text:
CRAVEN COUNTY is located in the U.S. state of North Carolina. As of the 2010 Census, the population was 103,505.[1] Its county seat is New Bern.[2] The county was created in 1705 as Archdale Precinct from the now-extinct Bath County. It was renamed Craven Precinct in 1712 and gained county status in 1739.[3][4] It is named for William, Earl of Craven, who lived from 1606 to 1697.

Craven County is part of the New Bern, NC, Metropolitan Statistical Area.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (8.4%) is water.[5]

National protected area

-   Croatan National Forest (part)

Adjacent counties

-   Pitt County - north
-   Beaufort County - north
-   Pamlico County - east
-   Carteret County - south
-   Jones County - west
-   Lenoir County - west

Major highways

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Demographics

As of the census[6] of 2000, there were 91,436 people, 34,582 households, and 25,071 families residing in the county. The population density was 129 people per square mile (50/km²). There were 38,150 housing units at an average density of 54 per square mile (21/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 69.94% White, 25.12% Black or African American, 0.42% Native American, 0.99% Asian, 0.06% Pacific Islander, 1.78% from other races, and 1.68% from two or more races. 4.02% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.

There were 34,582 households, out of which 33.30% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 56.80% were married couples living together, 12.50% had a female householder with no husband present, and 27.50% were non-families. 23.40% of all households were made up of individuals, and 8.90% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.50 and the average family size was 2.93.

In the county, the population was spread out, with 24.60% under the age of 18, 12.80% from 18 to 24, 27.90% from 25 to 44, 21.20% from 45 to 64, and 13.40% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 34 years. For every 100 females there were 101.90 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 101.50 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $35,966, and the median income for a family was $42,574. Males had a median income of $28,163 versus $21,412 for females. The per capita income for the county was $18,423. About 9.90% of families and 13.10% of the population were below the poverty line, including 18.50% of those under age 18 and 11.00% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

[Map of Craven County, North Carolina With Municipal and Township Labels]

Cities

-   Havelock
-   New Bern (county seat)

Towns

-   Bridgeton
-   Cove City
-   Dover
-   River Bend
-   Trent Woods
-   Vanceboro

Census-designated places

-   Brices Creek
-   Fairfield Harbour
-   James City
-   Neuse Forest

Other unincorporated communities

-   Adams Creek
-   Cherry Branch
-   Ernul
-   Fort Barnwell
-   Harlowe

Politics, law and government

Craven is a typical “Solid South” county in its presidential voting patterns. It was solidly Democratic until the 1960s: in five elections from 1932 to 1948 the Republican Party did not reach fifteen percent of the vote, and only in 1928 when a large anti-Catholic vote was cast against Al Smith did the GOP reach twenty percent between at least 1912 and 1948. The national Democratic party's support for the Civil Rights Movement caused its white electorate to defect to George Wallace’s American Independent campaign in 1968. After that, Craven has become a strongly Republican county. The last Democrat to carry Craven County was Jimmy Carter in 1976.

  Year                               REPUBLICAN                                   DEMOCRATIC                                   THIRD PARTIES
  ---------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2020   style=“text-align:center;” |58.5% _31,032_   style=“text-align:center;” |39.9% _21,148_   1.7% _885_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |59.0% _27,731_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.5% _17,630_   3.5% _1,640_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |58.3% _26,928_   style=“text-align:center;” |40.6% _18,763_   1.0% _479_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |55.8% _24,901_   style=“text-align:center;” |43.4% _19,352_   0.8% _345_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |62.4% _23,575_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.1% _14,019_   0.4% _162_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |61.0% _19,494_   style=“text-align:center;” |38.2% _12,213_   0.9% _278_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |52.7% _13,264_   style=“text-align:center;” |41.0% _10,317_   6.4% _1,610_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |45.8% _11,575_   style=“text-align:center;” |39.5% _9,998_    14.7% _3,714_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |62.1% _12,057_   style=“text-align:center;” |37.7% _7,313_    0.2% _47_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |64.0% _12,893_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.7% _7,186_    0.3% _55_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |51.0% _8,554_    style=“text-align:center;” |46.4% _7,781_    2.7% _448_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |43.4% _5,881_    style=“text-align:center;” |55.8% _7,553_    0.8% _109_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |78.7% _9,372_    style=“text-align:center;” |20.0% _2,384_    1.2% _147_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |21.8% _2,991_    style=“text-align:center;” |30.9% _4,240_    47.4% _6,509_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |38.7% _4,691_    style=“text-align:center;” |61.3% _7,422_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |34.0% _3,680_    style=“text-align:center;” |66.1% _7,158_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |31.9% _2,956_    style=“text-align:center;” |68.1% _6,317_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |31.7% _2,822_    style=“text-align:center;” |68.3% _6,092_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |11.9% _745_      style=“text-align:center;” |80.3% _5,039_    7.9% _494_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |14.5% _826_      style=“text-align:center;” |85.5% _4,872_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |11.3% _626_      style=“text-align:center;” |88.7% _4,916_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |7.6% _453_       style=“text-align:center;” |92.4% _5,543_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |9.6% _466_       style=“text-align:center;” |90.0% _4,375_    0.4% _19_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |47.3% _2,237_    style=“text-align:center;” |52.7% _2,494_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |9.8% _325_       style=“text-align:center;” |88.9% _2,942_    1.3% _44_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |17.6% _731_      style=“text-align:center;” |82.4% _3,413_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |23.3% _542_      style=“text-align:center;” |76.7% _1,780_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |3.8% _79_        style=“text-align:center;” |87.1% _1,819_    9.1% _190_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[7]

Craven County is a member of the regional Eastern Carolina Council of Governments.

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[2]

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[6]

[7]

title: Craven County, North Carolina

question: List all the communities in Craven County.

answer: Havelock, New Bern, Bridgeton, Cove City, Dover, River Bend, Trent Woods, Vanceboro, Brices Creek, Fairfield Harbour, James City, Neuse Forest, Adams Creek, Cherry Branch, Ernul, Fort Barnwell, Harlowe.

question: What are the counties adjacent to Craven county?

answer: To the north are located Pitt County and Beaufort County. To the east is Pamlico County. To the south is Carteret County, and to the west are Jones County and Lenoir County.

question: Summarize Craven County's politics.

answer: Craven has been called a "Solid South" county. It was solidly Democratic until the 1960s. The Republican party rarely reached fifteen percent of the vote. The Democratic party's support for the Civil Rights Movement caused its white electorate to defect to the Republicans. The last Democrat the county voted for was Jimmy Carter in 1976. The racial makeup of the county is 69.94% White, and 25.12% Black.


split: test

text:
*Preface: I was reading a lot of Bukowski a the time.*

“What’s up?” She questioned me.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” I said without looking.

I felt a cold presence in her stare.

“Feeling happy?”

“Not yet, get over here.”

“No…you let go.”

Over the past fifteen years she gained a whole lot of weight. I was more attracted to her sister. I decided to call her sister that night. When we first met she was seeing this guy name Phil. I think they got married. Her name was Angela.

”Angela,” I said into the phone.

”Uh, who is this?”

“It’s Joe.” She was trying me.

“Oh, how are you?”

“Good. Listen, I need a good nut.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Does Phil give it to your hard? Does he fuck you good?”

“Not like he used to. How’s your marriage?”

“Your sister has seen better times.”

“So is that what you do? You just move on when you don’t feel like it anymore? When it’s not there?”

“Life is a constant game of recycling.”

“Recycled condoms and used-up memories,” she said.

“My brain has enough of those.”

She sighed heavily into the phone.

“Can I come over at 8?” I asked.

“Ok well I just have to do the dishes first.”

“Ok, I’ll come at 8. See you later.” I hung up.

My wife was standing in the kitchen staring at the empty jar of jelly.

”Did you ever wonder how much power goes into making a glass jar?” She asked.

“I never thought about it.” I said. I went to the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice. I finished it, drinking from the spout. “I’ll be back later, I need to get a few things from the store.”

She walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

Angela was waiting at 7:55pm. I was there five minutes early. She was wearing a nightgown. The sidewalk in front of her building had no crab grass growing out of it. The door-knob was tarnished. I saw her standing in the window looking down but I knocked anyway.

She opened the door.

“Hello Angela.”

“Hey Joe.”

I leaned in to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around me. I did her right there on the floor. We moved to the couch when she complained of back pain.

She lit a cigarette. She lit mine for me.

There was a painting on the wall.

“I don’t get that painting on the wall. What is that supposed to be?” I asked.

“It’s Schubert,” she said, “it’s about a girl who lost her shoes.”

“Lost her shoes that’s a hell of a thing to paint about,” I replied honestly.

“Well, you should get going. Phil will be home soon.”

”You were a great fuck, you know that?” I told her.

“I know.”

“Well, I’ll call you soon.”

“Yes, Joe.”

