text:
She was wearing a black t-shirt, tight jeans, and a gray mesh drape. That was on the first night I kissed her. She shook a little bit. She was nervous, and I missed her mouth. We laughed and looked at the ground nervously.

That was on our first date. We laid on a blue blanket for most of the day, in the grassy opening next to Kelly Drive in Philadelphia. I remember how easily conversation flowed. I remember being worried that I was talking too much: not giving her enough time to answer. I remember the breeze coming off the river and her perfume.

I remember our first anniversary. We were with our friends in a cabin in the Pocono Mountains. The house was so tucked back into the forest we thought it was the perfect setting for a horror movie. We left the window open at night, and it got so cold she made me put my arms into her shirt holes to keep her warm.

I remember how everything slowly fell apart. I moved to Philadelphia permanently. She had her own goals to accomplish in Happy Valley. Sometimes we fought over something, and sometimes we fought over nothing. Late nights out to dinner and casual dates around town turned to lying on the couch and watching TV. She liked to spend time with her friends more than spending it with me. I liked to spend time with my friends more than spending it with her.

When I cheated on her I felt no remorse for weeks. It wasn’t really cheating anyway. I had already been planning on ending the relationship for months. It took four weeks to realize I had thrown a four-year relationship away, but my mind was set. I was proud of the way I ended things. I refused all of her calls and ignored all attempted interaction. We were too young.

Now I’m standing outside of what seems like a festival. Purple flowers line a walkway to an enormous tent about half a football field away. I can hear children laughing, but they are being hushed. My brand new Audi RS5 is neatly reversed into a spot behind me. I’m wearing my best suit from Brooks Brothers. I even grew my sideburns out like she preferred. I hate my sideburns.

I had told her to wait back then. I told her to make sure she wanted me, to make sure she wouldn’t find anyone better. I never thought she would take me up on that offer. I told her we needed to find success apart from one another. I found it. For some reason all of the money didn’t seem so important now.

It takes a bit of talking to get into the wedding. She had hired one of her brother’s friends as an usher. He recognizes me. I promise him I won’t say a word to anyone inside. I just ask to be able to see them take their vows. He is visibly drunk and caves quickly.

The vows are beautiful. She is beautiful. I see her parents again for the first time in three and a half years from across the crowd. Her mother is an emotional wreck, and her dad seems like he wants to be. There are a lot of unfamiliar faces. They must be his family. After four years you know everyone in a family: Your family.

No one pays me mind. I don’t think they recognize me. I was not in shape the last time they had seen me and nowhere near as well dressed. Maybe they just don’t remember me.

I thought it was going to be easy to interrupt the wedding. They don’t actually say that line anymore, though. The one I’m talking about. There is no specific opening for me to interject. Instead I watch him kiss her. She seems to like it more than I remember her liking my kisses. I cringe. It is her wedding after all.

I cried. The two families and their friends hoot and holler. Her father and his father hug and clink glasses. I wonder how it would be if my father had been there instead.

She was crying. He might have been. She started to scan the crowd, waving and smiling ecstatically.  I still stood in the back of the tent. It was time for me to leave.

I would trade every job offer, one-night stand, and dollar to stand where he stands. You can’t buy everything.

Her sister recognizes me as I pass by the open bar. She must have been working her way towards it as the crowd celebrated. She grabs my arm gently.

“Christian…?”

Her face looks worried. A mix of happiness and fear start to take over. I smile. I wave; pull my arm from her grasp. I hold my finger to my lips.

“Our Secret.”

She covers her mouth, turns around, and walks away. As I turn I see her order a drink from the bar. I guess this isn’t like the movies. I guess it isn’t normal to show up to a girl’s wedding uninvited: particularly if you planned to marry her yourself before. I laugh to myself. I wonder what could have happened if I had arrived earlier, if I drank more, if I did interrupt the wedding. I wonder how many fists, kicks, and elbows would have met my face.

I walk outside and lean against the back of my car. I do not want to be seen by any early departures. I pull out my last cigarette and wait for the tears to stop. She hated me smoking. I try to tell myself it is all worth it. I still have the money, the career, and the lifestyle.

I don’t have my best friend anymore, but she has hers. That feels okay to me. She always said you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too.

The paper butt starts to burn. I flick it. Time to go. I stand up and stretch. The tears are dry. I turn around and he is standing there. He’s smoking a cigar with someone I don’t recognize. Thank god.

I don’t know why, but I decide to strike up a conversation. He has no idea who I am. I guess she really never talked about me. We talk for almost half an hour. I’m surprised no one has realized he’s missing yet. He’s a better guy than me through and through. He’ll have time for the kids.

“You got a good one. Don’t let her go.”

He puffs from his cigar as I crouch into my car. A smile sits wide across his face.

“Never.”

I believe him.

title: Our Secret

question: What is the narrator's motive in showing up at the wedding?

answer: The narrator is attending the wedding of the girl he once loved (and may still love). He plans to interrupt the wedding to prevent the final contract from being signed. He doesn't find the opportunity and leaves instead.

question: How did the bride meet her husband


split: test

text:
**Part One**

**I**

She takes me places where melody soothes me, where harps are plucked lightly to encourage men to sleep carefree within infernos of rainforests and waterfalls.  Then comes the subtle reprise of nineteenth century poetry – my wine glass is never empty and I can afford the luxury of one thousand cigarettes without fear of impending doom.

I am strapped to an old-aged hospital bed, something you’d expect to see in one of those tacky horror movies about haunted mental asylums.  You know the kind, the ones where stupid teenagers find the darkest and freakiest room possible then decide to spend the night there.

The room where I spend my days and nights (not against my will, despite the straps) is warm and white, naked except for a toilet and a large clock that wouldn’t look out of place in a school dining hall.  It reads 11:01; whether it’s AM or PM I cannot be sure.

I am unnamed but she refers to me as *The Subject*, or more recently *Subject A*.  I possess no knowledge of a life in the past; neither do I ache through wishing to acquire such knowledge.  Whatever happened in the past may rot there, forgotten and unexplored.  I live only for the visits of the magnificent woman in black, the woman who relieves the weight of the world from my shoulders with two daily injections of an obscure medicine – a medicine that cures every ailment and more.

When I am not riding the waves of this magical concoction I drift away into the most fulfilling sleep.  I dream of floating in space, occasionally gazing back to the earth, which looks luscious and unspoiled.  It reminds me of my utter insignificance, of man’s utter insignificance, and I know that my days are better spent here in this white room, here in this bizarre but beautiful reality.

I count my blessings as I lie and wait for the woman in black to return.  Over the course of my time here I’ve not once experienced any form of despair, be it the heart-freezing pain of loss, or the mind-crushing sorrow of failure.  Man’s suffering is now as alien to me as surfing the rings of Saturn.  Here, the passing of time is as smooth and steady as a leisurely afternoon stroll in the countryside.

These years have been filled with feelings of serenity – tranquillity has caressed every part of me – and I am eternally grateful to the woman from the inmost depths of my heart.  I can touch distant beauties from the comfort of where I lie.  I can visualise and be a part of the most sensational successes without the strain of applying myself.  There is nowhere else I would rather be.

From the corridor outside of my room the sound of footsteps are now emanating, suggesting that the woman will be here any second.  I cannot contain my excitement as I hear her pressing the electronic keypad outside of the door.  It borders on euphoria.  It is the exact elation that engulfs me each time she is near, yet there is something else brewing within me, a dark tide slowly washing over me, an unknown sensation that I start to recognise as the long lost symptoms of anxiety.

*Am I going mad?*  What else could it be?  There is no reason for me to fear the owner of the footsteps, no logic behind the terror whatsoever.  But there is something inside me that is desperately trying to tell me otherwise, something that is forcing me to proceed with caution.

I call out to whoever – *whatever* – is behind the door, but no response has been forthcoming.  Petrified now, I begin to struggle on the hospital bed, tossing and turning, trying in vain to free myself from the straps that keep me in place.  This desperate need for freedom is so mystifyingly foreign to me, but my mind is screaming that this is an urge that I must act upon.  When the door sluggishly opens I am still strapped helplessly to the hospital bed.

Nervously, I peer towards the open doorway, half-expecting a troop of God forbidden abominations to charge through.  Yet, nothing is there.  The doorway is empty.  I am staring straight through it, deep into the darkness that occupies the other side.

Whatever nightmare awaits me; I wish it would hurry up and submerge me.  I can handle whatever melancholy – whatever evil – is thrown at me, but I cannot cope with suspense.  It’s the paranoia, you see, the troubled thoughts that race at one million miles an hour – thoughts that haven’t plagued me for as long as I can remember.  But the pain, the absolute misery, is flooding back, as if a dam has been bombed in my mind.  For each second that passes I am overwhelmed by panic.  Come what may, but come right now.

Then I see her slowly making her way through the door, dazed and unbalanced.  There is what appears to be a gunshot wound just above the right lumbar region of her abdomen.  Blood is leaking out at a phenomenal rate, soaking the white marble floor.  She locks eyes with me and begins to mumble in a state of disorientation.

‘I…I am so sorry.’  She is crying now, those beautiful eyes filled with hideous tears.

‘I hate myself, believe me.  You have to believe me.’

I am startled to notice the knife that she is holding in her hand.  She stumbles further towards me and I know what she has in mind.

‘I have to do this.  You have to understand.  I cannot let them take you.’

*Who?* *Who is going to take me?*  I thought, the shock inhibiting my ability to speak.  For a split second I debate whether I am having a bad reaction to the medicine, whether all of this is real, but I know that it is wishful thinking on my behalf.  How would you cope if the woman you love came to kill you?

I was ready – more than ready – to die.  In such a short space of time my entire world has collapsed around me.  I look at her one last time before closing my eyes.  I have accepted, no, I welcome, my fate.  I am one of the lucky ones.  I have been happy for an extensive period of time and I have loved, albeit not in the natural way, but it was still love.

It was then, as the woman was hovering over me, that I heard a stampede of footsteps, which were soon followed by the popping of gunshots.  Immediately, my heart broke for the woman and I began to howl in tears.  It should have been me.  I wanted it to be me.

**II**

‘Do you remember us, brother?’  Three men are standing above me; the woman’s lifeless body now sprawled in a bloody mess on the floor.  It was the man who had fired the shots, judging by the gun in his hand, who asked the question.  And he is a man that I have absolutely no recollection of.  I recognize neither of them.

