschule für Musik und Theater München). In 1908 he was appointed Royal Professor. In 1904 he married the painter Ida Görtz, with whom he has since used the maiden name of his mother, who died at an early age, as a double name Beer-Walbrunn.

Among his students were Télémaque Lambrino, Fritz Büchtger, Alfred Einstein, Carl Orff and Wilhelm Furtwängler as well as the musicologist and critic Eugen Schmitz.

Beer-WalbrunnSein died in Munich. His grave is located at the Munich Waldfriedhof.

The Anton Beer-Walbrunn - Kohlberg art and culture association[3] (established June 2015, president Martin Valeske) is holding the “Beer-Walbrunn-Days” in autumn, where his music is performed again. He cooperates with the Markt Kohlberg, the city of Weiden and the district of Oberpfalz.

Work

A. Vocal Music

Songs: There are about 60 of them.[4]

-   op. 12 after texts by Ludwig Uhland and Adolf Friedrich von Schack
-   op. 13 et al. after Nikolaus Lenau
-   op. 24 after Nikolaus Lenau
-   op. 27 Songs for voice and piano
-   op. 31 _The Fugitive_, Ballad for baritone and orchestra
-   op. 34 Ten “Shakespeare”'s sonnets"
-   op. 37 after Annette von Droste-Hülshoff
-   op. 39 after Nikolaus Lenau and Ludwig Uhland
-   op. 59 Sacred Songs after Eichendorff
-   op. 60 after Joseph von Eichendorff
-   op. 62a Songbook for high school girls
-   op. 62b Songbook for Boys' Middle Schools
-   op. 62c Arrangements of Christmas songs for voice, piano, violin and cello
-   op. 63 Seven Songs for Voice and Piano

Choral music:

-   op. 7 _The Air Ghost Song_ for mixed choir and orchestra
-   op. 16 _Mahomet's Song_ for solos, choir, orchestra and organ after Goethe (1895)
-   op. 1, 35b, 48, 66, 69 for mixed choir
-   op. 35a, 53, 55, 68 for male choir

B. Stage productions:

-   op. 10 _The Expiation_, opera after Theodor Körner, premiere 1894 at Lübeck
-   op. 18 _Don Quixote_, opera after Miguel de Cervantes, premiere 1908 Munich, under Felix Mottl
-   op. 41 _Sühne_, arrangement of the opera op. 10 as Volksoper in one act
-   op. 43 Stage music to _Hamlet_ (1909)
-   op. 47 arrangement of the opera _The three daughters of Cecrop_ by N. A. Strungk
-   op. 50 _The Beast_, comedy after Anton Chekhov, first performance 1914 Karlsruhe, Court Theatre
-   op. 54 incidental music to Shakespeare's _Tempest_, 2 acts
-   op. 64 _The Tempest_, symbolic fairy tale in 3 acts, incidental music

Instrumental music

Orchestral works:

-   op. 2 Concert Overture
-   op. 5 Symphony in F minor
-   op. 9 Concert Allegro in F sharp minor for violin and orchestra
-   op. 11 Symphonic Fantasy D Major “Artist Life”
-   op. 22 German Suite
-   op. 36 Symphony E Major
-   op. 38a Orchestral arrangement of a canzone by Gabrieli
-   op. 38b Arrangement of a Gavotte by Schlemüller for violoncello and orchestra
-   op. 40 “Cloud Cuckoo's Home”, three burlesques
-   op. 52 Concerto for violin and orchestra G major
-   op. 61 Overture of comedy based on motives from the opera “The Beast”

Chamber music:

-   op. 3 Little Fantasy in G minor for violin and piano
-   op. 4 String Quartet No. 1 in C major
-   op. 6 String Quartet No. 2 in C minor
-   op. 8 Piano Quartet F major (premiere with Hans Pfitzner at the piano)
-   op. 14 String Quartet No. 3 G Major
-   op. 15 Sonata for violoncello and piano G major
-   op. 17 Sketch of a piano quintet in G minor
-   op. 19 String Quartet No. 4 in E minor
-   op. 20 Ode for violoncello and piano G major
-   op. 25 Humoresque for string quartet and piano G major
-   op. 26 String Quartet No. 5 D minor
-   op. 30 Sonata for violin and piano in D minor
-   op. 33 Arrangements of six sonatas for violin and harpsichord by Dall'Abaco
-   op. 70 Piano Quintet in G minor, arrangement of the sketch op. 17

Piano music:

-   op. 21 _Travel Pictures_, cycle of six piano pieces
-   op. 22 _Deutsche Suite_ for four hands for piano and orchestra
-   op. 23 Fugue in G minor, march and waltz (four hands)
-   op. 42 Three pieces for piano solo as well as violin and piano, including:
-   op. 42/2 Variations on “How beautifully the morning star shines”
-   op. 56/57 piano pieces
-   op. 58 Fantasy Sonata in F sharp minor for piano solo
-   op. 67 Three pieces for piano solo

Organ music:

-   op. 28 Drei Fugen für die Orgel (1905)
-   op. 29 Drei kleine Fugen für die Orgel
-   op. 32 Orgelsonate g-Moll (1906)
-   op. 45 Kleine Stücke für die Orgel[5][6][7][8]

Recordings

-   Anton Beer-Walbrunn – Shakespeare-Sonette und ausgewählte Lieder (Weltersteinspielung 2016). Angelika Huber (soprano), Kilian Sprau (piano). Bayer Records BR 100 390
-   Süddeutsche Orgelmusik der Spätromantik. Gerhard Weinberger (Organ). TYXart / BR KLASSIK, TXA15052. Darunter die Orgelfuge über einen gregorianischen Choral op. 29/1. Bestell-Nr. TXA15052

Further reading

-

-   Eberhard Otto: _Der Professor aus Kohlberg._ In: _Heimat Ostbayern._ Nr. 5/1989, S. 42ff.
-   -   Friedrich Blume (ed.): _Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart: allgemeine Enzyklopädie der Musik_. With the collaboration of numerous music researchers at both home and abroad. 17 volumes. dtv, Munich/ Bärenreiter, Kassel among others. 1989, (dtv) / (Bärenreiter).
-   Ludwig Finscher (ed.): _Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart_. 26 volumes in two parts 2., revised edition. Bärenreiter/ Metzler, Kassel among others 2003, |(Bärenreiter)/ (Metzler).

[1] _Walbrunn House: Demolition begins_. Onetz.de, 11 April 2019, accessed 25 February 2020.

[2] Eberhard Otto: _Der Professor aus Kohlberg._ In _Heimat Ostbayern._ No. 5/1989.

[3] Anton Beer-Walbrunn – Kunst- und Kulturverein Kohlberg

[4] _Programme booklet Beer-Walbrunn-Days 2015._

[5] Eberhard Otto: _Der Professor aus Kohlberg._ In _Heimat Ostbayern._ No. 5/1989.

[6] _Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart._ Kassel 1949. Volume 1, .

[7] Ludwig Finscher: _Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart_. Kassel / Stuttgart 1994–2008

[8] beer-walbrunn-kohlberg.de

title: Anton Beer-Walbrunn

question: What was the name of Beer-Walbrunn's specific structure in which he was born?

answer: Walbrunn House.

question: Explain Beer-Walbrunn's life's work.

answer: He did vocal, orchestral, chamber, and piano/organ music.

question: What percentage of Beer-Walbrunn's vocal music songs are listed?

answer: About 23%.

question: What did Beer-Walbrunn contribute, specifically, to schools?

answer: He wrote songbooks for boys' and girls' schools.


text:
"Well, in layman's terms I can honestly say that I have no idea what it is"
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, not bothering to mask my dissatisfaction in front of the Professor "Can you explain to me what data you have in scientific terms?"  I asked irritably
The scientist nodded, his bald head shining in the floodlights in the cave. "Certainly" he said as he picked up a data pad "The composition of the device is a complex mineral containing both organic and inorganic elements, only a few of which we can readily identify. The rest are totally new to us. We do   know that it gives off very faint electromagnetic signals. Remarkably the frequency seems to shift randomly, going from infra-red and radio waves, down to the UV spectrum. So far the analysis of these signals has yielded negligible results. Sometimes we detect slight magnetic fields, coming from it and sometimes we don't. The origin of the  structure, the nature of its shape, its purpose, its power source (if any), its cultural significance, the means of its construction, and most importantly, what it does, are beyond  current comprehension due to  all our extensive experiments being completely inconclusive"
I groaned "So, in other words..."
"We have no damn clue what this thing is" The Professor finished, wiping his head with a damp cloth.
"Seriously this thing could be anything, maybe  a xeno construct, or something from the lost colonies, whatever it is, it's old,  it’s been in this hole for a least six millennium, and is most likely much older than that"
I walked around the structure, set into the ground of the cave... well it wasn't a cave exactly; a cave implies an opening, something that can be accessed naturally. Not this place. I guess the best word to describe it is as a cavern, a deep dark hollow, inexplicably existing almost a mile beneath the surface of Hupp,   the official designation given to both the mining colony and the planet upon it resides.