I walked back home. It was a short walk. When I got home my wife was asleep. I watched TV on the couch until I passed out.

title: [RF] Recycled Goods

question: What was the painting about?

answer: The painting is known as Schubert. It is about a girl who has lost her shoes.

question: Why was the narrator cheating on his spouse?

question: Do Angela and Joe plan to continue their affair?

answer: Yes, they do plan on continuing their affair.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was certain someone had seen me fall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” She quirked an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are near the village called Gembloux.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We are.” she nodded proudly.

“How did you know I needed your help?”

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

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

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

I said nothing.

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

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

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

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

...to be continued.

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

question: Summarize the encounter between Lt. Doyle's team and the German Luftwaffe fighters.

answer:
It was a routine mission for the 579th Squadron. It was a cold and rainy afternoon in England and the attack started not long after the narrator dropped his payload on his target in Germany and was returning to England with his squadron which included Lt. Doyle's team. The team came under heavy fire from the Luftwaffe fighters.
The head of the formation was lost and the bomber at the back of the team also lost its pilots. The aircraft on the left was split into two by a small explosion. Lt. Doyle tried his best to maneuver his team out of the rain clouds while evading the fighters. The team struggled to hold on for 20 minutes but the Luftwaffe ended up taking out the last of the team's tail gunners before the narrator bailed out, fearing the rest of his team dead.

question: Summarize the narrator's (Arthur Kemp's) impression of Lysistrata of the Belgian Resistance Movement.

answer:
Kemp noticed a slight accent when Liss spoke, but was unable to place it as her English was excellent. She was wearing summer sandals with white sun dress that has a blue flower pattern on it while holding a SMG. Kemp noticed she was gorgeous.

Liss was angry when Kemp wouldn't reveal his name. She chided him for being ungrateful. Kemp finally relented as they exchange names. Liss was also excited when Kemp displayed little knowledge of Belgian history. She was not confident about getting Kemp back to England on time.

question: Did Lt. Doyle's team leave a telltale trail that led the Luftwaffe fighters to them?


text:
FC TYTAN ARMIANSK (; ) was a football club based in Armiansk, Autonomous Republic of Crimea. The club last played in the Persha Liha during the 2013–14 season. The club was dissolved due to annexation of Crimea by the Russian Federation.[1]

Colors are (Home) gold shirts, black shorts. (Away) white shirts, black shorts.

History

The first official name the team received was STROITEL (The Builder) in 1969, although, the team already existed and participated in the regional competitions since 1964, but without a real name. The team began to play its games on some quickly cleared up area for a football(soccer) field. Simultaneously, the construction of a new stadium started as well. The main and only sponsor of the team was a local chemical plant, the director (Vsevolod Stepanov) of which decided to change the name for the team to “Tytan” in 1973. The name was introduced to symbolize the power, in sport as well, of the real giant of chemical industry in the whole southern region of the country. In 1974 the team entered a semi-professional competition. In the same year “Tytan” received at its exploitation a new stadium, “Khimik” (5000 seats). And in 1975 the new unofficial club was founded with its own headquarters and stadium, which included three playing fields and its own swimming pool. The first club president was Stepanov Vsevolod Mykolayovich. The first stadium director became Kohut Ivan Dmytrovich. The first team manager was Basov Herman Nizamovich. The first match at the “Khimik” stadium took place on the Victory Day of 1975 (9 May 1975) “FC Tytan Armiansk”-“Tavriya Simferopol” 2:2 (2 goals for “Tytan” were scored by Anatolij Lebid).

Honours

-   Ukrainian Second League
    -   Winners (1): 2009–10

-   Ukrainian Amateur Cup
    -   Winners (1): 1977

-   Crimea championship
    -   Winners (12): 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979, 1980, 1981, 1983, 1984, 1986, 1988, 1990

-   Crimean Cup
    -   Winners (9): 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979, 1981, 1985, 1987, 1989, 1990

League and cup history

Soviet Union

  “KFK” Zone Groups(semi-professional level)
  -------------------------------------------- ----------
  in 1974 the team placed 5th
  1975—2nd                                     1985—3rd
  1976—1st                                     1986—2nd
  1977—1st                                     1987—4th
  1978—1st                                     1988—4th
  1979—2nd                                     1989—6th
  1980—2nd                                     1990—8th
  1981—2nd                                     1991—1st
  1982—3rd

Ukraine

:{|class=“wikitable” |-bgcolor=“#efefef” ! Season ! Div. ! Pos. ! Pl. ! W ! D ! L ! GS ! GA ! P !Domestic Cup !colspan=2|Europe !Notes |- |align=center|1992 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center bgcolor=silver|2 |align=center|16 |align=center|8 |align=center|5 |align=center|3 |align=center|19 |align=center|10 |align=center|21 |align=center|Did not qualify |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1992–93 |align=center|3rd |align=center|17 |align=center|34 |align=center|10 |align=center|6 |align=center|18 |align=center|42 |align=center|54 |align=center|26 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1993–94 |align=center|3rd |align=center|14 |align=center|42 |align=center|13 |align=center|12 |align=center|17 |align=center|47 |align=center|38 |align=center|38 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1994–95 |align=center|3rd |align=center|6 |align=center|42 |align=center|22 |align=center|10 |align=center|10 |align=center|68 |align=center|36 |align=center|76 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1995–96 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|6 |align=center|38 |align=center|19 |align=center|10 |align=center|9 |align=center|59 |align=center|38 |align=center|67 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1996–97 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center bgcolor=silver|2 |align=center|32 |align=center|17 |align=center|6 |align=center|7 |align=center|51 |align=center|29 |align=center|57 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1997–98 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|8 |align=center|34 |align=center|11 |align=center|9 |align=center|12 |align=center|36 |align=center|36 |align=center|42 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1998–99 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|9 |align=center|26 |align=center|10 |align=center|6 |align=center|10 |align=center|31 |align=center|38 |align=center|36 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|1999-00 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|6 |align=center|26 |align=center|11 |align=center|4 |align=center|11 |align=center|30 |align=center|34 |align=center|37 |align=center|1/8 finals Second League Cup |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2000–01 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|4 |align=center|28 |align=center|14 |align=center|8 |align=center|6 |align=center|38 |align=center|21 |align=center|50 |align=center|1/16 finals forfeit |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2001–02 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|13 |align=center|34 |align=center|10 |align=center|10 |align=center|14 |align=center|32 |align=center|42 |align=center|40 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2002–03 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|12 |align=center|30 |align=center|8 |align=center|5 |align=center|17 |align=center|30 |align=center|48 |align=center|29 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2003–04 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|9 |align=center|30 |align=center|10 |align=center|10 |align=center|10 |align=center|31 |align=center|31 |align=center|40 |align=center|1/16 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2004–05 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|4 |align=center|26 |align=center|13 |align=center|5 |align=center|8 |align=center|44 |align=center|32 |align=center|44 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2005–06 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|10 |align=center|28 |align=center|8 |align=center|9 |align=center|11 |align=center|33 |align=center|39 |align=center|33 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2006–07 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center bgcolor=tan|3 |align=center|28 |align=center|16 |align=center|8 |align=center|4 |align=center|48 |align=center|21 |align=center|56 |align=center|1/8 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2007–08 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center bgcolor=silver|2 |align=center|34 |align=center|22 |align=center|5 |align=center|7 |align=center|74 |align=center|39 |align=center|71 |align=center|1/16 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2008–09 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center|4 |align=center|34 |align=center|19 |align=center|7 |align=center|8 |align=center|55 |align=center|31 |align=center|64 |align=center|1/64 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2009–10 |align=center|3rd “B” |align=center bgcolor=gold|1 |align=center|26 |align=center|21 |align=center|3 |align=center|2 |align=center|50 |align=center|20 |align=center|66 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center bgcolor=green|Promoted |- |align=center|2010–11 |align=center|2nd |align=center|11 |align=center|34 |align=center|13 |align=center|5 |align=center|16 |align=center|32 |align=center|42 |align=center|44 |align=center|1/16 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2011–12 |align=center|2nd |align=center|14 |align=center|34 |align=center|9 |align=center|5 |align=center|20 |align=center|33 |align=center|59 |align=center|32 |align=center|1/16 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2012–13 |align=center|2nd |align=center|12 |align=center|34 |align=center|13 |align=center|9 |align=center|12 |align=center|44 |align=center|40 |align=center|48 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center| |- |align=center|2013–14 |align=center|2nd |align=center|13 |align=center|29 |align=center|9 |align=center|8 |align=center|12 |align=center|32 |align=center|41 |align=center|35 |align=center|1/32 finals |align=center| |align=center| |align=center bgcolor=red|Dissolved[2] |}

Coaches

  ------------------------------------ --- ----------------------------------- --- -----------------------------------
  -   Eduard Fedin (1974–1975)             -   Serhiy Shevchenko (2006–2008)       -   Oleh Leshchynskyi (2012–2013)

  -   Herman Basov (1975–)                 -   Mykola Fedorenko (2008–2012)