‘You fucking killed her!’  It’s all I can say.  I’m drowning in the sadness, unable to keep my head above the water.  I cannot believe that the happiness, the medicated happiness, is to be gone forever.  But most of all I cannot accept that the woman is dead, that she is gone and never to return.  Oh, how quickly things change.

‘Brother, she was not who you thought she was.  I promise you her death is a good thing.’

*A fucking good thing!*  I want to tear his throat out, this man, one of the three who have taken everything from me.  I envisage killing him – killing them all.  I swear to God, if they free me from these straps it will be the last thing that they do.

‘Do you at least want to know where you are, brother?  We have come a long way to help you.  We have been searching for you for so long.’  The third man spoke for the first time, his voice soothing and calm.  Still, I don’t trust him.  I don’t trust them.

I shook my head furiously, ‘I didn’t need your fucking help!’ I snapped, ‘I was more than fine until you came and ruined everything.’
‘But you did, this…’ he waved his hands around the room then back towards me, ‘…is not natural, especially not for you.’

I was in the process of composing myself, fighting the adrenaline brought on by the despair, when an alarm that sounded more like an air raid siren burst into its gruesome song.

‘You said they were all dead?’  One of the unarmed men blurted out in a panic to the one who took my love away from me.

‘Obviously not.’  He said before turning to me, ‘either way, they can’t do anything, so I want you to sit tight, ok, brother?  We’ll have you out of here in no time.’

I know it will be futile to reiterate my objections.  Regardless of how I feel, they have made it clear that they ‘know’ what’s best for me.  So I decide to play along and go with them when the time comes.  An opportunity to kill them will soon arise I’m sure and, when it does, I will not hesitate to take it.  Until then I will keep my emotions at bay, despite the yelling yearning to explode.

I was, however, slightly concerned by who he meant by ‘they’.  I was only familiar with the woman.  I hadn’t set eyes on anyone else during my luxurious stay here.

As the three men prepare to leave the room the alarm reaches deafening levels.

‘And you’re certain there’s no chance they could send reinforcements?’

‘Use your brain, Jack.  Think where we are!’

I could see that Jack was ready to open his mouth and respond before thinking against it.

‘You know the drill, brothers.  We’ll check over the station once more.  There can’t be many of them left.’

They were moving with the utmost precaution as they disappeared into the darkness outside of the door.  I use their absence to focus on exactly where it is that I am (something that I promised myself I wouldn’t do).  Who were the people that they killed?  And what sort of station is this?  I despise myself for beginning to need to know – for doubting the woman – but what if these men *are* here to help me?  I cannot deny myself the chance to discover the truth because I’m frightened to learn that I’ve been lied to.  No matter how much I want to kill them, I at least have to hear their version of events.

If I am to be strong and overcome the fear that links arms with the prospect of loneliness then I must control my emotions.  I mustn’t let feelings cloud my judgment.

I stare vacantly at the woman’s dead body.  With no choice but to embrace the sensation of unease, I ask her the questions that I have avoided for so long (not that I expect any answers).  *Why were you keeping me here?*  *Why me?* Surely, there can’t be anything extraordinary about me.  But it’s obvious, with such a short burst of thinking one thing is for sure – I wasn’t kept here out of kindness, irrespective of whether or not the doses made it feel that way.  He was right – it isn’t natural to be kept here dosed out of my eyeballs, despite how good it feels.  And if I’m being honest it is that feeling that I will come to miss – that I am already missing – and not the woman.  I breathe a sigh of relief and turn my gaze to the ceiling above me; I am ready to discover the truth – to accept and discover myself.

title: [SF] She

question: Summarize the life of the narrator.

answer: The narrator goes wherever the woman takes them. She calls him "The Subject" or "Subject A". The narrator is strapped to an age-old hospital bed and lives in a white room with a toilet. They have no idea if it's day or night and only live for the visits by women wearing black clothes who come and give two daily injections to them. This cures their ailment and puts them to sleep after the effects subside.

question: Summarize the feelings of the narrator on hearing the footsteps.

answer: The narrator has lived an anxiety-free life until now due to the injections. They get excited when they hear the footsteps outside and the door unlocking. However, they start to feel anxious and try to get out of the bed and break free. They can't get up as the straps don't come off. That's when the woman enters and she has a gunshot wound on her lumbar region.

question: Summarize the narrator's interaction with the men.

answer: The men barge into the room and kill the woman. The narrator is sad and angry at the men for killing her. He wants to kill them all for doing it. However, the men say that they're there for him and they'll get him out of there. They ask him where he is and he doesn't know. The men hear the alarms go off and run out to kill the rest of the people. This compels the narrator to think where he is.

question: Summarize the narrator's escape.


text:
“NAMASTE” is the fourth episode of the fifth season of the AMC television series _Better Call Saul_, the spinoff series of _Breaking Bad_. The episode aired on March 9, 2020 on AMC in the United States. Outside of the United States, the episode premiered on streaming service Netflix in several countries.

Plot

On the day after the closing scene of “The Guy for This”, Jimmy and Kim head to work. Jimmy cons Sticky and Ron, the two drug users who had one of his “50% off” business cards, into keeping him as their counsel when they seem ready to accept a free public defender. Jimmy has lunch with Howard, who admits that HHM wronged Jimmy in the past, but says the feud was between Jimmy and Chuck, not Jimmy and the firm. Howard offers Jimmy the chance to join HHM and gives him time to think it over, but Jimmy is once again unsettled by the reminder of his previous life.

Kim recommends to Kevin and Paige an alternate building site that will enable Mesa Verde to work around Everett Acker's refusal to vacate his home, but they insist on evicting him. Kim looks on as Jimmy uses the Saul Goodman persona in a courtroom con that achieves a mistrial. She asks Jimmy as Saul to represent Acker against Mesa Verde, and Acker agrees to retain him. Jimmy buys three bowling balls at a pawn shop (as shown _in medias res_ in the cold open) and flings them over Howard's front gate, damaging his expensive car.

The Albuquerque Police and DEA stake out the last of Gus's dead drops. Diego collects the money, then leads the DEA on a wild chase, eluding them by escaping through a small tunnel after abandoning the cash. While Hank is disappointed they did not get information on the higher-ups, the DEA and police celebrate the seizure of “just shy of a million dollars” in drug money, as well as the arrests of the three men who made the drug drops. Diego regroups with Victor and they contact Gus to inform him their task is complete. Gus has been seething in anger and venting his frustration on Lyle, making him repeatedly clean the Los Pollos Hermanos fryers. After Gus hangs up, Lyle asks if the fryers are clean enough, and Gus's reply that they are “acceptable” is clearly a reference to the dead drops.

Mike arrives at Stacey's home to watch Kaylee but finds Stacey hired another babysitter. She tells Mike she does not feel comfortable leaving Kaylee with him as the result of his previous outburst. Later that night, as Mike is walking home, he is set upon by the street thugs he previously encountered. They beat and stab him and Mike wakes up in a pueblo at an unknown location.

Production

“Namaste” is the directorial debut of Gordon Smith, who had started off as a production assistant on _Breaking Bad_ before becoming a screenwriter for both that show and _Better Call Saul_. In addition, Smith wrote the screenplay.[1]

_Namaste_ is a Hindi customary greeting; in the episode, it is used as Howard's custom license plate for his car.[2]

Reception

“Namaste” received critical acclaim. On Rotten Tomatoes, it garnered a 92% rating with an average score of 8.21/10 based on 14 reviews. The site's critical consensus is, “Everyone is struggling to keep their cool in a _Better Call Saul_ entry that meticulously sets up the season's storytelling pins, racking up suspense for the impending bowling ball that'll knock everything down.”[3]

Ratings

“Namaste” was watched by 1.22 million viewers on its first broadcast,[4] which was a slight increase from the previous week of 1.18 million.[5]

Notes

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

title: Namaste (Better Call Saul)

question: How does the episode "Namaste" of "Better Call Saul" tie in with the "Breaking Bad" franchise?

answer: Jimmy/Saul is a character from the Breaking Bad show, as are the DEA agent Hank and drug kingpin Gus Fring.


text:
The RADIO AND TELEVISION PERSONALITY (RTP) AWARDS are an annual awards ceremony for radio and television in Ghana.

The RTP Awards, organized by Big Events Ghana, were first announced in January 2011. The first RTP awards were held in June 2011 at the Banquet Hall, State House, Accra. The event was hosted by Ama K. Abebrese and Felix Vander Pullin.[1]

The 9th edition, hosted by actor James Gardiner and talk show host Cookie Tee, was held at the Accra International Conference Centre on October 12 2019.[2]

[1] Sefa Kayi Rules The Airwaves at RTP awards, _Ghana Web_, 27 June 2011.

[2] Actor James Gardiner and Cookie Tee To Host 9th RTP Awards, peacefmonline.com, 7 October 2019.

title: RTP Awards

question: Where do the Radio and Television Personality (RTP) Awards take place?

answer: Ghana

question: When was the first RTP Awards?

answer: It took place in June 2011.

question: Describe the 9th addition of the awards.

answer: It was hosted by actor James Gardiner and talk show host Cookie Tee, and was held at the Accra International Conference Centre on October 12 2019

question: Who is Ama K. Aberese?

answer: The article only says that she hosted the first RTP Awards.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about the Radio and Television Personality (RTP) Awards in Ghana, which first debuted in June of 2011.


text:
Before we begin the story, let me first explain the title. To be quite honest, I have no idea where it came from. It seems like I have always had "The Knight of Ill Omen" in the back of my mind. I asked a few of my family members about it and none on them had ever heard anything about it. After 'Googling' it, I saw nothing. At the moment, anything you could find on google about it is my work. Here is the story.

The Knight of Ill Omen

Vladar Hroarsson was born true king of Dyrtrottir. The previous King, Vladar’s father, died a few weeks before Vladar was born. He had a good mother. She cared for him and she always loved him.

When Vladar was in his sixteenth year, he took command over his kingdom. His grandfather, Rognvald Hroarsson, had built a well-fortified castle atop the highest mountain peak in all of the land. The castle had only one entrance, which was always protected. Because he had built the castle with brick, the neighboring kingdoms feared and respected the his kingdom.

Vladar was born in a time of great peace. He was tasked only with maintaining the great wealth and size of the kingdom, and he ruled with a kind and just heart. Even though it was not custom for powerful rulers, Vladar helped the poor. He cared for them and gave the able bodied men work and bread and cured meat to the women and children. Everyone in the kingdom was glad to work and help because the king was good and he loved them. There was joy in Vladar’s heart and the kingdom prospered and flourished.