 I took a closer look at the object, brushing a strand of black hair away from my eyes. I needed to get it cut, but outside of Sol, good barbers were hard to find and I didn’t trust Xeno barbers, mostly because the majority of them do not have hair , and are not used to shaping it,  plus most of them have horrible fashion sense.
"So, remind me, Professor Gunnson, what does this place mine again?"

“Well, this particular colony rests over a rich ore of the mineral Cooperite, which contains palladium and Platinum, quite common for an Outer-world on this Spiral. Hupp-town (what the miners call their colony) primarily works with the extraction of the ore, but it is shipped off to the Central Hub of this Solar System to be refined.
"And how long has this mine been operational?"

"Ah...roughly 20 years, in earth time of course, Mr. Demmit"
 "Soooo" I began " Why  is it that  a sophisticated mining operation like this,  with over a decade’s experience working this patch of dirt, no doubt performing countless sonar and thermal underground imaging, had no idea that this place  existed until they  physically broke into it?"

Gunnson shrugged his shoulders, 'That's another mystery, I guess. The funny thing is, after this place was found, subsequent imaging actually mapped out this very room, despite identical previous scans being unable to detect it. Perhaps it was some   sort of Obstruction field, made so that this cavern would be unidentifiable by any sort of scans unless physically broken into, which would support the idea of it being an alien device."

"Hmm" I said and started at the structure again. It was indeed a most strange thing.  It was completely black, darker than Obsidian, without pattern or variation and quite tall, at least six feet. Its shape (if it even had one) was undeniably strange; the closest approximation I can give is of a three dimensional paint splatter, a chaotic conglomeration of artistry and design. Spheres which curved away into trapezoidal ridges resting on tiny poles that should not have been able to support its weight. On its top  a split hollow that looked like a mouth  with mismatched triangular teeth, resting diagonally atop a cyclopean lump, from which strands of the material branched off to form animalistic  designs, such as claws  and wings, and disturbingly, a human face.
On one side, a variety of non-Euclidian shapes seemed to have been fused together, haphazardly, like a child’s tower of building blocks. It was an incomprehensible work, almost schizophrenic when you'd thought you understood the shape from looking at one part, it would connect to something completely different and incompatible to the previous segment you saw. This inconsistency carried over to its construction. In one light you would swear it gleamed like iron pained black, others it had the texture of   polished rock, and some had no texture at all, just the sheer blackness of it. Like the mysterious shapes, whenever you sought to find the join, where the two different materials met, you could not find it, the distinction melted the further you looked, with the only results being a headache.
There was an indescribable wrongness to it, like it was something that had no right existing.  Even if it had been resting out in the sunlight it would have looked simply weird, but down here, in the oppression of the cavern, with the floodlights throwing shadows onto the surrounding walls and stalactites, it looked especially creepy.
I pulled out a cigarette "Is it safe to smoke in here?" I asked.
Gunnson nodded "yes, we hooked up an extra ventilation fan in the chamber, though I would prefer it if you would refrain from doing so"
I lit up and took a drag, feeling a little calmer. The professor sighed.
"So...Mr. Demmit" The Professor broke the silence "Why exactly did the Institute send you here?"
I Looked at him "You received a transmission from the main office shortly before my arrival, what did it say?"
Gunnson frowned confusedly "Just that you were going to 'appraise' the artifact"
I nodded "Well, Professor, that's exactly what I do. Whenever something new is discovered (or claimed to be discovered), be it a new breed of Digworm in a R&D lab, a more efficient Warp-core in a parking garage, or an ancient ceremonial bowl from an archeological dig site, etcetera, the moment the Institute gets wind of it, they send me in to inspect it and then I advise them of what potential use they could receive from these discoveries."

"So, hypothetically speaking, if you were to make a judgment now, what would the fate of this artifact be?"
I shrugged "Probably be shipped off to a museum somewhere. Since it has no apparent cultural or historical significance, it would either be labeled as an ' unknown curio' or 'ancient outsider art'...though the discovery and research teams will be acknowledged and suitably rewarded" I added quickly, noticing the sudden shock on the professor's face.
The Professor smiled, visibly relaxing "Well, that's good to know"
"Yes, though I’m hoping it will not come to it. I must confess that this..." I gestured to the statue, "thing, greatly interests me, whilst there have been artifacts found in similar circumstances, none were like this. I...”
Suddenly a beeping sound came from the professor’s coat. "Excuse me" he said bashfully. He took out his holopojector and activated it. The gas particles fanned out and took on the shape of a Sondhar, a fur covered creature, with a mass of feelers on its head.  "Ah, Nul-Parast, Gunnson exclaimed
" what's the word?"
The Projection started talking. "None of the Old Songs mention any sort of artifact as the one we have found, and the Keepers of the Histories don't recognize it either so it's nothing from the Sondharian Empire."

The Professor grunted "Shame about that, I was banking on it, what about Que and Dox, they contact you yet"
the alien shook its head "I believe they are still doing research, though I will put them through to you the moment they have a lead" And with that the projection dissipated into a mist of glimmering particles.

The Professor tucked the device away again. "Sorry about that, you were saying?"

I cleared my throat “I was saying that I hope this artifact does turn out to have significant value to the Institute after all"   and to myself I thought inwardly.  The more valuable the find, the more I get paid, and I was hoping that this wasn't another dud. Its mysterious origins had certainly intrigued me, but the way this was going, it wasn't going to provide much of a paycheck.

The Professor grinned ruefully "We can but hope, how long will your appraisal period be?" He asked.
"One month, Earth Calendar, with additional time granted should I request it from the Institute and if they consent to it."
"Then we'd better get back to work then"
I smiled,  "seems that way, I'm going to need all your findings, and data you have gathered so far"
" Coming right up" said Gunnson.
I spent the rest of the day   reading over the data the Professor had provided; it had not been much help. Every test the scientists had preformed had spit up the exact same results, unknown or data not found. It was if the structure had simple appeared in this universe one day. Maybe someday someone could have discerned what it was, but the Institute never liked the phrase “someday” almost as much as they disliked “indefinite” or “worthless”. I sighed as I put the finishing line on my preliminary report.
Will require more time to gather additional data on the object. Additional data will be provided in future reports.
 I pressed send, and the holoboard blinked. The message had just entered the fold-space. I yawned and stepped out of the small study tent that had been erected. To my surprise, the cavern was empty, whilst earlier it had been crammed with workmen and scientists, now only the solitary figure of Professor Gunnson remained, sitting on a small fold out chair, with one hand holding drink. When he saw me he gave a small wave.
“How’d the report go?” he asked