  -   Serhiy Kozlov (2001–2004)            -   Serhiy Kozlov (2012)c

  -   Anatoliy Borysenko (2005–2006)       -   Oleksandr Haydash (2012)

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

Notes

[1]

[2]

title: FC Tytan Armiansk

question: Summarize the history of FC Tytan Armiansk before it was resolved by Russia.

answer: FC Tytan Armiansk is a football club based in the Republic of Crimea. Its first official name was Stroitel in 1969 though it competed since 1964 without a real name. Shortly after getting its name, the club started the construction of a stadium. Its acquisition of a local sponsor triggered a name change to Tytan in 1973. In 1974, the team entered a semi-professional competition and the same year completed its stadium which was named Khimik (5000 seats).

question: Why did the Russian Federation dissolve FC Tytan Armiansk with it annexed Crimea?


text:
Teenage love is a complicated thing, it's ups, it's downs, it's everything in between. These words never rang more true than in the case of two 17 year-old kids in a small northern Ontario city. Willie is quiet, some might even say awkward, he stuck to himself mostly, not really interacting with too many people. Then one day everything changed for Willie, it was a Tuesday, April the 13th, 2009. Willie was walking down the hallway in his elementary school with his headphones in as per usual. What happened next was quite the opposite, see, looking at the ground tends to hinder your ability to see what's in front of you, in Willies case, Natasha.
"Oh... Sorry" Said Willie after bumping into Natasha.
"It's okay! Really! Don't worry about it" She said shyly. The talk was small, but the connection was big, the interaction sparked a 2 year long friendship between the two. Going to the beach, building forts, climbing trees, all the things you would expect too see in a grade 9 friendship. But this friendship was different, it blossomed, into a loving relationship between the two. They were inseparable, they shared everything, both of there first kisses were with each other, the loss of their virginity, everything. That brings us to grade 11, Willie and Natasha are still together, as in love as ever. Sickening fellow classmates with their public displays of affections in the hallways and sneaking out at 2am to see each other.
"Hey babe" He kisses Natasha's forehead "What's up?"
"Nothing." Natasha sais as she tries her best to close the door of Willies car."It won't-"
"Lift it upwards a bit, it should go" That car was Willies pride and joy. A hundred dollars at an auction, it's covered in rust, the power windows don’t work, the radio is fuzzy, the heat isn't hot at all, and there's this weird banging noise in the engine, but dammit it's his car.
An uncomfortable amount of time goes by without either of them saying anything before Willie speaks up. He asks her what's wrong, clearly noticing the scared look on her face.
"It's nothing, don’t worry about it" She sais almost inaudibly. Willie takes the hint, not another word is said on the way to school. As Willie approaches the high school the two share he sighs loudly.
"I can't wait to get out of this hell hole" He sais. Chesnutt High was a small high school with about 500 people, it's of medium size and is windowless. More of a prison then a high school really. The teachers there had nothing better to do with their lives then to ruin those of the children it seemed. Your uniform has to be perfectly pressed, men, your shirts must be tucked in, ladies, your skirt must ne no shorter than your knees. No chewing gum, no long hair on men, no yelling, running, skipping, swearing, kissing, backtalking, fighting or cheating to name a few. In reality Natasha resented it more than Willie, she just cannot see the logic in not being able to kiss her beloved boyfriend when and where she pleases.
The two walk hand in hand until they reach the door and get an unenthused "ahem" from the vice-principal. An exchanged glance is enough to make the two erupt in laughter, mush to the digust of the vice-principal.
"You two! Detention at lunch, do you understand me?" Their laughter is silenced, replaced with resentful grunts.
The two go about their mornings as usual, their first class they have together, but the second class they are on opposite sides of the school. Natasha daydreams of her and Willie lying on a beach at sunset, in a two-person hammock, their hands clutched together and their noses touching. Natasha smiles. For a brief moment all of her worries fade and she is living the daydream, she feels the sun beating on her face, she feels the cool ocean breeze, she hears the waves crash and the palm tree leaves scratch against each other, time moves in slow motion as she blinks, her entire vision filled with Willie's caring face.
"I love yo-" The bell sounds, and Natasha is smacked in the face with reality, she's not a beach, she's at school, on her way to an hour long detention she received for being rude. Great, she thought to herself, just great.
She seems Willie leaning on the wall next to the detention room and for a moment she feels the ocean breeze. She walks up to him and grabs his waist.
"You ready for this?" Willie asks with a wink. That was the great thing about Willie. He always knew how to take things in stride, never really having a care in the world. Nonchalant about even the worst situations it seemed. He didn’t shed a single tear when his childhood dog  died, nor did he when his great grandmother passed. He stayed dry-eyed at the memorial day ceremony last year, and doesn't even blink at the commercials with the sad looking puppies in the cages. Willie was not the crying type. Natasha wondered if he was cool enough to handle the situation at hand.
"Handle what?" Willie said curiously, apparently, Natasha's inside voice had leaked into the real world a little without her realizing.
"Huh? Oh, nothing." She laughed nervously. "Let's just go inside." Willie slapped her butt as she walked into the detention room. A larger then normal sized room with nothing on any of the walls but a clock. Three rows of desks and chairs filled the floor space. The two took their seats.
"This room will be your home for the next hour. I will hear no talking, I will see no cellphones, I will see no chewing of the gum. You may not do homework. You may not sleep. You will only sit in your seat and think of what you have done. For one full hour. Starting now."
Tick
Willie holds his hand in front of his face and whispers to Natasha "Are you gonna tell me what's been bugging you all day?" Natasha makes a face that mimicks a lion having his food taken away.
"Not now, for god's sake stopping bugging me"
Tick
 "Why not now? Just tell me!" Willie is getting visibly angry.
"Willie, I'm not going to say this again. Now is not the time. Quit-" Her eyes drift to the teacher standing in the corner staring at her freshly painted nails. "-asking me. Seriously."
"Fine whatever, just sit there and wallow in your  own sadness, see if I give a shit."
Tick
"Babe, just-" Natasha slammed her hand down on the table in a final attempt to silence her thick-headed boyfriend. This was greeted by an amazingly harsh look from the teacher in charge.
"One more sound from you Ms. Dermor and you'll be in here for the rest of the week. Understood?"
Tick
***
The two did not share a word for the rest of the day. As Willie pulls up in front of Natasha's house he finally talks in a somber tone.
"I uh- I have a doctors appointment at 4, I call you afterwards"
"What for?" Natasha asks.
"To talk to you?" Willie makes a funny face in a last ditch effort to see his girlfriend smile today.
" I meant the appointment." Nothing, not even a smirk.
"Oh, I've been getting those really bad headaches again, my moms worried I have a concussion or something"
"Your mom is always worried"
"I know, but I'd rather go and have them tell me it's nothing then listen to her whine and complain all night that I didn’t go." He shrugs is shoulder in his typical 'I couldn’t care less' sort of way. They parted without so much as a kiss.
The rest of the night proves to be an interesting one for Will, when they entered they enter the doctors office, his doctor tells them both to take a seat, unusual, but not concerningly so. The doctor was silent for a long while, much to the annoyance of Willie and his mother.
"This never get's any easier" The doctor said under his breath. Willie's mother asked what he was talking about.
" Will, you a have a glioma in the left parietal lobe, in other words, there is a tumor in your brain that we found, at this point we have determined that it is terminal, now I know this is hard news to hear, but there's a surgery we can attempt to remove it, but we caught it rather late and the odds are not looking good-" The doctors voice faded, Willies vision tunneled and blurred, Their entire world was collapsing right infront of Willie and his mother. The rest of the conversation fell on the deaf ears of Willie. He was being admitted in the nearest hospital for comfort care until they decided whether or not to go through with the surgery.
Willie was devastated. He spent the rest of the night sitting in his room staring at the wall. 'Am I going to die? What's dying like? I'm to young, I haven't seen the CN tower yet, I haven't done anything I wanted to do. How am I going to tell Natasha?' Thoughts swirled in Willies mind going seemingly a million miles an hour. He decided not to tell Natasha right away, frankly, he didn't say a word to her for 3 days, he ignored her calls, he ignored her texts, he did not go to school. During his first day in the hospital he decided he would call her and break the news. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Willie was just about to hang up when he heard a noise on the other end.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded weak.
" Hey Natasha, I'm really sorry I haven't been talking to you the past couple of days, but uh, I... I have something to tell you." Willie felt his lip quiver. He felt as though he were swallowing a brick.
"There's something I wanted to -" Willie cut her off mid sentence.
"I'm at the hospital babe, and it... It doesn’t look like I'm going to get the chance to leave. I've got a tumor inside my head and it's most likely going to kill me. I understand if you don't want to come visit me, I know how you don’t really like hospitals, but it'd be nice to see you before I go in for surgery, because chances are I won't come out, babe, I'm basically dead, I'm dying, I'm..." He trailed off. Silence. Natasha was stunned, here she was thinking her problem was so important, but now it seemed to her that it was irrelevant, in fact, in that exact moment, everything became irrelevant to Natasha, maybe even life itself, it seemed.
"Ok" She whispered, "I just want you to know, that I love you, and always will ok? ok?" Willie said nothing. He couldn't bring himself to say anything at all. Natasha hung up.
The next morning Willie was undergoing the surgery. His mother, and his grandparents were there to wish him well. Natasha was not present. His grandmother and grandfather went first, they both kissed him on the forehead and told him they loved him. Willie could tell they were worried but  said nothing but thanks. His mother was in next. She came and sat down right next to him on the bed, and grabbed his hand.
"William... Oh William William William, I remember when you were seven, and you told me, 'Mom I'm never going to ever leave you ok? I'm going to be your superman' It was right after you finished reading your first ever comic book" Will's mother laughed as a tear streamed down her face "Can you do something for me Will? Can you keep that promise? I just need you to stay strong ok? Just be-" She took a long, deep breath. "Just be my superman." She kissed him and told him she loved him and that everything was going to be O.K. She walked out into the waiting room and collapsed into her fathers arms and began to sob.
An eternity passed in that waiting room. The three sat anxiously as a man in an all blue suit and a face mask walked in, they all stood.
"Please, sit down." They obeyed. Will's mother whimpered.
"During the surgery, we ran into several...Complications. The tumor was much larger and much more difficult to remove then we previously thought, but, we were able to remove it and he does seem to be in stable condition at the moment, we'll keep him in ICU for a couple of days to monitor his condition, but as of right now, it looks as though he'll be alright." The doctor smiled, stood up, and shook the hands of Willies mother and grandparents. When he left, Willie's mother hugged her parents as tightly as he could and cried tears of joy.
***
Will laid in his hospital bed in a semi-conscious state. A familiar looking women walked in to his room slowly, Willie's eyes widened, it was Natasha's mother.
" But where's Natasha?" Willies voice was weak and barley heard. Natasha's mother handed him a piece of paper, wiped her eyes, and left. Willie tried to scream wait, hold on, but to no avail, nothing came out of his mouth when he opened it. He stirred in his bed. He found the buttons of the handrail and raised his seat slowly. It was a note, it looked like Natasha's handwriting, Willie thought, but is was messy, hastily done and riddled with smudged ink spots. He began reading.
" Dear Will,
A lot of people would say what I'm doing is selfish, unthoughtful, even. But I can assure you it is only for you that I do this. I had a daydream recently of us laying on a hammock on the beach, just us, no one around for miles and miles, the hot sun beating on us and the cool ocean breeze blowing my hair on to my face, and you moving it behind my ears, I felt the brush of your lips and heard the beat of your heart in my ears, loud as thunder, long as the roll of drums. When I got your phone call I realized that this was no longer a possibility, and I just don't know how I can go on knowing that. You know, my mother once said that I'd be amazed at how many things you can do in the act of falling. I just hope I can have that thought in my mind in my final moments, no matter how brief. I just want you to know, that I fully understand what I'm doing and I want this to happen. There are just too many things to face right now, I feel as if I'm drowning, and there's no one there to save me anymore. I'm scared Willie. I'm so scared, but there's no turning back now. I'm doing it tonight. You remember that bridge where we had our first kiss? I felt as though my life began in that moment. So I think it's fitting that's where it ends as well. There was something I wanted to tell you before, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it. I still can't. We'll see you in heaven Willie. We love you."