Vladar met a beautiful woman when he was in his twentieth year. She had no reason not to love him. He had given her father cures to his illness when he was bedridden and he had helped them when their crop failed. After they were married, they had a daughter. Vladar and his wife loved her very much. Vladar was saddened when she turned blue and was buried. His wife was grief stricken, but Vladar helped her through and they had another daughter as well as a son.

After a few years, when Vladar’s children were old enough to speak, a new metal was discovered in the mountain north of the castle. The metal was dark grey and difficult to melt. It was very heavy and extremely strong. After building new forges, the blacksmith’s were able to forge the metal into the finest weapons. A sharp sword crafted from this new metal could cut clean through the cuprum swords wielded before.

Many months passed and the ore began to yield only slag. It had run dry and scarce, so the miners dug deeper. After much digging and mining, there was found to be only one vein of ore left. The vein was deep and not easily accessible, so an elite team of miners and an architect were sent down to retrieve it. They descended with four days provisions, but a week passed and they had not yet surfaced. A few guardsmen were sent in after them, but they too failed to reach the sunlight again.

Vladar heard about the miners and gathered up his new sword and a few of the elite soldiers from the kingdom’s small military. They descended down under the mountain. It was dark and cold, the walls were expertly carved and the floor was made of oak wood. They marched quickly for over an hour, winding their way down the damp, dark passage. After much effort, they finally reached the bottom where the last ore vein was located. There wasn’t any evidence the first group had even been there. Vladar was worrisome and ordered the soldiers to go back, but as they headed for the exit tunnel, they found it sealed. The team searched and searched but could not find any other exit. Since they hadn’t planned on staying long, they only had enough food and water to last two days. Vladar and his men sat down and began to converse with one another. None of the soldiers knew one from another. Vladar chose the most diverse team he could, drafting soldiers from all aspects of their military. There was a medic, a swordsman, a general and a scout.

After a while, they found there was no immediate danger about. The swordsman began to sharpen his blade. The task wasn’t easy due to the dim torch light, but he was skilled and the quality was to standard. After he finished, the general requested that he would sharpen his blade also. He mended the medic’s tools and Vladar’s fine sword. The swordsman called out to the scout, asking if he should sharpen his dagger. There was no reply. The team began to search for him but couldn’t find him. After searching for quite some time, the group came together in the corner of the dark cave. The three of them looked around and found the general now missing. Vladar put his hands on his face and cried out in sadness. He assumed their disappearance to be his fault alone. After composing himself, Vladar looked up to find the rest of his team absent. Vladar was frightened, but he had courage. He knew that where ever his team had gone away to, he could also find; so Vladar waited.

Vladar still waited. He rationed the remainder of his food to last him longer. Vladar waited alone for a week. Afterwards, he found enough water to last him another week, as long as he didn’t exert any energy. Alone, Vladar waited another week. He was still alive, but he was shriveled and pale. After two more days of waiting, just as he was about to lose his sanity entirely, Vladar heard drums.

The drums kept a steady beat, growing louder and louder until they suddenly stopped. Hearing a shallow panting across the cavern, Vladar sat up for the first time in days. He heard the breath coming closer. Vladar backed up against a wall. He scrambled around and found one unlit torch. Using his flint, Vladar lit the torch. He then saw what was making the shallow breathing sound. It was a humanoid like creature with its head down and bent crooked. Its skin was pale white and its rib cage and back bone were clearly visible. The thing looked up at Vladar and smiled, with its head still awkwardly crooked. Just then, the thing leaped onto Vladar gnashing its teeth and screeching and clawing. Vladar instinctively reacted and thrust his sword into the creature’s heart. As he did so, the drums began to play again. Vladar moved the creature off of his body. He saw the creature’s face and noticed it did not match the shape of its head. Vladar looked closer and saw a seam running down the side of the creatures face. Vladar noticed that its face had been grafted on. Now looking it eye to eye, he recognized the face to be that of the scout.

Vladar stumbled away from it and noticed that a brilliant white light was pouring in from a newly opened doorway. He began to crawl toward it, but with every inch, moving became harder. He was slowing down. He felt pain surge throughout his body as he got nearer. The pain was completely overwhelming now. Just as Vladar put his hand in the illuminated doorway, he began to thrash and convulse violently. Vladar felt his bones cracking and splintering, and he felt his body become cold and hollow. Vladar called out in pain, but he was alone and no soul was about to hear him. He cried, but still there was pain. Then, the drums stopped, and Vladar felt peace. He stood up and found that he was all the way inside of the doorway. He looked at his hands. They had become the same metal as his sword was made from. They had sharp clean edges and they were strong. Vladar looked and saw his arms and legs made from the same metal. He did not know what to think.

Vladar wandered around until he found a large room. He entered and noticed statues of men made from the same metal as he was now made from. There were seven of them all standing around in a circle, atop black pedestals. He looked at their face. It was the same shape as a skull, but again, made from the dark metal. He looked at their eyes, but saw only dark pits with no end. They were all wearing robes and had swords made of the finest craftsmanship. Vladar saw that there was an eighth pedestal with no statue, but still a robe and sword. Vladar looked around again and picked up the eighth sword. As he did, all seven statues came to life and drew their swords. Vladar saw the nearest statue. It didn’t seem to want to hurt Vladar. It was smiling, and it was happy, but something about it mad Vladar uneasy. He grasped his sword and smote off the head of the smiling statue. He ended any happiness in the room, and he forgot it as well. He saw another statue; he immediately stabbed it and forgot love. Killing the other statues he forgot pain, sadness, compassion and joy. He looked at the last Statue. It was cowering on the ground, but Vladar had forgotten compassion, so he killed this statue, forgetting fear. He saw a metal rope hanging from a hole in the ceiling, Vladar grasped it and climbed.

Vladar’s new plate metal arms and legs made climbing easy. He reached the top and opened a small trapdoor. He climbed through and found himself by the harbor. Looking around, Vladar saw his castle. He knew he had to go there, but he didn’t know why. Vladar was full of energy. Not the energy of joy or happiness; it was only the energy that would drive him to kill. He saw a small fishing boat pulling into the dock. An old fisherman and his grandson walked off the boat, and began to unload their catch. Vladar silently climbed to the top of a wooden post. The boy went back into the boat. While the old man’s back was turned, Vladar dropped down behind the boy. When the old man grew impatient he went into the boat to see what was keeping the boy so long. He didn’t find anyone. As he was leaving, he saw his grandson lying blue and cold.

Vladar went over to the castle. There were two guardsmen protecting the only entrance. He recognized their faces, and headed over to the housing area of Dyrtrottir.

The guardsmen were keeping watch when they were struck on the head by something falling from above. They drew their swords and looked up, but found nobody. They looked back at what they had been hit by and found it was their wives. Their bodies were blue and bleeding. The guardsmen, overcome with grief, wished for death.

Vladar made his way into the castle and into his old bedroom. He climbed up to a corner of the ceiling and waited, clinging to the rafters. At nightfall, Vladar’s wife entered in the room and settled into bed. She began to cry, fearing Vladar was dead, which in a way, he was. Vladar clung very still and watched her. In the midst of the night, Vladar’s very scared son entered the room. Vladar’s wife kissed his hand and told him everything would be ok. She left a lip mark on her son’s hand. In the morning, Vladar’s wife awoke feeling coldness on her cheek. She moved over and saw a blue dismembered arm. She screamed, not as much because of the arm, but more so because of the lipstick mark on the back of its hand.

Vladar heard the scream. He didn’t know why he did what he did, or why he became what he is. Vladar only knew that he loved it.

title: The Knight of Ill Omen

question: What does the story say about the acts of violence Vladar commits?

answer: Vladar encounters a humanoid creature and thrusts his sword into its heart. He then finds a series of statues and slays them one by one, losing his emotions in the process. Afterwards, he kills a young boy. Then he kills the wives of two guardsmen. Finally, he cuts off his own arm.

question: Who are the various members of Vladar's family?

answer: Vladar Hroarsson was the song of the previous king, who died a few weeks before Vladar was born. His mother cared for him and always loved him. His grandfather was Rognvald Hroarsson, who had built a castle atop the highest mountain peak in all the land. He met his wife in his twentieth year. They had a daughter who died, and then had another daughter and a son.

question: What does the story say about how Vladar's first daughter died?


text:
There are wolves fighting in my soul, one of white fur, which is now matted down with blue tears and bright red blood. One so large and mighty now so weak and small. She tries to fight them, keep them back, but they keep winning out each time. The black wolves of hate, fear, distrust and anger come at her in waves. She remembers a time when she was a lone wolf merely just watching the grey wolves until one came to her. He was gorgeous, and wonderful, so full of love and lust even through the Past’s misdeeds. She loved him, she could see a world with their own pack, but then one of the wolves of the grey pack became green, her fur growing thick with moss.

Suddenly the pack of grey wolves began to darken their true colors coming forth, wolves of black and such a deep gray came forth. The white wolf still had her amazing beauty, but the fur of her lover still shone with his beautiful grey streaks but the black was beginning to fade in. she held onto him until he left her as the black fully consumed his coat. She wanted to run and hide away, but he did nothing wrong, so she stayed with the black pack, somehow grew closer to the moss-ridden wolf. She was already friends with the moss-ridden one who disliked the way the others acted towards the deep ginger male. She tried to tell the moss ridden one to stop that nothing is wrong. The moss ridden wolf never listened, so the white wolf just tried to nudge her to the right path. As time went on the white wolf realized she had become had become close friends with the moss ridden wolf who’s grey fur was so covered in moss, she was green like the oversized lizards of the marshes.

So the white wolf walked a thin path taking hits from the black pack while holding the moss ridden wolf’s tears on the other. Now her fur was that of a purple hue, a mix of the red hate from the black pack and the blue tears of the moss ridden wolf. Along her journey the now purple tinted wolf met a beautiful blonde bear who walked with her only when both the black pack and the moss ridden wolf were gone. “He’s no good for you” she would say as she walked on her lumbering legs before going back to her own life in the forest beyond. This repeated for too long before one day the black laced ginger wolf snapped at the moss ridden wolf causing her to run only coming back to the purple wolf to say goodbye. The black pack laughed as the purple wolf left her path to go to her den alone. She foolishly had gotten attached to the moss ridden wolf just to be left behind like yesterday’s meal. The black pack’s fur had faded, but the darkness never ceased. That night the purple tinted wolf weep silently to herself in her den before a badger wandered her way in. “Who hurt you? Who must I hurt for you? I love you like one of my own and so who must I hurt” the badger asked, as she watched the purple tinted wolf wept before she fell asleep. The purple tinted wolf woke up to find that the moss ridden wolf had come back, but when she tried to talk to her returned friend it took a turn for the worse. The moss ridden wolf wanted nothing to do with her old purple tinted friend.