“Fine, just gave them the data and my current opinion on the object, where’d everyone else go?” I asked, looking around.
Gunnson pointed upwards with his free hand “Back to the surface, it’s past nightfall now, though you can’t tell it from down here. I like to stay down overnights sometimes, whenever I go to a dig site, in case I get an urge to run a test during the night”
“Does that happen often?”
The Professor grinned “More often than you’d think, help yourself to a beer by the way, they’re little stale but nice and cold” He gestured to a cooler that rested at his feet.
I reached in and pulled out a bottle, I twisted the top off and took a swig. The Professor had been right, it was old, no doubt it had been come from earth itself, but it was ice cold and, man after an afternoon working it tasted almost new.  I smacked my lips “Thanks Professor”
“Oh please, call me Harold”
“Only if you call me Wade” I said as I took a seat next to him.
“So Wade, what’s your story” Harold asked “How did one like you become an “appraiser” for the Institute?”
I shrugged, “nothing special really, was born and raised on Earth, went to University in England got a masters in Commerce, you know the score.  I did some work as a head hunter for hiring agencies, you know, finding fresh new talent for their companies, was pretty good at it too.  One day the Institute offered me this job.  Naturally I took it at once. Ever since I was a little boy I had wanted to go into space, well I suppose everyone does really.
“Not me” The Professor interjected “Can’t stand space travel, never could. Even now, I need to anti-anxiety medication before I get on a craft, and God-forbid I should look out a window! Space always terrified me.”
“In what way?”  I asked curiously
“The blackness “The Professor replied “It’s seems so…hostile, you understand, I mean anything could be hiding in the darkness, and our worlds, everything we ever know and care for, are just pinpricks amongst the blackness”
I had to laugh. “I’m sorry” I said, stifling a remaining chuckle “But I mean "hiding in the blackness of space?". You got to admit, it sounds pretty silly”
Harold shrugged “maybe so but it still gives me the nerves. Anyway my story is a bit like yours really. Got a masters in Xeno archeology and studies, and got poached by the Institute, till I wound up here, nothing special really”

For a while we just sat and drank our beers in silence. I found myself staring at the statue again, something about it didn’t quite seem right.  Hadn’t   that wing been on the other side? And had that trapezoidal bit at the top always been there? And suddenly it hit me.
“Harold” I said “does that statue seemed to have changed shape to you?”   I asked.
The Professor laughed nervously. “I thought it was just  me , but yes, it seems to  sort of shift its configuration and shape every so often, sometimes it happens once a day, sometimes  every other hour!”

“Really?” I said in amazement, you’ve seen this happen?”
“Well… not seen per se, it just sort of...shifts, one minute it looks like one particular object, the next it’s …changed”
 “What about video footage?”

Harold shook his head “that’s the thing, after the first time it happened I set up a camera to record the statue. The next time it changed shape, I watched the footage, and found that the footage from before showed the statue in the *exact same shape*.  I tested all the cameras and found no faults; it was like something was actively retroactively changing all images of itself to suit its current one. I recorded it through five shape changes, every time I did, the previous footage would show the statue in its current state”
I gave a sigh “More mysteries” I yawned, I needed some shuteye. I stood up and stretched. “Where can I sleep around here?”
“There’s bunking on the surface, but the lift takes about half an hour to get there, alternatively, I set up a couple of cots in the  service tent.”
“That’ll suit me just fine” I said, heading towards the area.
“Good night and don’t let this place give you nightmares” the Professor called over jovially.
I laughed; “The statue is creepier than anything my mind can come up with” I chuckled as I headed inside, and lay down on the bed.

title: [ SFHR] The Shapeless thing Part 1

question: What does the story say about unknowns?

answer: The origin of the structure, the nature of its shape, its purpose, its power source, its cultural significance, its means of construction, and what it does are all unknown. It's also a mystery how the location was never discovered before. The Projection that comes in reports that none of the Old Songs mention any artifact similar to the discovered one, nor is it recognized as being from the Sondharian Empire. Every test the scientists performed resulted in the results "unknown" or "data not found". The Professor also fears that anything could be hiding out in the blackness of space. It is also a mystery how the object changes shape and retroactively changes images of itself as well.

question: What does the story say about how the Professor intends to use the mysterious object?


text:
“Why do you want to know about the best day I ever had?”

“I think it will help. To learn more.”

“OK. I guess it was probably when I went sliding one day when I was ten years old. I had gone to school that day and came home but my mother wasn’t there. She had taken my little sister – who was five – to the doctor. My father wasn’t there ‘cause he was at work. Victor, the kid down the street, knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go sliding. We lived in the woods and there were lots of hills in the back of Victor’s house. I put my boots and hat and gloves on and went into the basement to grab my plastic red sled. We walked to Victor’s house and went up the hill. Victor’s parents weren’t around. His father didn’t live there ‘cause he was always drunk and his mother was really old. I’m not sure where she was but she wasn’t home. So we were alone. There really weren’t any other houses around. We didn’t have nearby neighbors or anything. It was sunny out, I remember that really well. It was a little cold, but not too bad. I’d guess it was around 35 degrees. It was late winter, too. Probably early March. I’m sure of that because it didn’t get dark until at least 6. I usually got home from school at 2:45 so I’m positive we were sliding by 3. Anyway, Victor’s sled was a little more beat up than mine. Those red plastic sleds would crack and break so we’d have to repair them with electrical tape. That was really the only thing we had. Scotch tape didn’t work. But the electrical tape was better – most times it worked, but sometimes it didn’t. Yeah, so there were trees and a rock wall we had to contend with. The rock wall – maybe it was built by Indians? – was at the bottom of the hill. So what we’d have to do, we’d have to pack a lot of snow on the top of the boulders and make it into a jump. You wouldn’t want to hit the rocks head on after flying down the hill, trust me. The trees were tricky, but it could be done as long as you were careful. It was a real thin slice between two oaks about one-third down the hill. If you hit one of them you’d damage your sled and might not be able to make any more runs. You might also knock yourself out, so you had to aim for the center spot and once you made it through, it was a straight shot to the jump at the bottom. If you hit the jump just right, blasting up the snow ramp, you’d go airborne for about 10 feet. The key was making the ramp a gradual run. If you made it too steep, you’d fly up, not out. So, like I say, if you made the ramp as long as possible, you’d just crush it. For some reason, there really weren’t any trees past the rock wall so landing wasn’t a problem. The run-off was great, too. You’d crash down and just go until you stopped. Well, to wrap it up, me and Victor must’ve gone up and down that hill a hundred times that day. Just a pair of fourth-graders having a great time. No adults around, no punk kids, no wild animals (that we saw, anyway). When we got thirsty, which was every ten minutes, we’d grab some snow. Me and Victor just flying down that hill and hitting that jump, it was awesome. To get back to your question, though, I’m not sure why you even want to know this.”

“Because of all the days in your life, you picked that one. You said that one was the best.”

“Well, to me, it was the best.”

“Why?"
“Because we were little kids, just goofing around. We had no responsibilities, we were never bothered and we were doing something really fun.”

“Have you had other fun times?”

“Sure. But none like that.”

“Why?”

“I just told you.”

“You said it was really fun. What made it more fun than any other experience you’ve had?”

“It was…I don’t know. Maybe…because there was no way to be measured.”

“Measured?”

“Yeah, right. Measured.”

“Measured in what way?”

“Ah…measured in the way against others, obviously.”

“I’m slightly confused.”

“I drive a cab, OK? And a lot of my days I drop people off at these high-rises on the East Side. Incredibly beautiful buildings. I’m a faceless idiot to them, a cabbie who takes them from Point A to Point B to home. And most of the time I pull up to one of those joints, I wonder what it’s like inside because I’ve never been in one. I bet they have high ceilings and lots of space. But I wouldn’t know. See, I just think the real difference between someone in the front of the cab and someone in the back of the cab is luck. They were lucky, I was unlucky. And that’s it.”

“What does that have to do with sliding on a winter day?”

“Your questions are something else.”

“I’m not trying to get you mad.”

“I’m not mad. I’m attempting to answer and explain.”

“Go ahead, then.”

“When me and Victor were out there, everything was even. There was no way anyone could be better or worse than the next guy. It didn’t matter what clothes you had, or what boots you wore or what sled you used. We were out there doin’ it. Having fun. And there was no system of accounting that could quantify anything that went on during our time on the hill.”

“Is there anything else?”

“About that day? Not really. I mean, when we were airborne off that jump, soaring out over the snow, we were ecstatic. It was the best feeling in the world.”

title: [RF] The Best Day, Downhill

question: Summarize the climactic event of the story.

answer: The narrator got home from school, his friend invited him to sliding. They built a ramp at the bottom of the hill with a good run-off and probably went down that hill 100 times by the end of the day. The narrator recalls this as the single best day of his life due to that lack of judgement, the equality and the absolute freedom.