title: First short story, looking for feedback.

question: What are the unexpected twists of the story?

answer: First, Willie is diagnosed with a terminal brain cancer. He is given a near fatal diagnosis. However, there is a small chance that a surgical procedure could save his life. Willie ends up going through with the procedure, and the second twist is that he ends up surviving the procedure, and the procedure is successful. The third and final twist occurs after the surgery, when Natasha's mother enters the hospital room and hands Willie a note. It is implied in the note that Natasha didn't think that Willie was going to survive the surgery, and therefore committed suicide, because she couldn't bear living without Willie.


text:
_This is an original MLBTR article produced by contributor Dan Lumpkin and the MLBTR staff. To read more recent MLBTR originals, click here._

ENDER INCIARTE and ODUBEL HERRERA will long be linked due to their status as division-rival center fielders who inked extremely similar five-year extensions within two weeks of one another. They’re also linked, however, by the Rule 5 Draft altering their career trajectories.

Oddly enough, it was the Phillies who selected Inciarte out of the Diamondbacks organization back in 2012. Although he didn’t stick with the team all season and was eventually shipped back to the D-backs, Inciarte tells MLBTR he’s not sure he’d be playing in the Majors today were it not for the Phillies’ show of faith.

_“You know, I could say I was very under-the-radar in Arizona,”_ the 2016 Gold Glove winner said. _“Not underrated but very under-the radar.”_

Inciarte was not seen as a prospect for his organization initially but was invited to play in Winter Ball during the 2012 offseason, and that’s where Phillies scouts got a good look at him and determined that Inciarte might be able to cut it in the big leagues.

_“As soon as [the Phillies] picked me it took me by surprise, to be honest,”_ Inciarte said. _“Then I realized what [the Rule 5 Draft] was and what it meant. It really worked great for me. It doesn’t work the same for everybody because some people don’t get to play and others get to play a lot.”_

Inciarte played with the Phillies in his first big league Spring Training and did well despite the Phillies’ manager mistaking him for a clubhouse employee on his first day with the team.

_“When I got there on the first day, I got there at like 5:00am, and Charlie Manuel didn’t even know who I was,”_ Inciarte recalled. _“He asked me to go get something like his shoes or his hat and I told him, ‘I’m not a clubbie, I’m the Rule 5 kid.”_

Inciarte found his way with the big league club, and many of the Phillies veterans saw his ability and encouraged him throughout Spring Training. This, Inciarte said, is what made him play with confidence.

_“When I was there, I was playing with CHASE UTLEY, RYAN HOWARD, JIMMY ROLLINS, COLE HAMELS, CLIFF LEE, and ROY HALLADAY,”_ Inciarte said. _“I could see all those guys up close. I felt like I was living a dream, right there. All those guys got to talk to me and said, ‘Hey man, you are part of this team. Don’t think because you are a Rule 5 it isn’t going to happen.’ It gave me a lot of confidence. I had a great time there.’”_

Inciarte had a good Spring Training and actually made the Opening Day roster for the Phillies as a bench player. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t in the Opening Day lineup, which would prove to be his only chance to suit up for the Phillies that year. Following the first game of the season, the Phillies signed EZEQUIEL CARRERA, and it was Inciarte who lost his roster spot in a corresponding move. Inciarte was returned to the Diamondbacks.

Though some players might consider it a demotion and a disappointment to just barely sniff the Major Leagues in that manner, Inciarte views his brief stay in the Phillies organization as a turning point.

_“For me, it was great because a lot of teams got to see me play and when I got back to Arizona they sent me to Double-A when I was supposed to go to Single-A,” _he explained. _“Everyone started paying more attention to me. I got more chances to play and prove myself. It was for the best but I know it’s not the same for everybody. When I got back Kevin Towers went to go see me play in Mobile, Alabama. He didn’t know who I was (before the draft). After the Rule 5 is when they started paying more attention to me. If it weren’t for the Phillies, I probably would not even have a chance to play in the big leagues so I’m very grateful for what happened to me.”_

Inciarte’s experience with the Rule 5 process is typical — especially for position players. While it’s not uncommon to see a relief pitcher survive a season as the seventh man in a big league bullpen, there are fewer spots to stash position players on a Major League roster. That reality makes Odubel Herrera’s accomplishment of not only sticking on the Phillies’ roster all season but thriving and becoming a key long-term cog all the more impressive.

Herrera split the 2014 season between the Rangers’ Class-A Advanced and Double-A affiliates and put together a strong season. In 545 plate appearances as a 22-year-old, he batted a combined .315/.383/.388 with two home runs and 21 stolen bases. But it wasn’t enough to land him on the Rangers’ 40-man roster, and the Phillies reaped the benefits. Though Herrera had spent nearly his entire career playing second base, the Phils plucked him in the Rule 5 and shifted him to center field.

_“I feel very blessed that the Rangers didn’t protect me because I am now in the big leagues and I have a long-term deal with the Phillies,” _said Herrera through an interpreter. _“Once I found out that the Rangers didn’t protect me, I knew in my heart that another team would pick me up through the Rule 5. … I went to Spring Training feeling a little strange but as soon as I arrived in Clearwater, the manager gave me a lot of cheers and confidence from day one.”_

While Herrera’s five-year deal with the Phillies may closely mirror Inciarte’s deal with the Braves, Herrera’s Rule 5 experience in many ways is more closely aligned with that of former Marlins/Braves slugger DAN UGGLA. Like Herrera, Uggla was the rare position player to be selected in the Rule 5 and plugged immediately into his new team’s Opening Day lineup despite the fact that he (like Herrera) had never played a game above the Double-A level in his career.