She had used a raven to listen in while she was gone to find out the truth. The purple tinted wolf tried to be nice and show her she still had a friend in her. The moss ridden wolf just looked at her and just stared as she croaked out her desires, “I only want my to talk to the one I love, for no one may have him but me!”. Her fur soon became thick like that of a lizard as she stumbled towards the pack. The pack just watched her advance and they laughed, until the now lizard like wolf turned and ran. The purple tinted wolf tried to help but the lizard like wolf only wanted to talk about the ginger colored wolf. The purple tinted one had enough at this point and she snapped. “I have spent the last month trying to be your friend during this whole thing, and honestly, I don’t want to hear about the pack! I went with you to hunt and roam to get away from them but all you did was mutter and groan about the pack who you have caused to turn against you!”
The lizard like wolf just stared before she answered in a low growl “I will get him back! No one will stop me not even YOU!”
“FINE, you want to abandon one of the only people that cares about you? Go right ahead!” The purple tinted wolf shouted as she stormed away back to the pack who she now understood. The pack received her in open paws and even through it all the purple wolf still cares about the now lizard like wolf. She just can't be her friend, yet she still cares and so the lives of the pack and the lizard like wolf continued on. One day when the purple tinted wolf was passing a lake, she noticed she now had a black streak running the length of her light purple body.

title: [SP] The Troubles of Having a Soul

question: Will the white wolf become black?

answer: No, she becomes purple with a black streak.

question: Will the purple wolf abandon the lizard-like wolf?

answer: Yes.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: A white wolf makes friends with a moss-green wolf to try to nudge her on the right path. She was a white wolf at first, watching the grey pack, until it turned out their fur was black. She tried to shelter the moss green wolf, but ultimately the green wolf betrays her. She abandons the green wolf and returns to the pack, but in the process her fur has become purple with a black stripe.


text:
V SAGITTAE or V SGE is a cataclysmic variable binary star system in the constellation Sagitta that is expected to go nova and briefly become the most luminous point of light in the Milky Way and the brightest stars in our sky around the year 2083.[1][2] The system is composed of a main sequence star of about 3.3 solar masses and a white dwarf of about 0.9 solar masses; the fact that the white dwarf is less massive than its companion is highly unusual,[3] and V Sge is the only super soft X-ray source nonmagnetic cataclysmic variable found so far.

V Sge has brightened by a factor of 10 over the last century, and based on research reported in 2020, it is expected to continue to brighten and briefly become the brightest star in the night sky sometime around 2083, plus or minus about 11 years.[4] Over the last few months and days the pair will coalesce and go nova, eventually becoming a red giant star.

The stars orbit each other about every 0.514 days, and eclipse each other each orbit. The pair is viewed in the late stages of their spiral in. Their orbital period currently falls at 4.73 * 10−10 days per cycle, which will accelerate.

Material from the larger star is accreting onto the white dwarf at an exponentially increasing rate, generating a huge stellar wind. The doubling time is about 89 years.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

title: V Sagittae

question: When is the star expected to go nova?

answer: Around 2083, plus or minus about 11 years

question: How large are the stars in the system?

answer: One is about 3.3 solar masses, and the other is about 0.9 solar masses

question: How is the star system unique?

answer: It is the only super soft X-ray source nonmagnetic cataclysmic variable system found so far

question: How long do the stars take to orbit each other?

answer: 0.514 days

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: V Sagittae is a cataclysmic variable binary star system in the constellation Sagitta. It is expected to go nova around 2083, briefly becoming the brightest star in our night sky.


text:
[]I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was up to no good.

Her expression – eternal, enticing and vile – has, for centuries, lured many men to awful consequences.

Fortunately, a grumpy docent intervened and saved me from a similar fate…

Closing time.

He kicked me out and locked the beautiful, deadly spirit-girl inside.

I wonder if I’ll ever see her again…

Yesterday, I visited _The Getty Center Museum_ (one of my favorite places in Los Angeles) for the special exhibit: _Gustav Klimt: The Magic Of Line. _

It was a collection of one hundred Klimt drawings, sketches, studies, thumbnails and the most elaborate color comps I’ve ever seen.

I almost had to leave half-way through.

…and not because I was trying to escape the tempting gaze of that ancient femme fatale _The Getty_ curators call _‘Lasciviousness.’ _I hadn’t even met _her_ yet.

The awesomeness was just completely overwhelming.

In this post, we’ll go inside the mind of _Gustav Klimt, The Master Draftsman_ and gather four lessons that will supercharge your sketchbook…

Klimt-Class Lesson #1: You’re Never Too Good To Practice:

[DETAIL: Character Study For The Shakespeare Theatre by Gustav Klimt.]
Character Study For ‘The Shakespeare Theatre’ by Gustav Klimt.
Gustav Klimt, an austrian painter, famous (and infamous) in his day, is one of the few classic painters to have become a household name.

He’s the guy behind the iconic work of obvious title _The Kiss._

As evidenced in his very linear, stylized paintings, he was also a master draftsman.

When he died, he left behind over _four thousand_ sketches, studies and color comps.

The dude was a _machine._

He drew ALL the time.

…and most of his drawings are _flawless._

His sketches were so numerous and to him, incidental, that he let his cats play with them.

While you break down in tears at the thought of Klimt’s cats shredding these gorgeous drawings, check out this very cool video from _The Getty_ exhibit:

_[The video and the rest of this blog post contain sketches of nude figures that might be considered NSFW in some cultures.]_

I said most of Klimt’s drawings are _flawless _and I meant it.

He did almost no “searching” with the pencil and almost no erasing.

He just put pencil to paper and…

_BAM! Gorgeous figure drawing… BAM! Gorgeous portrait… BAM! Gorgeous composition…_

[Study Of A Seated Nude From 'The Beethoven Frieze' by Gustav Klimt]
Study Of A Seated Nude From ‘The Beethoven Frieze’ by Gustav Klimt.
If _anyone_ was worthy of skipping the studies and diving right into the painting it was Klimt.

He usually got the drawing right the first time.

But he didn’t just chump-out and settle for what was familiar or comfortable.

_He was always searching for the best version of the idea._

His many sketches and studies enabled him to move beyond mere skillful painting to the innovation of his ‘Golden Phase’ which is one of the most unique and inventive artistic styles EVER.

Klimt-Class Lesson #2: Sketches Sharpen Your Vision:

['Hope 1' [figure studies and final painting] by Gustav Klimt.]
‘Hope 1’ by Gustav Klimt: figure studies and final painting.
Lots of you are frustrated because you can’t get the vision in your mind to move through your hand…

…to the tablet…

…and onto the screen.

If the vision is still in your mind, _it’s still blurry._

If the vision is still in your mind, _it’s still just inspiration._

Sketches make your vision _clear._

If you can accept this truth and put it into practice, you’ll be a better visual communicator by the end of your next painting.

I know I’m probably over-explaining this (especially after last week’s controversial drop-kick) but this is absolutely vital. For many of you, it could bring an unprecedented peace of mind.

You can let yourself off the hook. Stop beating yourself up because you can’t produce a work of genius every time you open Photoshop.

Everyone struggles with this. Even the legends.

It’s just that the legends were more patient and determined than we are.

_Despite his remarkable drawing skill, Klimt had to sketch his way to genius._

That’s exactly why he did more than 4,000 sketches, studies and color comps!

“Great paintings don’t happen by accident. First, you must craft a clear, artistic vision through drawing.”

[ click to tweet this quote ]

Klimt-Class Lesson #3: Sketches Are Spiritual:

[Study of 'Lasciviousness' from 'The Beethoven Frieze' by Gustav Klimt.]
Study of ‘Lasciviousness’ from ‘The Beethoven Frieze’ by Gustav Klimt. [click to enlarge]
Klimt was convinced that the audience could understand the thoughts of the characters in a painting if the artist was determined and able to capture the right facial expression, pose and tone.

He began his process for each painting by drawing models whom he cast for the roles of the characters in the scene.

When it was necessary for a character to float, Klimt’s models would lie on a bed in poses that simulated floating.

The knowledge and muscle memory he gained from observational sketches of the live models informed the design of the floating figures in his imagination.

Klimt also made entirely new drawings for even the most minor variation of a character’s facial expression.

For example, in some of the studies for _‘Medicine’_ (seen in the _Lesson #4_ section below) Klimt drew a stream of floating babies. (Wow, that sounds especially weird when you say it out loud.)

He made many drawings of the same baby in the same pose and only changed the mouths (open, shut, relaxed, tense). He was searching for the expression which would most clearly communicate the character’s thoughts and emotions.

[The section from Klimt's 'Beethoven Frieze' which features the character of 'Lasciviousness.' She's the redhead seated on the back of the beast. [click to enlarge]]
The section from Klimt’s ‘Beethoven Frieze’ which features the character of ‘Lasciviousness.’ She’s the redhead seated on the back of the beast. [click to enlarge]
[Study for one of the Gorgons from 'The Beethoven Frieze' by Gustav Klimt.]
Study for one of the Gorgons from ‘The Beethoven Frieze’ by Gustav Klimt.
Many of Klimt’s preparatory sketches were very sparse – contour lines only.

Most of the floating baby sketches were like that.

I can’t prove it, but I think I could see that Klimt only continued to work on a drawing if he thought had captured some spiritual essence in the first few marks.

Most of his well-developed sketches and studies had an initial, emotional gesture to them. …and most of his seemingly-abandoned drawings weren’t as lively.

When I compare his sketches to the final paintings, it seems that Klimt’s vision for each painting became clearer with each sketch.

…and his sketches became more alive as his vision became clearer.