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

answer: The cab driver is being questioned, presumably by a psychologist, about the best day he ever had. The cab driver is reluctant to answer the question, but eventually tells the story of how he went sledding in fourth grade with a friend. After more questions he realizes why this day was so freeing - because he was free of other people's judgements, nothing mattered except the next run.

question: What does the story say about cab drivers?

answer: Being a cab driver means being invisible and faceless to people who live in beautiful high rise buildings. He imagines what it looks like inside these buildings - high ceilings and lots of space. He thinks the real difference between someone in the front of the cab and someone in the back of the cab is luck. It is difficult for him to have responsibilities, to be measured the whole day. He feels like he ran out of luck.

question: Summarize all their previous sliding experience.


text:
JOHNSON COUNTY is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 5,217.[1] Its county seat is Tecumseh.[2] The county was formed in 1855, and was organized in 1857.[3][4][5] It was named for Richard Mentor Johnson, who was Vice President of the United States from 1837 to 1841.[6]

In the Nebraska license plate system, Johnson County is represented by the prefix 57 (it had the fifty-seventh-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established in 1922).

Geography

The terrain of Johnson County consists of low rolling hills whose flattened tops are mostly used for agriculture. The Big Nemaha River flows southeastward through the central part of the county.[7] The county has a total area of , of which is land and (0.2%) is water.[8] It is the fourth-smallest county in Nebraska by area.

Major highways

-   [] U.S. Highway 136
-   [] Nebraska Highway 41
-   [] Nebraska Highway 50
-   [] Nebraska Highway 62

Adjacent counties

-   Otoe County - north
-   Nemaha County - east
-   Pawnee County - south
-   Gage County - west
-   Lancaster County - northwest

Demographics

As of the 2000 United States Census,[9] there were 4,488 people, 1,887 households, and 1,254 families in the county. The population density was 12 people per square mile (5/km²). There were 2,116 housing units at an average density of 6 per square mile (2/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 93.54% White, 0.11% Black or African American, 0.40% Native American, 2.67% Asian, 0.02% Pacific Islander, 1.96% from other races, and 1.29% from two or more races. 2.87% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.

There were 1,887 households, out of which 29.60% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 58.10% were married couples living together, 5.50% had a female householder with no husband present, and 33.50% were non-families. 29.90% of all households were made up of individuals, and 17.70% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.35 and the average family size was 2.92.

The county population contained 24.20% under the age of 18, 5.70% from 18 to 24, 24.40% from 25 to 44, 23.60% from 45 to 64, and 22.00% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 42 years. For every 100 females there were 91.90 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 90.80 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $32,460, and the median income for a family was $41,000. Males had a median income of $26,282 versus $20,799 for females. The per capita income for the county was $16,437. About 6.70% of families and 8.90% of the population were below the poverty line, including 10.50% of those under age 18 and 11.10% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

-   Cook
-   Crab Orchard
-   Elk Creek
-   Saint Mary
-   Sterling
-   Tecumseh (county seat)
-   Vesta

Politics

Johnson County voters have been reliably Republican for decades. In no national election since 1964 has the county selected a Democratic Party candidate (as of 2016).

  Year                               Republican                                  Democratic                                  Third Parties
  ---------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |64.9% _1,355_   style=“text-align:center;” |27.0% _563_     8.2% _171_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |59.4% _1,225_   style=“text-align:center;” |38.3% _790_     2.3% _48_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |54.1% _1,142_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.3% _914_     2.6% _54_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |61.4% _1,470_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.0% _885_     1.6% _39_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |57.3% _1,210_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.6% _794_     5.1% _108_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |48.0% _1,009_   style=“text-align:center;” |36.6% _770_     15.4% _324_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |37.5% _885_     style=“text-align:center;” |34.8% _822_     27.7% _653_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |50.2% _1,182_   style=“text-align:center;” |49.4% _1,164_   0.4% _10_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |64.4% _1,542_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.3% _821_     1.4% _33_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |67.0% _1,719_   style=“text-align:center;” |24.4% _626_     8.6% _220_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |52.9% _1,298_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.4% _1,115_   1.7% _42_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |64.1% _1,637_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.9% _917_     style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |60.8% _1,508_   style=“text-align:center;” |30.6% _759_     8.7% _215_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |45.8% _1,312_   style=“text-align:center;” |54.2% _1,554_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |64.6% _2,098_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.4% _1,151_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |65.5% _2,160_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.6% _1,140_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |74.0% _2,787_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.0% _978_     style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |58.5% _1,817_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.5% _1,291_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |72.2% _2,649_   style=“text-align:center;” |27.8% _1,019_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |68.3% _2,919_   style=“text-align:center;” |31.7% _1,357_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |47.0% _2,126_   style=“text-align:center;” |52.1% _2,359_   0.9% _40_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |39.3% _1,644_   style=“text-align:center;” |59.9% _2,505_   0.8% _32_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |63.7% _2,632_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.9% _1,485_   0.4% _17_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |54.1% _2,075_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.5% _1,285_   12.4% _474_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |71.3% _2,416_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.8% _909_     1.9% _64_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |54.4% _1,373_   style=“text-align:center;” |44.3% _1,117_   1.4% _34_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |29.8% _672_     style=“text-align:center;” |39.4% _890_     30.8% _695_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1908   style=“text-align:center;” |53.0% _1,357_   style=“text-align:center;” |44.9% _1,150_   2.1% _53_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1904   style=“text-align:center;” |63.5% _1,611_   style=“text-align:center;” |25.3% _642_     11.3% _286_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1900   style=“text-align:center;” |54.9% _1,532_   style=“text-align:center;” |42.2% _1,179_   2.9% _82_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION RESULTS[10]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

title: Johnson County, Nebraska

question: What does the text say about the University of Nebraska-Lincoln wrestling team?

question: Summarize what the text says about Johnson County.

answer: Johnson County is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. As of the 2010 United States Census, it had a population of 5,217. The county was formed in 1855 and organized in 1857. The terrain of Johnson County consists of low rolling hills whose flattened tops are used for agriculture. The Big Nemaha River flows southeastward through the central part of the county. Four major highways are in and around Johnson County, namely U.S. Highway 136 and Nebraska Highways 41 50, and 62. The voters in the county have been reliably Republican for decades.

question: What are some interesting facts about Johnson County?

answer: Johnson County was named for Richard Mentor Johnson, who was Vice President of the United States from 1837 to 1841. Its county seat is Tecumseh. In the Nebraska license plate system, Johnson County is represented by the prefix 57, meaning it had the 57th-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established in 1922. Johnson County is the fourth-smallest county in Nebraska by area, of which only 0.2% is water. The Democrats haven't won a seat in the county since 1964. Females outnumber males (for every 100 females there were 91.9 males) but the salary disparity is huge between the sexes ($6,000).

question: Summarize what the text says about Johnson County's demographics?

answer: Johnson County is predominantly White, making up 93.554% of the total population. The rest are people of Latino or Hispanic origin (2.87%), Asians (2.67%), Native Americans (0.40%), and Blacks (0.11%). The median age was 42 years, while the median income for a household in the county was $32,460. The per capita income for the county was $16,437. About 6.70% of families and 8.90% of the population were below the poverty line.


text:
A figure, indistinguishable, started making its way towards me. As he got closer however, I realized that it was one of the members of the helicopter! He was a passenger, one of the command and control operators. He brought me up to speed on what was going on.

The pilot managed to touch down the aircraft relatively unscathed in a field on the side of the mountain opposite to where I fell out. They assumed that I had been jostled out by the blast and thought I was dead. After they disembarked the aircraft, the passengers and crew made their way to the radio tower on the top of the mountain, where they were able to establish comms with the majority of the friendly forces operating in the area. They eventually heard someone crashing through the woods and sent out a few members of the team to investigate, upon which they stumbled on me. I guess I wasn't being as stealthy as I thought I was.

The solider escorted me up to the observation post that had been established, and I was able to see the men who had all given me up for dead. The meeting was a little more lackluster than I thought it would be, coming back from the dead and all, but they had more important things to do rather than worry about one more soldier. The battle was being won, and they needed to finish their jobs. I walked outside the wire and propped myself up against a tree, resting. The sun had started to rise and it was getting light now, and I knew that the battle was going to be coming to a close. I looked to my right and saw a dirt road that ran perpendicular to me, with a treeline on the other side of it. I started to close my eyes and push the worries of the war aside when my world exploded around me. My ears rung, the ground shook, and the boom knocked the wind out of my chest. Grenades were falling around us.