_“I was thinking about [the Rule 5 Draft] a lot, yeah,” _said Uggla when asked about being left off the Diamondbacks’ roster back in 2005. _“I had a good fall league and they left me off the 40 man, so that’s obviously what I was hoping for. I found out in the morning that I had been drafted by the Marlins and it was one of the coolest moments of my career. The coolest moment up to that point.”_

That moment, of course, would soon be joined by a great many more exciting moments, as Uggla went on to appear in three All-Star Games and hit 235 home runs in parts of 10 big league seasons from 2006-15. But the rarity of the chance he was given by the Marlins is not lost on him to this day.

_“They gave me the everyday starting second base job in the big leagues,” _Uggla said. _“For a guy in my position, that was unheard of. It involves an extreme amount of luck and timing. I could have gotten called up with any team and there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have got to play. Maybe a couple pinch hits or a spot-start against a really tough pitcher, maybe I would have gotten sent back down. But to be in that situation and to make the team and they just let you play everyday, that was pretty amazing.”_

Uggla also credited timing as a significant factor in his opportunity to start playing in the Majors. During the offseason he was picked up, the Marlins were in the midst of a fire sale in which they traded several starting players to build up their farm system. This flurry of trades opened up the Marlins’ depth chart and created an opportunity for Uggla to prove himself against big league pitchers.

_“They had just made a bunch of trades and started from scratch with a bunch of younger guys and rookies,”_ Uggla said. _“It was cool. I got to walk in and be at the team meeting and I found my place on the team.”_

Rebuilding clubs indeed have an easier time carrying a Rule 5 pick over a marathon regular season, and that was a large factor in JOAKIM SORIA’s emergence in the Majors, as his agent, Oscar Suarez points out.

_“As a pitcher, you go in with a second-tier team, like Joakim did with Kansas City at the time — they are no longer a second-tier team by any stretch of the imagination — but going in, they had no closer,” _Suarez recalled. _“Joakim was a starter, but they had no closer so they put him in the pen, and he beat everyone else out and before you know it, he was their closer. As an agent, yeah, you want any of your players to be Rule Fived, but you need to be realistic. What team are they going to go to? Like, if you are an infielder and you get Rule Fived by the Seattle Mariners, you say, ‘thank you for bringing me to your big league camp,’ but you know they aren’t going to keep you.”_

That’s the reality that faces a handful of players each year following their selection in the Rule 5, but the opportunity with which they’re presented is one that is the envy of other players and agents throughout the game. This year, there were 18 players selected in the Rule 5 Draft, and if history is any indication, the vast majority of them will be returned to their original organization. A few may be picked up by other clubs along the way before being offered back, but it’s rare for a player to survive the season and even more rare for them to then emerge as regulars. For the select few who do, however, the Rule 5 Draft will always be looked at as a watershed moment in their career.

_“It is a good thing for players like me that don’t get protected and because of that rule now, I’m a big leaguer,” _said Herrera. _“…I feel very grateful and very humble for the Rule 5 draft.”_

_Special thanks to Leo Nunez and Estefany Palacio for translation assistance._

question: Summarize the advantages and disadvantages of the Major League Baseball's Rule 5 Draft as explained in the passage.

answer: The MLB's Rule 5 Draft is a scheme many baseball clubs use to plug any inefficiencies or shortfalls in their roster. Players not drafted by clubs in the big league do have a chance to feature for a big club via this rule. Phillies got Ender Inciarte through Rule 5 Draft and though it did not retain Inciarte's services at the end of the season, it gave the player a platform (through enough games) to build his profile and excel at another club. This does not work out for every player, though. Some clubs do take on Rule 5 players but never use them in any way, causing their careers to stagnate due to lack of games and exposure.

question: According to the passage, who created the Rule 5 Draft?


text:
Home Television Association Presents: The Marquis Show: Episode 416: Rapist Frank [season Finale] (Inspired by Daft Punk's Da Funk)-

"Ladies and Gentleman. We have a special episode of The Marquis Show for you tonight. For the 20th season finale, The Marquis is going to mutilate convicted Rapist Frank Lohan on live television! Thats right, you heard me! Frank Lohan! Convicted of 8 rapes, 2 being children ages 10 and 16, and the murder of 28 year old Denise Shelton, Frank was sentenced to death shortly after his trial had begun. And tonight, you will all be a witness to the consequences of his crimes! As always,here is DeVon Martin introducing tonights entertainment!"- Announcer.

"Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls. Tonight is the 416th episode of The Marquis Show, the show that started the Death-Reality genre almost 16 years ago. And since then, we have gained a loyal audience and passionate fans and tonight, the Marquis is going to reward one lucky fan in an unimaginable way. Lets get the show started, shall we? Without further adeu, here... is... The Marquis!"

The Marquis steps from behind the stage and into the spotlight. The crowed goes wild. He waves to fans and steps off the stage and runs through the audience. A group of young girls holding up a sign 'We Lovvvve U Marquis!' are shown on a jumbo screen. They notice themselves and wave to Mom and Pop. The Marquis high fives a row as he runs back and forth through the aisles. He returns back on stage and continues to bow and blow kisses before signaling the audience to settle down. They gradually calm down and he fixes his bowtie.

"My friends... my dearest patrons. I love you"-The Marquis.
They scream in excitement.
"I love you all."-The Marquis.
He smiles and looks towards the left and right, appreciating his guests.
"You have brought me such joy this past decade. And tonight, i am giving America's most hated criminal, Frank Lohan, the Marquis Treatment. All for you. You have voted from the palm of your hands. It was a unanimous. 99% of you wanted to see this man tortured to the point of utter horror. And so it is with my great pleasure that I do this for you."

The Marquis grabs a chain from the edge of the stage and yanks on it. Frank is pulled onto stage with a collar around his neck. A heavy set man, Frank wears nothing but a steel collar around his neck with a 20 foot chain welded on. The crowed begins to boo hysterically. One man even throws a large stone but misses Frank. The Marquis smiles and walks over towards the stone. He looks at the audience then points at the rock. He looks for the audiences approval. They cheer.

The Marquis grabs the stone and looks at Frank. Frank is terrified. The Marquis walks over to Frank, calmly. Completely unsympathetic to the man, The Marquis swings the rock in his hand across Franks right jaw. Frank falls to the ground but holds himself up with his hands. He spits out a tooth and a decent amount of blood. The Marquis looks at his audience and smiles. He walks off stage and hands the rock to a "lucky guest". They begin to cry. The Marquis runs back on stage and begins his own torture on Frank.

The Marquis walks over to a bench and gazes at it for a second before he decides to use a torch and brand. He begins lighting the brand with the torch until the steele turns red. He walks over to the chains and fastens it to the floor so Frank cant run too far. He then presumes to throw the key into the audience.

The Marquis pokes Frank on his left buttcheek. Frank screams as the skin begins to boil. The audience cheers. The Marquis begins poking at random parts of Franks body. Frank flips around trying to hide each point burnt, leaving The Marquis more and more spots to burn. After 3 boils on his legs, 1 on his face, 4 on his back and 1 on the neck, The Marquis swings the brand like a bat into Frank's arm, breaking it. The bone splits in two and sticks out of his arm. Frank screams hysterically. His cries are silenced by the croweds cheering and applause. The Marquis walks over and gazes at another tool. This time, he picks up a surenge filled with bee venom extract. He walks to Frank and sits down next to his head. He begins to brush Franks hair.

"Shhh, shhhh... this is the easy part, Frank."-The Marquis.

He sticks the surenge through one side of Frank's lips and out the other. Frank wiggles his head in pain, trying to stop the Marquis from inflicting any further pain. A little aggrevated, the Marquis begins jamming the surenge anywhere near Frank's mouth, scraping his teeth, gums and tongue while trying to aim for his lips. Eventually, he sticks the surenge in and unleashes the bee venom. Frank's lip begins to swell. The Marquis stands on his feet and walks over to the table and grabs a pocket knife. He kneels down and slides the knife smoothly around Franks lips twice before stopping at the huge swell. He then proceeds to cut it off with the knife. When it doesnt neccesarilly work, The Marquis jabs the sharpened point into Franks lip and tears half of it off. With half a lip hanging off his face, Frank gibberishly begs for The Marquis to show him mercy and end his life. The blood rushes out of his lips like a mini waterfall. The Marquis backs away from Frank and watches him struggle for a moment.

The audience eats it up. The Marquis stares at the pathetic Frank Lohan. A miserable creature.

"Whats that Frank?"-The Marquis
"..lea... urcy.. urcy.."-Frank
"M-Mercy?"-The Marquis
"...urcy"-Frank

The Marquis looks at the audience.

"Should I show him mercy?"-The Marquis
the audience laughs hysterically
"You heard them Frank. They came for a show. Youre out of luck..."-The Marquis

The Marquis walks over to his table and looks at the arrangement. He decides on a turkey bastor and insecticide. He pours the liquid carefully inside the bastor, using a funnel and walks over to Frank. Frank, who is laying on his side in a mixture of his own urine, puss and blood is barely abled to move himself.