Klimt-Class Lesson #4: Learn On The Job:

One of the main objections to slowing down is: _“If I slow down, I’ll never hit my deadlines.”_

Although I understand that this objection comes from an honest place, you must remember a few things about preparatory sketches:

1.  They sharpen your creative vision and accelerate the final painting.
2.  They allow you to focus on the whole painting instead of struggling with anatomy or facial expressions.
3.  They’re a long-term investment. They build up your mental library of possible solutions to future problems.
4.  There are no deadlines for personal work. So why not properly prepare for the paintings which should be your best?
5.  If you’re legitimately under-the-gun, a little bit of preparation is better than none. You can watch a couple of deadline-driven examples which yield some pretty good results here and here.

['Medicine' by Gustav Klimt - Oil Sketch, Final Preparatory Drawing, Photograph of Final Painting]
‘Medicine’ by Gustav Klimt: oil sketch, preparatory drawing & photograph of final painting. [ click to enlarge ]
The nihilistic masterpiece _Medicine _has always been one of my favorite Klimt paintings.

I learned yesterday that the painting I’ve been in love with is actually just a preparatory oil sketch – Klimt’s version of a color comp. (I also learned that floating babies totally creep me out.)

[Detail of Hygieia from 'Medicine' by Gustav Klimt.]
Detail of Hygieia from ‘Medicine’ by Gustav Klimt.
The final painting was destroyed and some of the only remnants are an old photograph (seen in my side-by-side comparison above) and a detail of the main character, _Hygieia_.

_Medicine_ was commissioned by the University Of Vienna at the turn of the century, the time of the second industrial revolution. Back then, man was feeling pretty invincible and modern medicine was a trending topic.

Klimt portrayed _Hygieia, goddess of health_ as detached and unaffected by the “river of suffering souls” behind her as they flow upward to an unknown fate over which they have no control.

Unsurprisingly, the idealists in charge of the Vienna University hated it, rejected the painting and fired Klimt. _Medicine_ was the last public commission Klimt ever accepted.

Klimt put a TON of work into this masterpiece.

[Figure Study for 'Medicine' by Gustav Klimt]
Figure Study for ‘Medicine’ by Gustav Klimt.
There were several intermediate versions which were way more complicated.

I saw one or two well-resolved drawings of the scene with two separate streams of suffering souls.

(Those were the versions with all the floating babies.)

Although he continued to make revisions to the final painting in subsequent years (Yep. Klimt got all _George Lucas_ up in this one…) he committed to a much simpler composition for the final painting – more like the oil sketch.

Klimt thoroughly explored his vision as he pushed the boundaries of visual communication.

He focused his own career through this job, generated a bunch of new ideas that wouldn’t fit in this one image and he became a better draftsman in the process.

_Medicine_ was a stylistic and thematic breakthrough for Klimt and many of the ideas he explored while preparing for ‘Medicine’ he continued to explore in future works.

For example, he explored the idea of pregnancy and birth in the _Hope_ series (one of those can be seen in the _Lesson #2_ section above) and other works.  As far as we know, he hadn’t approached the subject of pregnancy until _Medicine._

_[If you’re interested, The Getty published a fantastic book with many of the drawings from the Klimt Drawings exhibit. If you order through MY LINK, I’ll receive a small commission.]_

If You’re Still Not Convinced…

[Oil Sketch for 'Medicine' by Gustav Klimt. [click to enlarge]]
Oil Sketch for ‘Medicine’ by Gustav Klimt.
[click to enlarge]
Artists email me _every day_ asking me to share all of my secrets about concept art and illustration.

These _are_ my secrets.

These are the proven disciplines that have worked for centuries.

Crazy freelance deadlines, the near-infinite scope of current video game design and the economic drain on movie & TV productions have relegated sketches and studies as a vocational luxury.

But if you want to grow as an artist you _must_ find a way to transcend the status quo.

This won’t be true for everyone but maybe some of you just need to stop making excuses.

_Slow down and focus._

Great paintings happen _before the paint._

question: Summarize the narrator's reasons for advising lots of sketches before a painting.

answer: The author points out that Gustav Klimt, a famous painter, had more than 4000 sketches. He thinks the sketches allowed him to practice constantly and seek better versions of a vision. Sketches sharpened his vision of how the painting should be to the most minute details, and in one case, he did many sketches just to perfect a facial expression. Finally, sketches are a way of learning on the job while being able to focus on the whole of a painting.

question: What does the article say about modern artists?


text:
“Hands”

It began almost as soon as I woke up. In fact, it was what caused my awakening. It sounded like there was something crawling within the walls of my bedroom. Mice, I thought. I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed.

I shower silently. I never understood people who listened to music or sang in the shower. Silence is what I liked. Even the sound of the running water made me cringe. The warm water pounded at my back. I felt something soft on my shoulder. I turned around quickly, a chill running up my spine. I turned down the cold water.

I tried to relax again, but the chill never went away. I stepped out of the shower and over to the sink. I pulled a razor and shaving cream out of the medicine cabinet. As I closed the cabinet, I saw the towel that was hanging up drop to the floor in the mirror. I turned around quizzically. Shaking my head and sighing, I bent down to pick up the towel and put it back on the rack just as I saw something scurry across the tiled floor to the sliver of space between the opened bathroom door and the wall. Fuck, it has to be rats. I quickly finished shaving and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Starting a fresh pot of coffee, I tried to remember if I had any rat traps left somewhere. Maybe that would warm me up. I opened the door to the pantry and stood on my toes so I could see the contents of the top shelf. I saw the outline of something and reached my hand in. I felt around until my fingers ran into something soft. It moved just as I went to grab it. I jumped and stepped back. Instinctively, I put my hand over my chest to calm myself. I heard the last few drops dripping into the coffee pot. I poured myself a cup. As I sat, sipping at my coffee, I convinced myself that it was only my imagination. Imagination? Wow, I haven’t used that in years. It was hard for me to even remember the last time my mind wandered elsewhere. Well, there were those times when I- no, I won’t go into that.

I heard a child outside, screaming with joy. I stood up and walked to the kitchen window. Pushing back the curtain, I could see the young boy running through a sprinkler. He screamed again, causing my fist to clench and jaws to lock. There was a sudden, loud crash behind me. I whipped around to find the coffee pot lying in hundreds of pieces on the floor. How had it fallen? Did the rat knock it over? I sighed and went to the hallway closet for rags and a broom.

I threw away the broken glass, and washed the mug I had used. I decided to check the garage for something to kill this rat that kept ruining my morning. I moved past the plastic containers, which were now starting to fill up the garage, to the tools. I really needed to clean them off from the last time I used them. I rustled through a box until I found an old poison rat trap. I opened it and saw it had already been used.

I heard the clicking of heels on the driveway outside the garage door. I sighed to myself and threw the trap away. I heard the doorbell ring and started making my way to the front door. As I was closing the garage door, I felt a tug at the bottom of my pant leg. I looked down, hoping to catch the rat red-handed, but the doorbell rang again. I huffed and stomped to the front of the house. I opened the door halfway.

“Hi,” a young blonde woman was standing on the old welcome mat, smiling at me.

I opened the door fully, “Hello.”

“I just wanted to introduce myself. I just moved in next door,” she smiled and held her hand out.

I looked down at her hand for a moment, then back up to meet her eyes. I shook her hand slowly.

When she pulled away, I noticed her fidgeting with her bracelets, “Well, it was nice meeting you. If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”

I flicked my tongue across my lips, still staring at her hands. I smiled at her, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

I closed the door silently and wiped my face with my hand. I turned around and saw grey everywhere. Rats weren’t the cause of my shake up this morning. All around me were severed hands. Shit, I left the garage door open. They began to climb up my pant legs. I tried shaking them off, but they held tight. I began swatting at them. They covered my eyes and mouth. There were just too many.

title: "Hands" a short story I wrote for my English class

question: What is the cause of the narrator's distress?

answer: At first the narrator thinks their home is filled with rats or mice. Then items get broken mysteriously, such as the coffee-pot. Then it becomes clear that their house is full of severed hands. However, it is implied the narrator might be hallucinating.