We were under attack, and I had no idea where it was coming from. Suddenly I heard shots coming from those trees I had just looked towards moments ago. Rolling onto my belly, I pulled a grenade of my own from my vest, ripped the pin out and screamed that I was yelling a frag as I tossed it towards the trees across the road. Grenades continued to boom around me, and I couldn't tell if it was our guys throwing them, or theirs. All I knew is that fourth of July was happening on top of me and I wasn't sure if I was going to piss myself. Then, it was done. The pungent odor of blown explosive hung low in the air, but the explosions stopped, and it was quiet again.

I belly crawled along a ditch on our side of the road for maybe ten or fifteen meters, then made my way to some large rocks on the other side. Shouldering my rifle, I peered around them, scanning the forest for any signs of enemies. I saw a few figures, prone in the dirt among the trees, and promptly put a few rounds into each of them. The figures did not react however, and it instead looked like I had shot bags of sand... A sign that these men were dead before I had shot them. Casualties of the grenade engagement no doubt. The were no others anywhere close to us, so I ran across the road, again, and crawled back towards the observation post.

The scene had changed dramatically now. Men were panicking and bleeding and injured. The commander was babbling about an immediate evac. It was a mess. The guy who found me in the woods, lets call him Jon, said we needed to get the fuck out of there, and I obviously agreed wholeheartedly. Within moments a chopper was touching down on the road nearby the OP. It kicked out its soldiers, and took on the wounded and the high-rollers of the command team. The last thing the commander said to us was "good luck" as he disappeared into his headset and took off. What an asshole.

Stuff was moving so fast, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. Still in the rotor wash of the helo, I walked up to the squad leader of the soldiers who disembarked the helicopter. In the most casual voice I could muster, I asked him if myself and Jon could join him, since we were recently abandoned here. Want to take a guess at what we were met with?

"Fuck off".

Fucker.

Jon looked to me, I shrugged, and he suggested we go off on our own. Following his lead, we went off into the very same woods he found me in.

I have since been a little disoriented, you know, falling out of a helicopter and all. I still didn't have my bearings for directions, and while following Jon I didn't even realize we were heading backwards, back in the direction I came from the barn. The direction I just RAN like two or three klicks to get here, not even an hour ago. Thinking back on it now, the fact that it was dark when I hit the ground, and that I didn't really know the countryside that well is probably what lead to the confusion. Regardless, we were about to walk into the thick of it.

After maybe fifteen or twenty minutes of milling around, going through treelines and crossing an awfully familiar field, we found ourselves in a copse of trees overlooking some barns to our east. Moments after settling in, we realized there was a squad of friendly soldiers dug in not even a hundred meters ahead of us. They noticed us around the same time we noticed them, and much to our surprise, they sent a runner to link up with us! We watched as someone broke away from the line, and crouched through the trees to us. Lo and behold, it was Sergeant Fuck Off and his squad.

We were less than thrilled, but we then found out what he was watching, and why he wanted us. Those barns he was watching had enemy in them, and a lot of them. Now that he was outnumbered, the ungrateful prick wanted our help. Being just a crew chief, the thrills of the infantry are a rare treat. Hell yeah I was in.

First he tried to call in close air support on the barns. One was a squat, two and a half story white building with a red roof and two big blue doors on either side, kind of like your stereotypical barn. The other was a one story brown building about the size of half a football field, and half as wide. When the air strike came in, it only struck the brown building, of which its roof promptly caved in. Then something unexpected happened; the building exploded. Partially at least.

When they eventually cleared the area, they discovered a bunch of burned up jeeps in the twisted wood and girders of the collapsed building. Apparently the enemy was stashing their jeeps there to keep them hidden. Any of this starting to sound familiar? If so, you're one step ahead of me, because in the moment I had yet to put two and two together.

The second building, the white one with the red roof, stood mainly intact. There was a hole in the roof, but the bigger problem was what lay inside... All the enemies who survived the attack. There was at least ten, maybe fifteen of them.

According to Sun Tzu and his Art of War, an attacker should engage his enemy with a three to one advantage, to offset the advantage that a defender has. We were going to do it one to one. Someone needed to take point though, and my moment of weakness earlier still hung like a badge of shame on my chest. Not only did I volunteer to lead the way to the compound, but I also said I would be the first to go in. I never made it that far.

As I approached the barn with the squad behind me, I head voices inside. Some angry, some scared, some devoid of all emotion. They had accents, but I we clearly spoke the same language, and I could understand them for the most part. It was here that I made another critical mistake, I thought I could end this without any bloodshed. I curled my fingers into a fist, the signal for everyone to halt, and I approached the barn alone.

"Hello!" I yelled. "Can any of you hear me?"

A voice yelled back,
"Yes, what do you want?"

My reply was simple. I offered them a surrender. I told them our forces had the building surrounded, and we were prepared to level it just like we did the other barn. I said that we didn't need to resort to killing, and we could all make it out of this alive.

All I heard in response was "Fuck you!"

Man was I tired of that fucking word today.

Jon decided to breach the building with me. We were going to throw a stun grenade in the opposite door, provided by the squad we had linked up with. I would go in, then he would continue on the other side, followed by the rest of the members of our newly formed squad. At the time, we didn't realize just how many people were still capable of fighting back.

Flash. Bang. Just like its name, the grenade went off. I stepped in the door, brought my old rifle to my shoulder, and immediately got punched in the chest. I turned, fell outside the door and blacked out.

That's it. I got shot and passed out. Jon died clearing the building, and the rest of the guys decided not to enter. They dragged me back to the treeline and called in another air strike on the building, leveling it completely.

So much for avoiding bloodshed.

title: [RF] The Day I Almost Died Pt 2

question: What does the story say about Jon?

answer: He's the one who stumbled upon the narrator when investigating the noises coming from a forest around a radio tower on the top of a mountain. After the narrator is back at camp, they get attacked. A helicopter comes to take the wounded, offloading a squad. The narrator and Jon team up after the squad's leader refuses to take them. They head off into the forest Jon found the narrator in and encounter the squad that refused to take them. This time, the squad is trying to overcome an enemy group that's far more numerous than them, and so the commander takes Jon and the narrator for help. The enemy is inside two buildings, a smaller white one and a larger brown one. An airstrike takes out the larger building. Then, Jon and the narrator approach the smaller one. The narrator offers the enemy the option of surrender, which they refuse. Jon and the narrator try to assault the building on their own, and Jon dies during the skirmish.

question: What are the casualties mentioned in the story?

answer: The narrator is found after an emergency plane landing and brought to a campsite. They get attacked after a little while with lots of explosions. The narrator also engages the enemy with grenades. Eventually, there are lots of dead soldiers around. The narrator and Jon team up with a squad in the forest, and they call an airstrike on an enemy building, leveling it and destroying anyone inside. The narrator assaults another building with enemy soldiers inside with Jon after they refuse to surrender, and Jon dies in the assault. The narrator is carried out alive by the squad, who all escape instead of engaging.

question: What are the hopeful situations mentioned in the story?

answer: The narrator fell out of a plane that lands in an emergency situation without crashing. He's then found by a friendly soldier, Jon. After an attack in the camp, the narrator and Jon team up with a squad to engage enemies squatting in two buildings. One of them gets leveled by an airstrike. The narrator and Jon approach the other, and the narrator hopes to avoid bloodshed; he offers the option of surrendering to the enemy. However, they refuse.

question: What does the text say about the psychological horrors of war?


text:
Banal Appreciations of Democracy

If there's one thing that Rob Ford's temporary removal from office has taught me, it is that so many pundits believe that a crude notion of democracy is the highest good. _[For those readers outside of Toronto or Canada, Rob Ford is the conservative mayor of this city who was ordered to leave office at the end of 2012 due to a breach in conflict of interest but who was reinstated at the end of January after winning his appeal.]_ That is, there is often this a priori assumption that an unqualified notion of democracy––based only on the electoral equation of _50% + 1_––is the most important moral value, and it is this value that separates capitalist democracies from all the terrible "totalitarianisms" that we have been taught to fear as evil and undemocratic.