"On your stomach Frank."-The Marquis.

Frank jjust lays there, sobbing and petrified.

"On your stomach now, Frank"-The Marquis.

Frank ignores The Marquis's command. The Marquis lays a forceful kick into Frank's back. He screams more. The audience cheers more. The Marquis deals blow after blow into Franks back until he has no choice but to flop on his stomach to stop the kicking.

"Good boy, Frank. Not sure youll like this any better though."

The Marquis shoves the turkey bastor into Frank's rectum and pushes the liquid into his ass. The immediate feeling was a likeness to acid being poured in your ass. But without the boring reprecussions of skin deterioration. Frank flops around like a fish, puking on himself and screaming. The audience gives a standing novation, signaling the near end of Frank's life. They cheer, they cry, they praise The Marquis. The Marquis smiles and bows like a gentleman while Frank suffers unimaginably. Everything is perfect.

The Marquis walks over to the table, grabs a .45 and shoots Frank in the head, blowing out half his skull in the process, killing him immediatly.

"Who wants next?"-The Marquis.

the end.

title: The Marquis Show: Episode 416: Rapist Frank. (introducing The Marquis. Half-hostel, Half-Pee Wee's Playhouse

question: Who is Frank Lohan?

answer: Frank Lohan is a convicted rapist who was convicted of 8 rapes, 2 being children between the ages 10 and 16, as well as the murder of 28 year old Denise Shelton. He is subjected to torture and death on The Marquis Show.

question: Who is the Marquis?

answer: The Marquis is the host of The Marquis show, where they torture people based on audience votes.

question: What does Frank do for a living?


text:
Once, we were brothers.

Once, almost seems like a whole life ago, I stood by him and we fought and we bled and we *killed* together.

We were part of 5th Company, deployed to Ukraine during the escalation of the Crimean Conflict, a war which would later take more lives than Iraq and destroy more infrastructure than the Great War. We fought together in a conflict that, one day, only we would understand. And no politician could fathom what we saw there, no civilian could've known how we bled.

We shared bullets, bottles, and blood - when we were brothers.

We were stationed with Alpha Squad. We led all the missions, he and I. I was sergeant; he was corporal. All the men in that squad were our brothers, and we were theirs. I can still remember a time when I would've taken a bat to the head for any of those guys.

Now, I stand before him, and we are no longer brothers.

Somehow, the politics ate him. Probably ate me, too, he'd say. But now I'm sitting in an airport in Crimea and he has a gun to my head. And if anyone bothered to look up they wouldn't have thought for a moment that we were brothers.

But we were. Once.

Now he's a nationalist. Defected after the war, and found Russia to be his home, his country. I stayed with the US, and all he could say to me was how blind I'd become. After all we'd been through, as brothers, he couldn't believe I'd still take their side.

But I didn't. I just want my pension. I just want to go home. So does Alpha Squad. They're sitting next to me, but their eyes are far away. I don't bother to call to them. This isn't their business.

I look up at him. The barrel is staring down my face. He's smiling.

"Once, we were brothers," he said.

"Still are," I replied, "Only we've seen what you've seen."

"No," he lowers the pistol, "No, that's not it at all. You viewed what I did, but you didn't see. None of you did. Or you'd be on my side."

"I'm on no one's side. I just want to go home," my voice wavers, "I'm tired. I miss my family."

"We're your family," he raises the pistol again, "None of those fucks at home knows what happened here."

"Maybe it's better they don't know," I turn away, toward the rest of the squad. They're all busy in their own little worlds.

The engineer specialist has a happy little grin on his face. He's remembering that time we saved those two kids after we accidentally killed their parents while we were clearing out an apartment complex. Those two kids later got blown up by a landmine. But he's not remembering that.

Our sniper and spotter are talking, hushed, about what they'll do when they get home. I heard they might get married and move to South America. They want to forget what happened here. I know they never will.

The new guy is sitting, chattering his teeth. He never got used to combat, because he deployed a week before our squad was relieved from duty - two weeks before the war ended. He still has the nighttime chills from killing. He's grasping a folder in his hand - for his psychologist, when he's back stateside.

The airport is filled with people: refugees fleeing the war zone, servicemen and women going home, and children waiting for parents. No one notices us two.

"They're right. You're just a soldier," he puts the pistol away, "You don't get the bigger picture. But that's okay. Some of you aren't meant to. I'll see you boys stateside - in one piece or in a casket."

"You're not gonna shoot me?" I ask.

"No, because we were brothers," he replied. He disappears into the crowd.

I look down at my dog tags. No one will remember what we did here. The hippies will cuss us out; the families will avoid us; the government will ignore us.

But we'll have each other. Because, once, we were brothers. And once is enough.

title: [SP] Once

question: What does the story say about brotherhood?

answer: The narrator talks about the brotherhood shared between he and his 5th Company squad that had been deployed to Ukraine during the Crimean Conflict. They shared many things, including the trauma of killing people together. This created a bond between these men that no one else could understand. This comes into play in the present day, when one of the narrator's friends from his squad threatens to kill him with a gun for taking the side of the US. His friend decides not to kill him because they were and still are brothers.

question: What does the story say about violence?

answer: The story has a few mentions of violence, particularly because the main characters were deployed as a part of the 5th Company during the escalation of the Crimean Conflict. The narrator says he and his squad shared bullets and blood, and alludes to seeing violence and killings that others wouldn't understand. This includes the squad killing the parents of two kids, who eventually were blown up in a landmine. In the present day, the narrator's life is being threatened with a gun by his old friend.

question: Summarize how the story ends.

answer: The narrator is being challenged by his former brother and war with a gun to his head. His friend tells him he doesn't get the bigger picture, but ultimately decides not to shoot the narrator because he says they were brothers. The friend leaves, and the narrator is left to reflect on how the experiences they shared in war have created a bond only they could understand.

question: Summarize the scene where the narrator is killed.


text:
ANDREW KEITH, LORD DINGWALL (died 1606) was a Scottish landowner, soldier, and diplomat.

Andrew Keith was a grandson of William Keith, 4th Earl Marischal, a son of Robert Keith, the second Commendator of Deer. He spent his early career as a soldier in the service of Sweden, as a supporter and later an official of John III of Sweden, and had been made Baron Forsholm.[1]

Sweden

Andrew Keith married Elizabeth Grip, a niece of John III, in 1574. She wrote to George Keith, 5th Earl Marischal in August 1584 thanking him for the help he had given them.[2] They had a house in Stockholm, and ran a network of intelligence agents in Sweden.[3] In 1583 he was sent as Swedish ambassador to England to resolve a dispute about relations with Russia.[4]

In 1584 he was back in Scotland. He was knighted and then created Lord Dingwall by James VI of Scotland.[5] He was appointed keeper of the castle of Dingwall.[6] He enjoyed the confidence of the politically ascendant James Stewart, Earl of Arran, who appreciated his efforts as a diplomat in Sweden and England.[7]

In March 1586 he wrote to James Stewart, Earl of Arran from Västerås, sending his letters with John Anstruther, a brother of the Laird of Anstruther. He discussed their “secret purpose”, a plan to marry James VI to a Swedish princess, Anna Vasa of Sweden, daughter of John III of Sweden and Catherine Jagiellon, who had recently converted to Lutheranism. The plan was likely to fail because of the objections of her mother's sister the Catholic Anna Jagiellon, Queen of Poland. Dingwall thought their scheme “should be put in oblivion.” Anna Vasa never married and died in 1625.[8]

Anna of Denmark

In June 1589 he went to Denmark with the Earl Marischal to negotiate the king's marriage to Anne of Denmark.[9] He was paid £1,666-13s-4d Scots for the expense of fitting up two ships for his voyage.[10] The Chancellor, John Maitland of Thirlestane was sceptical about their suitability and combined abilities for this mission, and said, “Marischal and the lord Dingwall ... will not both make a wise man”.[11]

In July, Dingwall and his fellow ambassadors George Young and John Skene returned to Scotland and at Boyne Castle in Banffshire they reported to James VI on the progress of the marriage negotiations[12] . However, in Denmark the presence of Andrew Keith in the embassy, as a man in Swedish service, had caused offence.[13] John Colville, who was at Aberdeen with the royal party, heard that the ambassadors had not seen Anne of Denmark in person. Thomas Fowler, also at Aberdeen, heard a rumour that the embassy had caused some confusion in Denmark, the marriage being considered as settled, and costly preparations in hand, including ships, jewels, clothes, and a silver coach for the bride. Circumstances that, if the marriage plan failed, could bring disgrace to the lady and the Danish council “in most parts of Europe”.[14]