text:
Today is the day. The sun is shining and vibrant. The birds are singing their melodies. The air is warm and smells like spring. Who could hate a day like this? I sure as hell do. Fuck that bright, burning ball of helium. Why aren't there ravens knocking at my door instead of song birds chirping away? I want it cold and smelling like freezing dreams outside. Oh well. Today is as good a day as any for this. I've already called into work. My boss gave me my final warning for call ins and next time I do I'll be fired, and that's just fine with me. I made my last stop this morning. I bought a pack of cigarettes and a .99 cent coffee. I passed by the liquor store. If things pan out like I intend them to, I want nobody blaming my best friend on this.
The door to my apartment squeaks like my boots and I open and sit down at my table. I light up a cigarette. The dumb bastard at the corner store always mixes my cigarettes up. I tell him I want lights, and I get reds. Typically I berate him and hope he learns his lesson, but that doesn't matter today. He'll see my face on the news and remember me, and he'll probably smile. Dumb bastard. This cigarette is doing what cigarettes need to do I guess. I just can't stand this taste. In the end it won't matter I guess. Neither will this bottom of the pot coffee. God, you would think that I would've splurged today with all I have planned. Nope! I'll always be a cheap ass I guess. I'll be able to leave something behind it looks like.
I walk to my bedroom and reach behind the pillow. The steel feels cold in my hand. It feels like winter. Jack Frost will be nipping at my temple if things go the way I'll predict. I keep the gun in my hand and walk back to the table. This is where I'll make my final stand against myself and the universe I think. This trusty revolver holds six shots. I have one bullet loaded. I stare out the window to the outside world. None of them know what's going on, and probably won't until a week from now when somebody calls the landlord bitching about the smell. That's just one more time for me to inconvenience others, and that's fine. I stare down the barrel of the piece and sigh. It's time. I spin the chamber and put my finger on the trigger. Let's see how my luck plays out today.
I've been obsessed with the idea of luck for as long as I can remember. What's the probability of "x" happening in "y" scenario? I've researched numerous miracles and accidents and probability and all of that shit for years. Any given day I can win the lotto or meet my soulmate or end up on a plane making a stop in a New York skyscraper. My research didn't yield me a damn thing, but my experiment did. This experiment has been happening for 26 years. Some call it life, but I call it "Studies of The Effects of Existing on a Sphere in The Milky Way and the Causation of My Shit Luck". I've learned that luck is a whore. Some people sleep with luck and walk away smiling, wanting a sandwich and some alone time. Some people get fucked by luck and piss lava for the rest of their lives. I, for one, have been pissing lava in a metaphorical sense for 26 years, and literally for a couple of days. Fucking bar hookup. I digress, though. The clap is just evidence that luck is against me, and that leads us to today. My final experiment is as follows: chain smoke and see if I can win a game of Russian Roullete against myself. If I lose, then the probabilities have always been against me, thus giving me a post-humous doctorates degree for this experiment. If I beat the odds and survive, then all of this has been for naught and I revise my theory to "Maybe Subject X Should Be a Less Shitty Person". Let's see how this goes.
I light up another cigarette and take one more sip of this black tar coffee. I raise the gun to my temple and squeeze the trigger.
*click*
Analysis: I don't have the absolute worst luck in the world. I am mathematically luckier than possibly 20% of people who could possibly be in my position. Thank god I'm luckier than most of Africa I guess. This isn't much of an accomplishment though. Just watch the movies, nobody ever gets the bullet on the first shot. I still have four more to go, and all the time in the world. Time isn't much of a factor now, though. I could wait a million years and the bullet will still be in the same place. I'd be dead, though, so I can't wait that long. I put the gun to my temple one more time and squeeze.
*click*
Analysis: I'm luckier than 40% of people that could potentially be in this position. That's still failing a test, though. I'm still an unlucky guy. A month ago my dog got hit by a car. I was unlucky enough to see it happen. The bullshit behind it, though? It was a vet driving the car. Lucky me, right? Nope. The dog died on impact. How the fuck does that happen? I mean, seriously? A vet hits an animal that they have dedicated their life to save? That's total bullshit. That's what happens to dogs if I give them food and shelter I guess. It's a disease from being around me. That's what I tell my doctors at least. I think their med schools must've been shit, though, because they don't believe me. I know I have a disease. They need to put me in their medical journals for the "Fuckerius Luckus" disease. I digress. It's time to give this merry-go-round another go.
Point, breathe, squeeze.
*click*
Analysis: 60% isn't bad I guess. In this given position I'm not doing awful. I still have two more shots to go, but I'm surprised the data is looking this way. It's worth noting, though, that every shot I take raises the percentage of catching a bullet. The odds are stacked against me. It's nothing I'm not used to, though. This is living life in the fast lane, and maybe dying in a ten car pileup. Two more shots to go and I still feel nothing. Let's go.
Point, squeeze.
*click*
80% means I'm passing. It also means that I have a 50/50 shot of dying. I'm not afraid of death. It's not like I really want to die or anything, I'm just tired of living. I didn't write a suicide note or leave a heartfelt video saying goodbye. They'll find me and assume that it was just a random suicide with no rational behind it. I'll be just another victim of society, with my name in the news and people who barely knew me praising me on social media. I don't deserve praise. I deserve nothing. I'm just an average piece of white trash who does average things, besides the whole daring the universe to kill me thing. I'll be the next guy you stand behind and in front of at the bank. We're all just average until we save a box of orphan puppies or shoot up a school, then suddenly we were always something. That's the way of the world I guess.
I take a drag of the last smoke in the box, and finish my coffee. I look outside once more. It's really not that bad of a day today I guess. It's the kind of day where you can just sit outside and think about things, or go walk in the park. I never really thought about doing that before. If I can defy the odds, I'm going to the liquor store and buying a fifth and going to the park. That's improving a little bit, right?
My hands are starting to sweat a little bit. I put the gun to my head one more time. I breathe in and breathe out. This is it.
Breathe, squeeze.
*click*
Oh holy fuck. I'm alive. I'm not just breathing. I FEEL alive. Luck be damned! Probability be damned! I. Am. Alive! I grab my keys and head out to my car. It's a piece of shit, but it's mine and it does what it needs to. I made a promise to pick up a fifth and go to the park. Nothing can bring me down now! I beat the odds and the universe wants me alive! I don't know my purpose, but I do know I NEED to be alive!
I play the radio on the way to the store. I typically hate the radio, but I'm done with hating now. Bring on generic pop music and bless my ears! I pull up to the store and kill my engine. I walk with a hop in my step with the likes I've never seen in myself. I have the day off, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I'm gonna get drunk! There's nothing that can bring me down now!
I greet the cashier with a smile, and they just stare. That's okay. They'll be as happy with me one day and I will dance with them once they do! I pick up a pricey fifth. I can't really afford this, but I'll just skip dinner a couple of times. Nothing can bring me down today!
I stand waiting in line, ecstatic about what today has to offer. The guy in front of me is paying in pennies. If that's all he has then that's okay. It all spends the same and he gets to be happy for a little bit too! While the cashier is counting out the pennies, the guy in front of me reaches inside his hoodie pocket. He pulls out a revolver.
He points it at the cashier and yells for all the money in the register. She starts crying. I stand frozen. The cashier starts pushing buttons frantically trying to open the register. The thief is concentrated on her. It's time for me to be a hero.
I take a step towards the gunman. My boot squeaks. He turns to me in a panic. I breathe, he squeezes.
*bam*
Getting shot doesn't hurt as bad as you would think. It just stings, really. Then you feel your lungs fill with blood. Then you start feeling cold. You can't really get up, either. All you can do is move your head a little. I could see my blood spilling out onto the linoleum. I heard the cashier scream then another shot, and after that all I hear is chirping. The birds are still singing at least.My mouth tastes like metal. I start to grow tired. I lose the will to stay awake. I start to slip away into a dream. All I see is white. All I want to do is go to the park and get drunk. Damn my luck. Damn it.

title: Lucky [MF] (sorry for the layout, I'm posting from mobile)

question: What does the story say about vaping?

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

answer: The primary source of tension in the story is the narrator's luck. He thinks he has the worst luck in the world because of the things that keep happening to him. He's about the get fired from his job. He has no money and can only afford .99 cent coffee. The cashier at the liquor store always mixes up his cigarettes and gives him reds instead of lights. His dog gets run over by a veterinarian (of all people) and dies on the spot. He gets the clap from a random bar hookup. Although the narrator survives a game of Russian roulette with himself and goes to the liquor store to buy celebratory drinks, he gets shot anyway by the guy who was robbing the place. All he wanted to do was celebrate and get drunk in the park, but his damn luck prevented it.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's research and experiment on the probability of luck?

answer: The narrator's obsession with the idea of luck drives him to research different miracles and accidents over the years. His research didn't yield any results, but his experiment on luck did. In the narrator's point of view, he has been conducting experiments on luck for 26 years now (he's presumably 26 years old or close to that age). He calls his life "Studies of The Effects of Existing on a Sphere in The Milky Way and the Causation of My Shit Luck" because he thinks luck is a whore who hasn't smiled at him for 26 years. The narrator's final experiment is to chain smoke and see if he can win a game of Russian Roulette against himself. If he loses, it proves that probability has always been against him. If he beats the odds and survives, all his experiments have been for naught and he thinks he should be a less shitty person. His revolver is a six-shooter with one bullet, each empty chamber representing 20% luck. He manages to win the game by scoring 100, defying the odds. The narrator feels alive for the first time in his life.

question: Summarize the plot twist.

answer: The narrator plays a game of Russian Roulette against himself to prove that his luck has, is, and will always be bad. He somehow beats the odds and doesn't die after five rounds, disproving his assumption that he is the unluckiest person in the world. He feels alive for the first time in his life and vows to change. At this point, all the narrator wants to do is get drunk in the park because it's a beautiful day. He goes to the liquor store to buy something to drink, but a gun-toting thief who was robbing the place shoots him when he tried to be a hero. The narrator dies on the linoleum floor of the liquor store, blaming his damn luck.


text:
VENTSISLAV METODIEV MUTAFCHIYSKI (Bulgarian: Венцислав Методиев Мутафчийски) (born on 20 August 1964, in Dupnitsa, Bulgaria) is a Bulgarian Military Doctor, Professor at Military Medical Academy (MMA), Major General from the Military Medical Service, Director of MMA[1] and Head of the National Operational Headquarters for Fight with Coronavirus Pandemic in Bulgaria.

Biography

Ventsislav Mutafchiyski graduated as a medical doctor from the Medical University of Sofia in 1990.[2][3] In 1989, he joined the Bulgarian army with a rank of Lieutenant.[4] From 1991 to 1993, he was Head of Medical Service at IV Kilometer Division.[5] In 1996, he completed a specialization in general surgery.[6] Between 1997 and 2002, he was Assistant Professor at the Clinic for Vascular Surgery at MMA.[7] From 2000 to 2003, he was Senior Assistant Professor at the General Surgery Clinic at MMA.[8] In 2005, he specialized in military surgery and became a doctoral student the same year. He graduated in 2011 and was promoted to Associate Professor in 2012.[9] In 2014, he became Head of the MMA Surgery Department. In the same year, he became Deputy Head of the Academy. Since 2015, he has been Professor of Surgery.[10]

Since 2017, Mutafchiyski has been acting as the Head of the Military Medical Academy. On 7 February 2018, by decree of the President of the Republic of Bulgaria and with order by the Minister of Defense was appointed Chief of the MMA and Chief Doctor of the Armed Forces of the Republic of Bulgaria.[11] On 6 May 2019, by decree of the President of Bulgaria was conferred the highest rank of Major General.[12]

Family

Mutafchiyski is married. His wife Elena is a psychiatrist and they have twin sons Mark and Alexander (born 1994). Both sons graduated in the United Kingdom, Mark in Economics and Alexander in Law.[13]

Chairman of the National Crisis Management Staff

After the outbreak of the COVID–19 pandemic in the country, Mutafchiyski was appointed Chairman of the National Crisis Management Staff on 24 February 2020.[14] The general started holding daily briefings where he reads out statistical updates and takes questions from reporters. He quickly became popular and is arguably the public figure most closely associated with the fight against the pandemic in the country.[15]

Mutafchiyski has been consistently advocating the need for social distancing as the only proven measure that can slow the spread of the coronavirus and prevent a collapse of the healthcare system.[16] As early as 13 March 2020, he stated “The key word for all measures is social distancing and self-isolation”.[17] On 10 April 2020, he was worried that “there were bunches of 7-8 people on the streets” and has linked this to a spike in infections the following week.[18][19] Because the Bulgarian government did not officially shut down church services as done in neighboring Balkan countries, Mutafchiyski watched the Easter services only on TV, and was pleased that social distancing measures and the low attendance were sufficient to prevent the churches from becoming a source of contagion, despite reports that the number of people attending the Alexander Nevsky liturgy alone were in the hundreds.[20] His expectations were for another spike in infections related to increased inter-city travel during the Easter holidays.[21]