Directly following the 2011 court decision that was intended to push Ford out of office (he spent municipal money on the football team he coaches, then he voted to uphold this decision in council after being warned that this would violate the conflict of interest by-laws), innumerable columnists and liberal commentators began complaining about how "democracy was violated" by this decision.  What was most amusing was the predominant tendency to qualify this fear of democratic violation with a banal "I am Rob Ford's biggest critic, but…" or "I despise Ford's politics, but still…" and a whole host of attempts to argue that, while me might not agree with Ford's politics, we can at least agree that he was voted into office by the people and that his removal by a court of law undermined the will of the people and thus democracy itself!

  ----------------------
  []
  Rob Ford in regalia.
  ----------------------

Leaving aside the fact that a large percentage of Torontonians never bothered to vote for anyone in the first place, or that the anti-Ford liberal vote was itself undermined by a scandal that removed his only real opponent, this uncritical endorsement of democracy has now become such a hallmark of left-liberal discourse that the equivocation _democracy=Good_ has become common sense.  Those of us trained in philosophy might immediately ask what makes democracy "the good", what are the values behind the enshrinement of democracy as "the good", and whether it is possible for democratic practice to violate the very principles upon which it is founded… Here we enter the realm of ethics and value judgments, and it is worth remembering that Plato rejected the equation _democracy=good_ because the democratic practice of _50%+1_ had put his teacher to death.

But forget Plato and his problems with Athenian democracy (especially since his solution was elitist idealism), or what we philosophy mongers have to say about democracy.  It is probably better to focus on the obvious problems resulting from this unqualified appreciation of bourgeois democracy and its ballot box.  Ford was originally ordered to step down because he broke the law, and bourgeois democracy always depends on bourgeois legality––though clearly it can be bent, here and there, for millionaire mayors.  Move beyond legality, though, and into the ethical realm that legality [falsely] claims to honestly represent and the irrationality of this democracy-is-the-highest-good discourse becomes even more evident: if Ford was removed because he was guilty of murdering children would those pundits griping about the violation of "democracy" have defended him?  Would _this_ removal undermine the will of "the people"?  Answer: if the ruling class believes that children should be murdered, then it wouldn't be a moral problem in the first place!  This is not an off-hand statement: the murder of children in work-houses in early industrialism was acceptable, even for bourgeois ideologues such as Mill who endorsed suffragism; and children are murdered in similar work-shops, or annihilated as collateral damage, even today.

In any case, we must wonder at this robotic repetition of the values of bourgeois democracy when it makes no sense even according to the values of the pundits who cannot shut-up about it––because it is hard for me to imagine that these same liberals who complained about Ford's temporary removal out of love for "democracy" would be writing the same columns if he was found guilty of child murder.  Of course none of this should matter: those of us who demand a revolutionary situation think the Fords of the world should be prevented from participating in elections in the first place, that if elections persist they should be based on a different constitution, and that maybe there are other notions of _democracy_ that have nothing to do with multiple parties and ballot boxes.

The fact is that the unqualified _50%+1_, as the general principle of bourgeois democracy, is a problem in and of itself. [Note: when I say general principle, I mean it applies to a _50%+1_ of a popular voting system, a _50%+1_ of parliamentary representatives, or some other particular variant.]  Even the left liberal legal theorist Ronald Dworkin, who was not all interested in endorsing some communist principle of democracy, thought that this equation amounted to demagogy.  In his reply to Patrick Devlin's reactionary appeal to "democracy" as the reason why homosexuality should be illegal (Devlin argued, to put it simply, that since the "majority of people" were "disgusted" by homosexuality this constituted some kind of democratic will and thus it was moral to keep it illegal––not that he ever went out and polled the masses to verify this appeal to "democracy"), Dworkin argued that this crude electoral democracy could undermine the democratic principle itself.  After all, a demagogue could convince the people to vote away their right to vote in the first place––just as fascism was voted into government by the people of pre-WW2 Germany––and so to cling to this un-nuanced "will of the people" discourse in the first place was somewhat non-sensical.

Even still, this banal appreciation of democracy remains the refuge of liberal pundits and columnists.  The fact that the electoral circus might be the very space through which fascism emerges is rarely considered: the democratic principle must hold, it is better than chaos, we must defend the "will of the people" when we haven't even bothered to investigate the class composition of the people who vote in the first place!  It's enough that we can count votes, and in the counting decide who has the right to rule and pronounce this right _good_.

_[Just to keep long-time readers "in the know"––and based on popular request––I am in the midst of preparing a new round of "Tao of Mao" comics.  Hopefully the next post will be the first in this limited series.]_

question: What are the author's views on "the will of the people" as a justification for Democracy?

answer: The author notes the tendency of fascist dictatorships to achieve power in a democracy by means of an election. They are thus skeptical of anyone pointing to the will of the people as a justification for any policy or even democracy itself, as this will could be hijacked by a far-right wing nationalist movement in an election or referendum.

question: Summarize the author's arguments about Rob Ford.

answer: The author finds that those who claim that Rob Ford's removal is a violation of democracy confusing. Not only do they argue against those who claim that it goes against the will of the people, when the decision to remove him was legal; they also argue against the very idea of democracy being legitimized by the will of the people.

question: What ideology is it implied the author subscribes to?

answer: The author appears to be a communist or a revolutionary. They talk about a comic they have made called the "Tao of Mao," clearly a reference to both the Tao Te Ching and Mao Tse Chung. They describe themselves as a revolutionary and dismiss democracy as bourgeois. They also are clearly skeptical of far-right wing reactionary movements as well as of the democratic will of the people as being a legitimate form of government, both consistent with Communist or authoritarian leftist ideology.


text:
[HuffPost] [HuffPost]

Top Trump Campaign Official Kimberly Guilfoyle Tests Positive For COVID-19: Reports

Kimberly Guilfoyle, a top Trump campaign official and the girlfriend of Donald Trump Jr., tested positive for COVID-19 on Friday, according to reports by CNN and The New York Times.

Though Guilfoyle was reportedly not experiencing symptoms, she underwent a test in South Dakota as part of a routine testing process for people with contact with the president.

She’d traveled to South Dakota with Trump’s eldest son to attend an Independence Day celebration held at the Mount Rushmore National Memorial. The president and First Lady Melania Trump, as well as Trump’s second son Eric Trump, attended the event. It appeared that Guilfoyle did not end up attending.

[Donald Trump Jr. and Kimberly Guilfoyle on ABC's "The View" last year.]
The Times, citing a person familiar with Guilfoyle’s condition, said neither she nor Trump Jr. traveled to South Dakota aboard Air Force One. The couple did not meet up with Trump’s entourage, the source added, and planned to drive back to the East Coast after receiving her diagnosis.

Sergio Gor, chief of staff for the Trump Victory Finance Committee, on which Guilfoyle serves as national chair, told the Times in a statement that Guilfoyle “was immediately isolated to limit any exposure” following her diagnosis and would be retested.

Gor added that both Guilfoyle and Trump Jr., who tested negative, were canceling upcoming public events.

Multiple people close to the president have now tested positive for the coronavirus in recent months. Trump’s personal valet and Vice President Mike Pence’s press secretaryboth tested positive for the virus in May.

Last month, several staffers who worked on Trump’s Tulsa, Oklahoma, rally also tested positive for the virus.

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question: Who in the Trump administration tested positive for Covid-19?

answer: Kimberly Guilfoyle, a top Trump campaign official and girlfriend of Donald Trump Jr.

question: Did this person have contact with the president after testing positive?

answer: No, after receiving the positive test result, she did not travel on Air Force One. Guilfoyle and Trump Jr decided to drive back to the East Coast.

question: Why was this person tested for Covid-19?

answer: As part of a routine testing process for people routinely in contact with the president.

question: Which event were they set to attend with the president?

answer: An Independence Day celebration at the Mount Rushmore National Memorial.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Kimberly Guilfoyle, Donald Trump Jr.'s girlfriend, tested positive for Covid-19 after a routine test. After receiving the result she did not have contact with the president and drove back to the East Coast with Trump Jr.


text:
ROOSEVELT COUNTY is a county located in the U.S. state of New Mexico. As of the 2010 census, the population was 19,846.[1] Its county seat is Portales.[2] The county was created in 1903 from Chaves and Guadalupe counties and named for President Theodore Roosevelt. The county's eastern border is the Texas state line.