James VI decided to send Dingwall back to Denmark.[15] He was instructed to accept any Danish offer to complete the marriage.[16] James was married on 20 August 1589, the Earl Marischal was his proxy or stand-in at the ceremony in his bride's lodging and bedchamber in the palace of Kronborg.[17] Dingwall returned from Denmark on 12 September 1589 and reported that he had seen Anna of Denmark and her fleet, commanded by the Danish admirals Peder Munk and Henrik Gyldenstierne, at the northern tip of Denmark, at Skagen. The English ambassador William Ashby heard that the queen would arrive in five days in the best of conditions, and the wind was favourable.[18] On 10 October Steen Bille and Andrew Sinclair brought Anne of Denmark's letters to Leith. She had decided to stay over-winter in Norway.[19]

Dingwall was picked to travel to Norway to fetch the queen, and then was included in the king's party in Norway and Denmark.[20] In January they travelled overland through a part of Sweden, Anne of Denmark and James VI in sledges sent by her mother Sophie of Mecklenburg-Güstrow. John III king of Sweden had sent special instructions that Andrew Keith and Axel Gyldenstierne should on no account be allowed in the fortress of Älvsborg at the mouth of the river Göta.[21]

There was a controversy whether the queen's dowry money should be brought home untouched to Scotland, or whether the Earl Marischal, Dingwall and William Keith of Delny should be recompensed there and then. Delny, who was criticised for his ostentatious dress, was sacked from the post of Master of Wardrobe, and replaced by the rising favourite Sir George Home.[22] Some of the Earl Marischal's expenses and Delny's outlay on the king's clothes were reimbursed from the dowry.[23]

Sweden again

Keith returned to Sweden in 1592.[24] He resigned his lands in Scotland to William Keith of Delny.[25] He came to Scotland in January 1598 on a diplomatic mission from the king of Poland, and James VI gave him a gold chain worth 300 crowns. He intended to recruit men for service in Sweden but according to the English courtier Roger Aston he had no money to enlist them, and people were discouraged because earlier recruits had been “cruelly slain.”[26]

Keith accompanied Sigismund III Vasa into exile after the coup in 1598 and died in Paris in 1606.[27]

[1] David Stevenson, _Scotland's Last Royal Wedding_ (John Donald: Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 17-18: Miles Kerr-Peterson, _A Protestant Lord in James VI's Scotland_ (Boydell, 2019), p. 209.

[2] Miles Kerr-Peterson, _A Protestant Lord in James VI's Scotland_ (Boydell, 2019), p. 160.

[3] 'KEITH, ANDREW (SSNE 1534)', University of St Andrews, SSNE database.

[4] Kerr-Peterson, Miles (2019), _A Protestant Lord in James VI's Scotland: George Keith, Fifth Earl Marischal (1554 - 1623)_, The Boydell Press, p. 34

[5] Gordon Donaldson, _Register of the Privy Seal: 1581-1584_, vol. 8 (Edinburgh, 1982), p. 328 nos. 1931.

[6] Gordon Donaldson, _Register of the Privy Seal: 1581-1584_, vol. 8 (Edinburgh, 1982), pp. 320-1 nos. 1901-2.

[7] Miles Kerr-Peterson, _A Protestant Lord in James VI's Scotland: George Keith, Fifth Earl Marischal_ (Boydell, 2019), pp. 34-5.

[8] William Boyd, _Calendar State Papers Scotland: 1585-1586_, vol. 8 (London, 1914), pp. 278, 286: TNA SP 52/59 ff. 32, 33.

[9] George Crawfurd, _The peerage of Scotland : containing an historical and genealogical account of the nobility of that kingdom_ (Edinburgh, 1716), p. 92.

[10] George Duncan Gibb, _Life and times of Robert Gib, Lord of Carriber_, vol. 1 (London, 1874), p. 310 quoting the royal treasurer's accounts.

[11] Maurice Lee junior, _John Maitland of Thirlestane and the Foundation of the Stewart Despotism_ (Princeton, 1959), p. 198.

[12] Kerr-Peterson, Miles (2019), _A Protestant Lord in James VI's Scotland: Georg Keith, Fifth Earl Marischal (1554 - 1623)_, The Boydell Press, pp. 49 - 50

[13] _Calendar State Papers Scotland_, vol. 10 (Edinburgh, 1936), p. 124: David Stevenson, _Scotland's Last Royal Wedding_ (John Donald: Edinburgh, 1997), p. 21.

[14] _Calendar State Papers Scotland_, vol. 10 (Edinburgh, 1936), pp. 131-132.

[15] _Calendar State Papers Scotland_, vol. 10 (Edinburgh, 1936), pp. 123-30.

[16] Maurice Lee junior, _John Maitland of Thirlestane and the Foundation of the Stewart Despotism_ (Princeton, 1959), pp. 199-200.

[17] David Stevenson, _Scotland's Last Royal Wedding_ (Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 22, 85-6.

[18] _Calendar State Papers Scotland_, vol. 10 (Edinburgh, 1936), pp. 155, 163-4.

[19] Miles Kerr-Peterson & Michael Pearce, 'James VI's English Subsidy and Danish Dowry Accounts', _Scottish History Society Miscellany XVI_ (Woodbridge, 2020), pp. 1-2, 10, 93-4.

[20] _Calendar State Papers Scotland_, vol. 10 (Edinburgh, 1936), pp. 170-1.

[21] David Stevenson, _Scotland's Last Royal Wedding_ (John Donald: Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 97-99.

[22] _Calendar State Papers Scotland_, vol. 10 (Edinburgh, 1936), pp. 221-2: Robert Vans-Agnew, _Correspondence of Sir Patrick Waus_ (Edinburgh, 1887), p. 447.

[23] Miles Kerr-Peterson & Michael Pearce, 'James VI's English Subsidy and Danish Dowry Accounts', _Scottish History Society Miscellany XVI_ (Woodbridge, 2020), pp. 36-7.

[24] David Stevenson, _Scotland's Last Royal Wedding_ (Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 22, 85-6.

[25] John Maitland Thomson, _Register of the Great Seal: 1580-1593_ (Edinburgh, 1888), pp. 766-7.

[26] _Calendar State Papers Scotland: 1597-1603_, 13:1 (Edinburgh, 1969), p. 155.

[27] David Stevenson, _Scotland's Last Royal Wedding_ (John Donald: Edinburgh, 1997), pp. 17-18: Miles Kerr-Peterson, _A Protestant Lord in James VI's Scotland_ (Boydell, 2019), p. 209.

title: Andrew Keith, Lord Dingwall

question: Who was Andrew Keith?

answer: Andrew Keith, Lord Dingwall, was a Scottish landowner, soldier, and diplomat.

question: Who knighted Andrew Keith as Lord Dingwall?

answer: James VI of Scotland.

question: What was the "secret purpose" of Keith's letter to James Stewart, Earl of Arran?

answer: The secret purpose was a plan to marry James VI to a Swedish princess.

question: Who did Keith resign his lands in Scotland to?

answer: He resigned them to William Keith of Delny.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
Andrew Keith, Lord Dingwall, was a Scottish landowner, soldier, and diplomat. He was knighted as Lord Dingwall by James VI of Scotland in 1584.

In 1586, Keith wrote to James Stewart, Earl of  Arran from Västerås, of a "secret purpose" to marry James VI to a Swedish princess, Anna Vasa.

Keith returned to Scotland around 1592 to resign his lands in Scotland to William Keith of Delny. He later accompanied Sigismund III Vasa into exile after the coup in 1598. He died in pairs in 1606.


text:
The following contains elements of fiction. The frog is real.

My trip started off especially well. Sunday afternoon, weather perfect. My new friends at the landing contributed to a pleasant launch.

I packed a ton of gear, enough to require the addition of a pull behind raft. It’s a bit of a drag on long paddles but I sure can get a lot of stuff in a raft.

I decided to try a new area that looked really good on the satellite photo but turned out not to suit my preferences. Old age pickiness made me venture on.

After nearly 4 hours of paddling, I finally arrived at one of my all-time favorite campsites. Words fail. The joy of finding it unoccupied has to be felt in person.

It had everything. An easy landing. A separate sandy swim beach. The perfect spot to hang a hammock with a view. And tons of soft, friendly trails.

My first evening was spent pitching my tent, hitching myhammock, hanging my screen tent without the poles, and making a serviceable table. M’new home.

Time for bed. I left my rain fly off to gaze the stars. Slept pretty good. Midnight sprinkles got me up long enough to install the rainfly. Back to sleep.

In the morning it was raining steady and hard. I quick boiled some coffee and hunkered back down in my one man, coffin sized, back packing tent. All day.

As I lay there listening to the rain and waiting for the soggy hours to pass, something bounced off my tent. A few secondslater, it happened again

Can’t just let something like that go. No idea what it could be. Robed. Unzipped, and stepped outside for the first time in hours. There he was.

“hello little froggie.” Was that you bouncing off my tent? How you doin’? Never had a frog campmate before. It’s nice having company. Someone to talk to.