On 1 May 2020, the general was hailed as a hero by _Le Temps_ for handling the pandemic in Bulgaria, despite critical attitudes on his decisions in Bulgarian media,[22] and was highly praised for refusing to report discriminatory ethnic statistics against the Roma minority of Bulgarian citizens.[23]

Military missions

-   2000 Radusha Refugee Camp, North Macedonia[24][25]

-   2003 Medical evacuation of victims of the terrorist attack in Kerbala, Iraq[26][27]

-   2004 (January) Medical evacuation of the victims of the terrorist act in Kerbala from Landstuhl Hospital, Germany to the Military Medical Academy, Sofia[28][29]

-   2004 (May) Medical evacuation of servicemen from Landstuhl Hospital, Germany to Military Medical Academy, Sofia[30][31]

-   2006–2007 Surgeon at the Spanish Military Field Hospital, Arena Base, Herat, Afghanistan[32][33]

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title: Ventsislav Mutafchiyski

question: What is the role of Ventsislav Mutafchiyski in the Covid-19 pandemic?

answer: Mutafchiyski is the Chairman of the National Crisis Staff in Bulgaria. As part of his role he was praised for being consistent in his approach to the pandemic, from the advocation of social-distancing to the daily briefings. He was also praised for not using statistics to be discriminatory to the Roma community in Bulgaria.


text:
A North Carolina mother is _not_ currently in jail because she baptized her daughter. Or at least that’s not the whole story. And understanding the whole story is _vital_ to this case because the clickbait headlines aren’t helping.

What you need to know is that KENDRA STOCKS and PAUL SCHAAF had a brief relationship, ending in 2014, that resulted in a child. Schaaf soon filed for full custody rights for a variety of reasons, including religious differences… which was a little odd since they’re both Catholic… but whatever. Even Catholics disagree with each other. You’d think getting the child baptized wouldn’t be a source of contention, but they hadn’t set a date for the ritual.

In August of 2016, one day after Schaaf was legally awarded full custody of the child, Stocks took their daughter to get baptized without telling him. That’s what this is all about. That’s why she was punished. That’s why she’s currently in jail for one week.

It wasn’t the act of baptism; it was the defiance of a court order.

[]
  Jail records indicate Stocks was admitted to the jail midday Friday.

  “I’M SCARED,” SHE TOLD THE OBSERVER. “I’m sad about what has happened. I don’t regret having her baptized. That was in her best interest … I DON’T SEE HOW THIS IS IN THE BEST INTEREST OF THE FAMILY. HER FATHER IS SENDING HER MOTHER TO JAIL.”

That’s an emotional plea, no doubt, but she brought this upon herself by not talking to her ex about an issue he legally had a say in. Even Schaaf’s brother, the child’s god-father, wasn’t present at the baptism, his lawyer says, because no one told him it was happening.

  Given that the couple had spent the day before the ceremony in a courtroom discussing spiritual decisions relating to their child, [Schaaf’s attorney Jonathan] Feit said. “ONE WOULD THINK THAT YOU WOULD HAVE THE SENSE TO SAY, ‘OH, BY THE WAY, I’VE SCHEDULED A SECRET BAPTISM AND IT’S TOMORROW, AND YOU MIGHT WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT.’”

Why didn’t she tell Schaaf about the baptism? We still don’t have an answer to that question.

Naturally, conservative websites are spinning this into a story about how the legal system is punishing a mother of faith. CHRIS ENLOE at The Blaze writes that, “A North Carolina mother was sentenced to seven days in jail this week for baptizing her own daughter,” without emphasizing the facts that both parents were religious and she defied the judge’s ruling. His readers were misled by the headline and opening sentences. JOSHUA GILL of The Daily Caller also played that trick on readers with the headline, “Mom Thrown In Jail For Baptizing Her Daughter.” As if the baptism itself was the problem, not the violation of a custody ruling. Even the _New York Post_‘s headline was “Mom jailed after baptizing daughter.” _After_, not _for_. That’s slightly better, though it still confuses people who think correlation leads to causation.

Parents can still baptize their kids. The government isn’t coming after Catholics. But unless you read those stories in depth, you’d come away with the wrong impression. And that’s precisely what these conservative writers hope to achieve.

(Screenshot via WSOC)

question: What is the central complaint of the author?

answer: She's put off by the news headlines saying or implying that the courts are jailing a mother for her religious beliefs, for baptizing her child. The full details are that both the mother and the father are Catholic, and the father has full custody. The mother takes the child for a secret baptism without the father's knowledge, defying a court order, which was the reason for her punishment. The author thinks the spin on the story is disingenuous.

question: Summarize the legal case discussed in the article.

answer: The case concerns a divorced couple, Kendra Stocks and Paul Schaaf. After the divorce, Schaaf filed for full custody and got it. The couple further discussed religious matters concerning their kid at court, but Stocks decided to take their daughter to baptism without Schaaf's knowledge. Since Stocks defied a court order, she was sent to jail for a week.

question: What does the article say about God?


text:
YU-CHIN CHEN is an economist and researcher at the University of Washington. Her research fields include international finance, macroeconomics, open economy macroeconomics, trade and development, and applied economics.[1] She has served as a staff economist for the Clinton administration[2] and is currently an economics professor at the University of Washington. Classes she teaches include Macroeconomic Analysis, International Financial Monetary Economics, and Computational Finance and Financial Econometrics.[3]

Education

Yu-Chin Chen earned her bachelor’s degree in physics at Harvard/Radcliffe Colleges, graduating with honors in 1993. In 1996, she completed her Master of Public Policy (M.P.P.) degree from the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University. From 1996 to 2002, she continued her education at Harvard University and completed her Master of Economics (M.Econ) degree in 1999 and completed her Doctor of Philosophy degree also in economics in 2002, where her dissertation was on exchange rates and productivity.[4]

Research and career

From 1993 to 1994, Chen served as the executive secretary of the Hwa Yue Foundation, a charity organization located in Taipei, Taiwan that was founded in 1990 and has supported numerous Buddhist and charity projects across Asia[5].  During Clinton’s presidency, she served as a staff economist in the Council of Economic Advisors in the White House from 1999 to 2000. In 2000, she returned to her alma mater Harvard University as Advisor of Undergraduate Studies for the Economics Department, and a postdoctoral researcher from 2002 to 2003. From September 2003 to the present, she has been an associate professor in the Department of Economics at the University of Washington, where she is a Gary Waterman Distinguished Scholar and Graduate Program Director of the Department of Economics at the University of Washington. S [6] Moreover, she is a research associate for the Centre for Applied Macroeconomic Analysis for the National University of Australia[7].[8]. From 2005 till 2011, she has served as a visiting researcher and visiting assistant professor. She has served as a visiting researcher for the San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank (2006), Reserve Bank of New Zealand (2006), and at Academia Sinica in Taipei, Taiwan. In 2007, she served as a visiting assistant professor for the Department of Economics at Harvard University.[9]. She has also done extensive research on international finance, macroeconomics, open economy macroeconomics, trade and development, and applied economics and has published several publications. In 2019, she helped organized the inaugural Australasian Conference on International Macroeconomics.[10]. Her research includes “Can Exchange Rates Forecast Commodity Prices?”[11], “Forecasting Inflation using Commodity Price Aggregates” , and "“Accounting for Differences in Economic Growth”[12]

Grants

In 2005, Chen received the Royalty Research Fund Grant from the University of Washington.[13]

Publications

Her most cited publications are:

-   Chen YC, Rogoff K. Commodity currencies. _Journal of international Economics_. 2003 May 1;60(1):133-60. According to Google Scholar, this has been cited 739 times.[14]
-   Bosworth, B., Collins, S.M. and Chen, Y.C., 1995. _Accounting for differences in economic growth_ (No. 115). Washington, DC: Brookings Institution. According to Google Scholar, this has been cited 225 times.[15]
-   Chen YC, Tsang KP. What does the yield curve tell us about exchange rate predictability?. _Review of Economics and Statistics_. 2013 Mar 1;95(1):185-205. According to Google Scholar, this has been cited 127 times.[16]

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[14] [https://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C33&q=yu+chin+chen&btnG=] Google Scholar author page . Accessed 19 May, 2020.

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title: Yu-Chin Chen

question: What does the text say about Yu-chin Chen?

answer: Yu-chin Chen is an economist and researcher at the University of Washington. She specializes in the fields of international finance, macroeconomics, open economy macroeconomics, trade and development, and applied economics. She has also served as a staff economist for the Clinton administration.

question: What does the text say about Yu-chin Chen's education?

answer: Yu-Chin Chen earned her bachelor's degree in physics at Harvard/Radcliffe Colleges, graduating with honors in 1993. In 1996, she completed her Master of Public Policy degree from the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University. From 1996 to 2002, she continued to do her Masters's at Harvard.

question: What does the text say about her career?

answer: Chen served as the executive secretary of Hwa Yue Foundation from 1993 to 1994. During Clinton's presidency, she served as a staff economist in the Council of Economic Advisors in the White House from 1999 to 2000. In 2000, she returned as an Advisor of Undergraduate Studies for the Economics Department for Harvard. She then stayed there to be a postdoctoral researcher until 2003. From 2003 to the present she became a professor in the Department of Economics at the University of Washington.

question: What does the text say about her grants?

answer: In 2005, Chen received a grant. It was the Royalty Research Fund Grant from the University of Washington.


text:
[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
Google's original Pixel was one of the best Android smartphones you could buy this year, and it's a tough act to follow — even for Google itself.

The new Pixel 2 XL, is the larger version Google's new Pixel line-up, boasting a 6-inch screen compared to the Pixel 2's 5-inch screen. It starts at $850 for the 64GB base model.

The Pixel 2XL starts off with a big advantage over rival phones like the Samsung Galaxy S8 and Note 8, and the the LG V30: It runs Google's pure Android operating system. That means timely updates and nicer, less-cluttered feel than the modified software that other phone makers add to their devices.

But to top the competition, the Pixel 2 XL needs an excellent camera and fast performance. After putting this phone through its paces, I can tell you that the Pixel 2 XL strongly delivers, and it's _the _Android phone to buy.

Here's why:

The Pixel 2 XL is a solid, sturdy, good-looking phone, even if it doesn't quite match the premium feel of recent Apple or Samsung phones.