Roosevelt County comprises the Portales, NM Micropolitan Statistical Area, which is also included in the Clovis–Portales, NM Combined Statistical Area.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (0.3%) is water.[3]

Adjacent counties

-   Curry County - north
-   Quay County - north
-   De Baca County - west
-   Chaves County - west
-   Lea County - south
-   Cochran County, Texas - southeast
-   Bailey County, Texas - east

National protected area

-   Grulla National Wildlife Refuge (part)

Demographics

2000 census

As of the 2000 census,[4] there were 18,018 people, 6,639 households, and 4,541 families living in the county.The population density was 7 people per square mile (3/km²).There were 7,746 housing units at an average density of 3 per square mile (1/km²).The racial makeup of the county was 74.14% White, 1.65% Black or African American, 1.10% Native American, 0.62% Asian, 0.07% Pacific Islander, 19.76% from other races, and 2.65% from two or more races.33.29% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.

There were 6,639 households, out of which 35.50% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 53.00% were married couples living together, 11.70% had a female householder with no husband present, and 31.60% were non-families. 24.70% of all households were made up of individuals, and 9.10% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older.The average household size was 2.60 and the average family size was 3.14.

In the county, the population was spread out, with 28.10% under the age of 18, 16.00% from 18 to 24, 25.50% from 25 to 44, 18.30% from 45 to 64, and 12.10% who were 65 years of age or older.The median age was 30 years. For every 100 females there were 96.50 males.For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 93.50 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $26,586, and the median income for a family was $31,813. Males had a median income of $26,170 versus $20,684 for females. The per capita income for the county was $14,185.About 17.30% of families and 22.70% of the population were below the poverty line, including 25.10% of those under age 18 and 16.80% of those age 65 or over.

2010 census

As of the 2010 census, there were 19,846 people, 7,299 households, and 4,671 families living in the county.[5] The population density was . There were 8,163 housing units at an average density of .[6] The racial makeup of the county was 76.9% white, 1.8% black or African American, 1.3% American Indian, 0.9% Asian, 15.9% from other races, and 3.2% from two or more races. Those of Hispanic or Latino origin made up 39.9% of the population.[7] In terms of ancestry, 12.7% were German, 10.0% were American, 9.8% were English, and 9.3% were Irish.[8]

Of the 7,299 households, 35.6% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 47.3% were married couples living together, 11.7% had a female householder with no husband present, 36.0% were non-families, and 28.3% of all households were made up of individuals. The average household size was 2.57 and the average family size was 3.20. The median age was 29.7 years.[9]

The median income for a household in the county was $37,762 and the median income for a family was $43,536. Males had a median income of $37,719 versus $21,916 for females. The per capita income for the county was $16,933. About 16.0% of families and 22.8% of the population were below the poverty line, including 25.6% of those under age 18 and 14.3% of those age 65 or over.[10]

Government and politics

The Roosevelt County clerk and deputy clerk resigned in late 2013 after the New Mexico Supreme Court ruled that all counties in the state must license same-sex marriages. County Manager Bill Cathey said they had resolved to quit “rather than be associated with that,” according to the Associated Press.[11]

  Year                               Republican                                         Democratic                                         Third parties
  ---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ---------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |'''65.3% ''' _3,884_   style=“text-align:center;” |24.4% _1,454_          10.3% _612_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |'''67.7% ''' _4,043_   style=“text-align:center;” |28.9% _1,727_          3.3% _199_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |'''64.2% ''' _4,311_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.3% _2,303_          1.6% _106_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |'''70.0% ''' _4,997_   style=“text-align:center;” |29.1% _2,082_          0.9% _65_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |'''66.6% ''' _3,762_   style=“text-align:center;” |31.2% _1,762_          2.2% _127_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |'''55.3% ''' _3,245_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.7% _2,097_          9.0% _527_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |'''49.4% ''' _3,215_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.4% _2,172_          17.3% _1,126_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |'''63.2% ''' _3,589_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.8% _2,033_          1.0% _59_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |'''72.3% ''' _4,598_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.7% _1,696_          1.1% _69_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |'''60.9% ''' _3,950_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.6% _2,240_          4.5% _294_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |'''50.9% ''' _3,269_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.4% _3,111_          0.8% _49_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |'''73.0% ''' _4,727_   style=“text-align:center;” |24.9% _1,612_          2.1% _134_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |'''58.1% ''' _3,256_   style=“text-align:center;” |27.6% _1,547_          14.3% _800_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |48.5% _2,732_          style=“text-align:center;” |'''51.0% ''' _2,875_   0.5% _27_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |'''69.6% ''' _4,039_   style=“text-align:center;” |30.3% _1,761_          0.1% _4_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |'''54.6% ''' _2,708_   style=“text-align:center;” |45.3% _2,247_          0.2% _8_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |'''56.7% ''' _3,030_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.0% _2,298_          0.2% _12_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |23.5% _956_            style=“text-align:center;” |'''75.8% ''' _3,087_   0.8% _32_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |40.6% _1,610_          style=“text-align:center;” |'''59.4% ''' _2,359_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |30.2% _1,384_          style=“text-align:center;” |'''69.5% ''' _3,190_   0.4% _16_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |17.6% _677_            style=“text-align:center;” |'''76.6% ''' _2,951_   5.9% _227_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |14.0% _475_            style=“text-align:center;” |'''83.0% ''' _2,826_   3.0% _103_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |'''51.1% ''' _1,157_   style=“text-align:center;” |48.5% _1,098_          0.4% _9_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |19.5% _398_            style=“text-align:center;” |'''65.8% ''' _1,340_   14.7% _299_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |31.4% _571_            style=“text-align:center;” |'''64.8% ''' _1,178_   3.7% _68_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |15.6% _230_            style=“text-align:center;” |'''73.6% ''' _1,088_   10.9% _161_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |8.8% _107_             style=“text-align:center;” |'''49.3% ''' _599_     41.8% _508_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[12]

Communities

City

-   Portales (county seat)

Town

-   Elida

Villages

-   Causey
-   Dora
-   Floyd

Unincorporated communities

-   Cameo
-   Kenna
-   Milnesand
-   Pep

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

title: Roosevelt County, New Mexico

question: What does the article say about Roosevelt County's demographic in 2015?

question: What does the article say about Roosevelt County's economy?

answer: As of the 2000 census, the median income for a household in the county was $26,586, and the median income for a family was $31,813. The per capita income was $14,185. About 17.30% of families and 22.70% of the population were below the poverty line.

question: What does the article say about Roosevelt County's households structure?

answer: As of the 2000 census, there were 6,639 households, out of which 35.50% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 53.00% were married couples living together, 11.70% had a female householder with no husband present, and 31.60% were non-families. The average household size was 2.60 and the average family size was 3.14.

question: What does the story say about Roosevelt County's government and politics?

answer: The Roosevelt County clerk and deputy clerk resigned in late 2013 after the New Mexico Supreme Court ruled that all counties in the state must license same-sex marriages because they did not want to be involved in that.


text:
JANET WELCH MACKIE (March 2, 1894 – November 24, 1959) was an English doctor who worked mainly in East Africa and the United States. Her work, research and published material helped in establishing modern healthcare and nursing practices in the developing world. From 1926 until 1938 she worked as a medical missionary with the Church of Scotland, working mostly in Blantyre in modern day Malawi. In 1942 she emigrated to the United States. In 1946 she became an assistant professor at the Bowman Gray Medical School in North Carolina and eventually went on to become a medical consultant to the United States Public Health Service and World Health Organisation.

Early life

[Janet Welch's sketch of the prize giving at Nottingham Girls High School, England in November 1913] Janet Welch was born in March 1894[1] in the village of North Rauceby in Lincolnshire, England. She was the second daughter of William and Alice. William Welch was a farmer, as his father and grandfather had been. Janet’s mother also came from a farming family near Southwell in Nottinghamshire.