“Well thank you,” he said.
Yes, I could hear what the little frog was saying. Clear as now. I’m not saying he was an actual talking frog, I’m just saying I could hear him. Call me crazy.

“I hit your tent” he said, “so you’d come out and see that the rain is puddlin’ near your little nylon nest and you’re gonna be laying in water real soon”.

It was obvious I had to move my tent to higher ground. In the rain. Good thing I prepared for wet. Suited up I went to work. Just in time. “Thank you, froggie.”

Moving around is better than laying around so I didn’t really mind the work.     I moved my tent my tarps and my table and set up my kitchen and pantry.

When my task was completed, I was very happy. My tent was nestled in a grove of pine trees on the ridge overlooking the beach. My beach. Feng Hoppin Shui!

Thru it all, froggie hung around. Odd, but true. Nice having him around. “Hey froggie, throw me a tent stake”. Sorry. Forgot you were a frog. “Very funny”.

After lunch, the rain finally stopped and it was a real niceevening. Camp fire. A few stars. Grilled steak. Mac ‘n cheese. Fruit and cookies. Beer. Beer. Bed.

Tuesday started beautiful. Chip (his new name) hung around as I prepared a satisfying camp breakfast. Biscuits & Gravy, bacon, coffee, milk, juice. Ahhh.

Well fed, I was ready to explore. I packed snacks, water, and a heavy duty plastic bag for gathering firewood, and paddled off into virgin territory.

Modern humans (me at least) get so few opportunities for real adventure. That’s one of the reasons I go to the Flowage. This place can kick butt, if it wants to.

As I sit at home planning these trips, I say I hope that some unexpected challenge will arise for me to overcome. Sounds romantic sitting on the couch.

But when my wilderness wishes do come true, I Hate it. At least while it is happening. Panic and Fear are Strong Emotions. But, when it is finally over,…
No better feeling.
I’ve experienced hellatious storms, lightning strikes so close I couldn’t breathe, waves breaking over the sides of my kayak, and trees falling over in the night.

And getting Lost. It’s easy to do. Large wilderness water, with a maze of islands, and everything looks confusingly different from afar and all the same close up.

I’ve been lost on the Flowage before but Tuesday I got serious lost. I dug out my compass desperately hoping that it would help but I just got more confused.

Ever been really lost all alone? No car. No phone. Nobody to ask for directions. Not even a dog to keep you company. A real test of one’s calmabilities.

I won’t make you suffer the details but it was hard, confusing, tiring, and in a strangely profound way belittling.                                         I finally got found.

Having identified my location, it was time to get to work looking for firewood. Unoccupied campsites are the best. My map helped me find several in a row.

It is not uncommon to find that the last camper paddled home without finishing off his wood supply. Every once in a while you score big.

At one site I found half a dozen pieces of split, dried, real firewood. A luxury out in the wild where I usually have to scavenge the Island’s underbrush for sticks.

I filled my large plastic bag with kindling and tinder and strapped a few big native limbs to the top of my kayak and headed happily home.

Note: When I collect firewood, I walk around and fill my bag with any good small stuff I can find. Twigs, wood chips, you get the idea. One of the best places to find good ‘bag’ stuff is inside the camp fire ring. Plenty of good chunks of charcoal and half burnt logs. The following story is true.

The last campsite I visited was recently abandoned and the fire pit was still smoldering. I pulled out a chunk of mostly burnt wood and banged it against the rim of the fire ring and knocked all the hot coals off before putting it in my bag.

On my paddle home, I realized my bag was on fire. Flames. Behind me in the kayak. Out of reach. The nearest land looks really far when you’re on fire.

By the time I jumped out, my plastic bag was mostly gone, I had to throw fistfuls of burning sticks into the water, and my kayak suffered melty burns.

As fun as it was, too bad nobody was there to witness an old man paddling like the devil with smoke billowing behind. Would have made an excellent video.

By the time I got back to camp, I was beat. I unloaded my wood, grabbed a container of trail mix and a bottle of water and zipped myself up in bed. Snug.

When I woke up, it was brilliant. The stars were unbelievable. It was the night of the Perseid Meteor Shower and the sky was crystal clear and cookin’.

Such moments are Gifts.
I grabbed my cushion and blanket and laid on the bluff overlooking the water. The heavens reflection on the still surface of the lake magnified my pleasure.

And the meteors. The Shooting Stars. So often yet so sudden.They (almost) made me cry outloud. Further description could not do the experience justice.

Wednesday was fun. After breakfast and a relaxing cup of tea, I laid out my Island Golf course. I brought the balls but made my club. Holes were trees.

The first two holes were tricky; you could end up in the water. Chip designed the 3rd hole, a par five down the path to the john. Frogs.

As a kid growing up, I didn’t really have many friends to play with.                   I entertained myself. I think I’m pretty good at it. I have fun camping.

Golf. Swim. Float. Fish. Eat. Snooze. Sun. Play. Eat. Drink. Paddle. Build a fire. Camp Life can be Good.

Thursday was a day of challenges. I was dan bound and determined to make fire with sticks. I’ve seen the videos. I gathered the materials. I made smoke.

I tell myself I’m Happy I failed to make fire because it leaves an even more daunting challenge for me to face in the future. Hmmm. As I age, I accept a lot.

Next Challenge.
I decided to see if I could find an unnamed lake shown on themap, connected to the flowage by a thin blue line, the start of which was really far from camp.

After much effort, I found the narrow opening that was the blue line. Barely wide enough for my kayak with just enough room to push through. Barely.

Through spider webs and bugs falling on me from the five foot tall scratchy grass engulfing me, I pushed and pulled, determined not to fail.

Deeper in, trees formed a cool tunnel canopy. Twice I met obstacles that on lesser days would have turned my lesserdan back. Finally,.… like a miracle.

New dan lake. I figured that since I was probably the first to ever actually make it through, I should be the one to name it. It was a special place, a special time.

On the long paddle back, I sang that song I sing when I have a long paddle back to camp. I sing it over and over. It helps. The fish seem to like it.

Back at camp, Chip informed me of a new problem. He hopped over to where my raft was stashed behind a bush. A seam had busted and it was no more.

Not a big crisis, though Chip thought it was. Just a question of how to get all the gear back without the raft or making two trips. Something for us to ponder.

Thursday Night Feast. Pan fried crab cakes, buttered noodles, roasted corn on the cob, sliced tomato, and a fudge brownie for dessert. Sitting by the campfire.

I find it satisfying to cook my meals over a campfire that I start with a spark or a lens. It takes planning and patience but the results are usually worth it.

Chip shared a beer with me as we talked by the fire. (I did most of the talking.) He did tell me he was happy. The simple life and all. “You Betcha”. Amen.

Suddenly, a tremendous splash. Chip hopped and hit his head on a rock and I nearly fell on my butt. If it was a fish, it was unlike any I’ve ever experienced.

That night I laid awake in my tent for a long time listening to camp sounds.     It’s amazing what you can hear if you lay very still and focus. Slept well.

Friday: STRONG WIND ADVISORY. (an opportunity) ((I’ve done this before))      I hard drove my kayak directly into the breaking waves. Soaked and laughing.

I fought my way out as far as I could, then turned around and road the waves in like a surfboard. Two times. If I had a sail I could have flown. Hot Dog Rush.

In the evening, the wind finally died down. Thank God. It’s Maddening being outdoors in high sustained winds for nearly ten hours straight. Truly is.

Pleasant evening. Best campfire of the trip. When campingalone, it takes at least three nights before you fully realize the benefits of solitude. Night six.

That night was spent in quiet contemplation. Good thoughts of good things and people I love. Wilderness can be a kind companion. Slept good again.

Saturday breakfast was beautiful. Fried potatoes, bacon, eggs, and juice. It’s almost magical the way camping makeseverything taste so good. Chip agreed.

I headed down to the landing to wash my dishes when all of asudden I stopped dead in my tracks. A monster fish was lying in the shadow of a downed tree.

Slowly, slowly I backed away to the tree my pole was leaning against. It was rigged with a worm hook but my worms and other tackle were too far away.

I had no choice. The hooked pierced his neck under his bottom lip and he landed splash not two feet from the beast. He desperately kicked his legs once and wham, fish on. I screamed from the splash, set the hook, and let loose the drag. He took off like a rocket and my line sung as it played out. “HOLD ON CHIP. DON’T LET HIM GO”.

I don’t know how long the fight lasted, but that day I landed the biggest fish of my life. Before I let him go, I lovingly removed Chip’s remains from his throat.

You can call me sissy or whatever you want but I cried when I buried what was left of him. He was more than just a good campmate. He was a giving friend.

title: [RF] The following contains elements of fiction. The frog is real.

question: Summarize the things the narrator loves most about camping at the Flowage.

answer: The narrator loves areas of the camping site that has a sandy swim beach, a spot for hanging hammock, as well as friendly trails. He also loves the experience of seeing stars at night and watching meteor showers with the sky is crystal clear. The narrator loves paddling over the river and having breakfast over open fires.