[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
I'm happy with the overall look and feel of the Pixel 2 XL. It's undeniably a premium device on the front with its all-glass front panel and somewhat narrow bezels, and the back is minimalist and tastefully plain.

If you're looking for ultra-premium looks and feel, though, the Pixel 2 XL may disappoint. The bezels are larger on the Pixel 2XL than they are on the Samsung Galaxy Note 8 and iPhone X, and the body of the phone is metal, but it's covered in plastic, which is what you'll see and feel instead of metal. There's the small glass section towards the top, which adds a nice accent to the phone's back. These days, premium flagships have been clad in glass or metal, which feel decidedly more premium.

Still, I don't think the Pixel 2 XL's less-premium build is a deal-breaker by any means. It feels positively solid, and the smooth matte plastic back finish is actually very nice. It's relatively light, too, which makes it more comfortable to hold and use.

It has a great screen, but it's pretty much standard among premium flagship Android phones.

[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
As far as the display is concerned, it's pretty much the same display quality and resolution you'd see on other flagship Android phones, like the Galaxy Note 8 and LG V30.

The Pixel 2 XL has a 6-inch pOLED display that's essentially the same as the original Pixels' AMOLED display. It makes for gorgeous colors and contrast between light and dark areas on the screen, especially when you compare it to the iPhone 8's LCD display.

It's a sharp 1440p resolution display that's also pretty standard among Android flagship smartphones, but it's technically sharper than both the iPhone 8 and iPhone 8 Plus. I say "technically" because it's hard to distinguish a difference on small smartphone screens.

Google made the Pixel 2 XL's display with an 18:9 aspect ratio, which means it's taller than the standard 16:9 screens that most smartphone had before 2016. Starting in 2016, many smartphone makers like Samsung and LG started making phone screens with similar 18:9 aspect ratios. Having a taller screen is actually quite nice, as you can see more of your apps' content on the screen.

Google also added the "always on" display feature, which constantly shows you basic-but-useful bits of information when the Pixel 2 XL is in sleep mode, like the time, or the fact that you have notifications waiting to be dealt with.

One of the Pixel 2 XL's killer features is the fact that it runs a pure Google operating system.

[]

 Antonio Villas-Boas/Business Insider
Nothing beats the pure Android experience from Google.

Almost every Android phone out there runs a separate layer of software on top of the Android operating system itself. This software layer is usually called a "launcher," and it helps Android phone makers differentiate themselves by adding features and changing the way Android looks.

Most of the time, the phone maker launchers fall flat. They simply don't look as good as pure Android, and their launchers can feel like they're bogging down their phone's performance. Like the original Pixel, the Pixel 2 XL runs Google's own Pixel 2 launcher on top of stock Android, and it's fantastic. It's clean, simple, fast, and responsive.

Some phones, most notably the OnePlus 5, run a near-stock version of Android, too. At the same time, only Google's Pixel phones get Android updates right when Google releases them. Non-Pixel phones are usually late to receive Android updates because phone makers have to make sure the latest Android update works with their launchers and hardware. If you buy your phone from a wireless carrier, Android updates also have to go through the carriers to make sure the latest Android update is compatible with the carrier's network and settings. All this causes significant delays when it comes to receiving Android updates.

In contrast, Pixel owners are always running on the latest version of Android, whereas third-party Android phone owner are usually lagging behind.

The Pixel 2 XL performs beautifully.

[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
The Pixel 2 XL is made by Google itself, much like the iPhone is made by Apple itself. The tight integration between hardware and software has a noticeable effect on performance.

The Pixel 2 XL runs on the newer and more powerful Snapdragon 835, but the the marriage of Google's Android OS and Google's Pixel hardware is so efficient that it almost feels like the Pixel 2 XL isn't putting any strain on its chip. That should make for some great future-proofing, where the Pixel 2 XL will continue to perform amazingly well for at least a couple years.

The Pixel 2 XL has a phenomenal camera.

[]

 Antonio Villas-Boas/Business Insider
As shown by the photo above, the Pixel 2 XL has a genuinely fantastic camera. It captured an incredible amount of cloud detail which I couldn't even see myself without sunglasses. It over-exposed a few areas of the clouds, but the Pixel 2 XL's camera still did an amazing job considering how bright the sky was at the time the photo was taken.

Amazingly, the Pixel 2 XL also managed to keep other details brightly lit, like the buildings and street. Normally, a camera has to reduce its sensitivity to light to handle bright sky detail, which would usually result in the buildings and street being overly dark. But the Pixel 2 XL balanced the differences in brightness beautifully.

I have yet to put it to the test against the iPhone 8 Plus, our current top smartphone camera, to see how well it holds up. Judging from the photo above, I'm pretty confident that the Pixel 2 XL's camera will have similarly good performance as the iPhone 8 Plus's camera, if not better.

Google also managed to give its new Pixel 2 phones a great portrait mode, despite only having one rear camera.

Most phones with a portrait mode, where the background is made to look more blurry, use a dual-lens camera setup, like the iPhone 8 Plus and Samsung Galaxy Note 8. The Pixel 2 XL achieves an excellent portrait mode with only a single lens.

Using portrait mode helped highlight the tomato in front of a blurry background, giving off a professional look. The Pixel 2 XL's portrait mode looks suprisingly natural, too, considering the effect is produced mostly by software.

The Pixel 2 XL also has portrait mode for the front camera, something other smartphones don't have — and it's really good.

The battery life is excellent.

[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
As with most phones fresh out of their boxes, the Pixel 2 XL has excellent battery life. It easily makes it through a typical day of web browsing, social media lurking, photo-taking, Google Maps, emailing, phone calls, and YouTube videos.

It charges quickly, too, with the included USB-C charger. Google boasts seven hours of battery life for actual real world usage, like "a mixed use of talk, standby, web browsing and other features, with always on display off," from just 15 minutes of charging.

The combination of great battery life and fast charging meant that I rarely felt the need to charge the Pixel 2 XL overnight. I could simply give it a quick burst of charging here and there over the course of a day and feel confident that I always had enough battery life.

One feature that Google hasn't yet added to its Pixel 2 smartphones is wireless charging. It might seem like a missed opportunity, especially when Apple introduced wireless charging to its latest crop of iPhones. At the same time, wireless charging isn't a feature I'm dying for. As I mentioned above, the combination of fast charging and the Pixel 2 XL's great battery life already gives me all day battery life without much worry.

The Pixel 2 XL has a slightly larger 3,520mAh battery than the Galaxy Note 8's 3,300mAh battery, but I didn't notice much difference in battery life between the two.

Google also added a couple new features we didn't see in the previous Pixel XL.

The Pixel 2 and Pixel 2 XL now have IP67 water and dust resistance, which should let the Pixel 2 phones survive in up to three feet of water for up to 30 minutes. That'll be handy for that one time you accidentally drop the Pixel 2 phones in water.

The Pixel 2 XL also has dual front-facing loudspeakers. I suppose it sounds better than the single downward facing speaker from the original Pixel XL, but I'd still use headphones to watch a movie or a TV show on the Pixel 2 XL. Having front-facing speakers does, however, make it easier to hold the Pixel 2 XL on either side without worrying about covering the speaker with your hands.

And you can now squeeze the Pixel 2 XL to bring up Google Assistant.

[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
This is a somewhat interesting feature that adds an extra way to interact with the Pixel 2 XL beyond tapping the screen, pressing buttons, or even using your voice.

You can squeeze the "Active Edges" of the Pixel 2 phones to bring up the Google Assistant smart AI assistant, as well as silencing a call. It's a nice little feature to have, as it lets you pull up Google Assistant from the lock screen without unlocking the phone. Yet, unfortunately, that's about all you can do right now, and you can't customize what you want the squeeze feature to do. It would be great if Google would allow Pixel 2 owners to customize what squeezing the phone does, especially for actions that users might use more often than Google Assistant, like opening the camera app from the lock screen.

Something to note: Squeezing the Pixel 2 XL to pull up the Google Assistant can be awkward, as you can easily accidentally press the volume down button in your grip. That wouldn't be a problem if pressing the volume down button while you squeeze the phone didn't prevent the Active Edge from working. It would have been better overall if the power and volume buttons occupied their own sides of the phone, both for the Active Edge feature and general use.

While it added features, it took one important feature away.

[]

 Hollis Johnson/Business Insider
There's no headphone jack on the Pixel 2 XL, despite the fact that Google poked fun at Apple in 2016 for removing the headphone jack in the iPhone 7. It's just something we'll have to get used to, as more and more phones are now being released without headphone jacks.

Apparently, Google removed the headphone jack so it could make future Pixel phones with thinner bezels around the display, and removing the headphone jack "sooner rather than later" will make it easier to "make the shift," a Google executive told TechCrunch.

The transition to headphone jack-less phones isn't so bad for me, as I've been using wireless Bluetooth headphones for years. And Google includes a headphone jack USB-C dongle adapter in case you want to keep using your wired headphones.

Curiously, Google didn't include any headphones at all with the Pixel 2 phones. That shouldn't be a problem for most people who already have headphones. But if you don't, you'll have buy your own pair. In a way, it make sense, as most people who care about audio quality would use their own pair instead of the headphones that are usually included with new phones. People who don't care so much about audio quality can use any old pair they have lying around, or get a cheap pair.

Overall, the Pixel 2XL is an absolute winner.

While it might not be the most premium-looking Android smartphone you can buy, Google's Pixel 2 XL is easily one of the best. Indeed, other Android phones like the Galaxy Note 8 and LG V30 also have excellent cameras, performance, battery life, and features, but the Pixel 2 XL's wild card is its pure Android operating system that other phones simply can't compete against.

If I were to pick up an Android phone today, it would be the Pixel 2 XL. And if any iPhone users out there ever wanted to try Android, I'd strongly suggest they get their first taste of Android by getting the Pixel 2 or Pixel 2 XL.

Get the latest Google stock pricehere.

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question: Google Pixel 2XL is noted to be a premium phone when compared with its competitors. Explain areas where it is lacking.

answer: Pixel 2XL, though is good-looking and sturdy, is made with plastic while its competitors use metal which gives their phones a much more premium feel. Also, Pixel 2XL does not have an earphone jack, though its manufacturer provided a dongle adapter for those who want to keep using wired headphones. Pixel 2XL has a large bezel compared to other premium phones like Gaxy S8 and the LG v30, which means less display screen.