Welch attended Sleaford High School until 1908 when her family moved to take over the Hall Farm in Thoroton, Nottinghamshire and, she transferred to Nottingham Girls High School.[2] In her final year at the school she was head girl. Welch chronicled her final 2 years at school (1913 and early 1914) in a series of ink sketches, noting events both in and out of school.[3]

First World War

In the summer of 1915, Welch joined a Voluntary Aid Detachment. As a VAD, Welch worked as an assistant to professional nurses, first of all at St Dunstan’s Hostel for Blinded Soldiers and Sailors at Regent’s Park in London and later at the 3rd General London Hospital in Wandsworth.[4] She kept diaries of her time in both hospitals, although only a few fragmentary pages of the diary from Wandsworth have survived. In her diaries, she comments on many of the aspects of life, the people she met and what was going on around her, rather than writing specifically about her work.[5] Janet's diaries from both this period and her schooldays and this wartime period were published in full in 2019.[6]

Medical career

Africa

In October 1919, Welch enrolled at the London School of Medicine for Women. She graduated MB, BS in 1926.[7] The School of Medicine had by then become part of the Royal Free Hospital in London.

Welch entered the Church of Scotland Missionary Service on September 16, 1926 and by November of that year she was registered as a medical practitioner in Nairobi, Kenya.[8] By 1928 Welch had moved south to Nyasaland (modern day Malawi), where she joined the staff of the Church of Scotland Hospital in Blantyre.

During her time in Africa, Welch established a strong reputation for herself. She was described by various commentators as enthusiastic, energetic and of having a passion and gift for welfare work. In particular she worked with local women to educate them in nursing and midwifery practice. In July 1930, she returned to London for post graduate studies at the London School of Tropical Medicine,[9] graduating with the second highest mark in her class in the spring of 1931 before returning to her post in Blantyre.

In the 1936 New Year Honours she was awarded an MBE for _‘services in connection with maternal and child welfare in the Nyasaland Protectorate’_[10] and during that year she became the president of the Nyasaland Branch of the British Medical Association.[11]

In October 1938, Welch sailed back to England, left the missionary service and embarked on the next stage of her career. In 1939 she was the recipient of a grant from the New York based Carnegie Foundation[12] to study and report on developments in nursing. In October 1939 Welch left Liverpool by sea for New York.[13]

America

Welch worked in New York for several months, living at the address of her future husband Thomas T. Mackie on Park Avenue before sailing in June 1940 to Puerto Rico. Her destination in Puerto Rico was the School of Tropical Medicine in San Juan.

In 1941 Welch published a booklet, _Nursing Education related to the Cultural Background in East and Southeast African Colonies._

Welch returned to England briefly during late 1941, leaving again on February 20, 1942 on board the SS Aircrest in an Atlantic convoy.[14] She entered the United States on March 2, and married Thomas Mackie on March 14.[15]

As the Second World War intensified, Janet's husband was called into service. He served as a doctor with the rank of Colonel, in the US Army in South East Asia. Welch in the meantime continued to work in the US, publishing further booklets, including, _Notes on the Techniques of Elementary Public Health Education_ in 1943 and contributing to publications such as The American Journal of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene: _Adaptation of Public Health Practice to Foreign Cultures_ in 1944 and the American Journal of Nursing: _Nursing in Other American Republics_, 1945. She travelled widely in Latin America during that time working for the US Office of the Coordinator for Inter-American Affairs. There is at least one reference to her also working with Walt Disney on the series of public health and safety films that the studio produced during that time.

Reunited following the end of the war, Janet and Thomas were offered the opportunity to head up a new department at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine in Winston Salem, North Carolina. She took up the post of assistant professor of preventive medicine in the spring of 1946.[16] [Janet Welch Mackie in her early 50s when she was assistant professor of preventive medicine at Winston Salem in North Carolina] Janet, became a US citizen in 1948.[17] In 1952, she left the school and became a medical consultant to the US Public Health Service. Continuing to live in Winston Salem, Welch worked out of Washington DC, but she worked around the world, with developing communities both within and outside the US. She is recorded as having been a US Public Health Service adviser in Thailand (1954) as well as with native American communities in the southwestern United States, Alaska and Hawaii.

By 1953, she was also a consultant to a World Health Organisation expert committee in Geneva.

Welch retired from the US Public Health Service in 1958, at the age of 64. She continued to work with the WHO. however, contributing to several publications and reports.

She also contributed a major section to the National Academy of Sciences publication _Tropical Health_ which was published posthumously in 1962.

Janet Welch died on November 24, 1959.[18][19] She was waiting to board a train at Washington Union Station in Washington DC, heading home to Winston-Salem when she suffered a fatal heart attack. She was buried at the Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington DC.

Personal life

She met her future husband Thomas Mackie at the London School of Medicine in 1930/31 when both were carrying out post graduate studies there. They were divorced in December 1951.

[1] Nottingham Girls High School. Registers

[2] Nottingham Girls High School. Registers and records.

[3] The Diary of Janet Welch. Steven Berryman. Pub. Skybox 2019

[4] Red Cross Record Card, Janet Welch

[5] The Diary of Janet Welch. Steven Berryman. Pub. Skybox 2019

[6] The Diary of Janet Welch. Steven Berryman. Pub. Skybox 2019

[7] University of London Graduates List 1926

[8] Kenya Gazette, December 1, 1926

[9] London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine registers and student records

[10] London Gazette, January 1, 1936

[11] British Medical Journal, December 19, 1959

[12] Inventory of the Carnegie Corporation of New York Records, Page 324

[13] SS Scythia, Passenger Manifest October 1939

[14] SS Aircrest, Passenger Manifest. February 1942

[15] United States Petition for Naturalization. 1948

[16] Letter from CC Carpenter, Dean of the Bowman Gray School of Medicine. April 15, 1946

[17] United States Petition for Naturalization. 1948

[18]

[19]

title: Janet Welch

question: What does the article say about Janet's husband?

answer: Welch lived at the address of her future husband Thomas T. Mackie while working in New York. Thomas was called into service during the Second World War and served as a doctor with the rank of Colonel. After the war, they were both offered the opportunity to head up a new department at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine in Winston Salem, North Carolina. Janet met Thomas at the London School of Medicine in 1930/31. They divorced in December 1951.

question: What does the article say about Janet's career during the 1960s?


text:
Air left her nostrils it short, sad bursts. Water poured from her eyes like a river, streaking back and forth across her cheeks. I wanted to wipe them away, yet my hand remained frozen to my side. My own eyes began to cloud as I blinked them back inside. Remaining strong was my only option at this point, there was no turning back.

Her fingers gripped her hair like she was ripping a flower from its roots, knuckles whitened from the grasp. Mouth agape, she attempted at words, but none came to her. Her sighs came heavy and quickened as her closed eyes spewed tears. Lips quivered as she muttered a single syllable, "Why..."

I didn't quite know at the time. At this point, I don't know if I ever will. One of the last words I heard from her was a word of despair, a word I couldn't even fathom a response to.

My gaze was locked upon her, she was beautiful, even in this moment of despair. It's you, it's me, it didn't matter who, or what, or why, or how. No one knew the answer to any of these questions, least of all me. I swallowed the knot in my throat one more time and looked up at the door behind her. Scratches at the bottom from where her dog had begged for freedom, paint scraped from the egg shell white wood left a softer yellow look.

Time slowed as I got up and made my way across the room. Her sighs became screams, and from despair grew anger. I heard the screech of the chair as she turned to me, "What the fuck is wrong with me!" Her shouting sent shivers down my spine, but not from fear. Regret wouldn't describe it either, because I don't regret it, it was a shiver of understanding the feeling of not knowing where you belong in this world.

I didn't answer, there was no answer.

I left.

title: (RF) Finding me

question: Who is the narrator referring to?

answer: The title implies the narrator is referring to herself.

question: Why is she crying?

answer: Because the narrator is leaving her behind.

question: Did she abuse her dog?

answer: Information can't be found.

question: Where did he leave her?

answer: In her bedroom.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator leaves "her" behind. She screams in despair.