text:
-   FACEBOOK HAS DENIED THAT IT THREATENED TO WITHDRAW AN INVESTMENT IN A DATA CENTRE IN CANADA IF IT DID NOT RECEIVE THE LEGAL REASSURANCES IT WANTED. "THIS IS NOT A THREAT," THE COMPANY TOLD BUSINESS INSIDER.
-   COO SHERYL SANDBERG TOLD THE EUROPEAN UNION AND CANADA THAT IF THEY PURSUED LEGAL MEASURES THE COMPANY DISAGREED WITH THEN FACEBOOK WOULD CONSIDER OTHER "OPTIONS" FOR INVESTMENT AND GROWTH, ACCORDING TO SEALED DOCUMENTS LEAKED FROM A LAWSUIT.
-   CANADA RESPONDED IMMEDIATELY TO HER REQUEST.
-   IT'S NOT CLEAR WHAT INFLUENCE FACEBOOK GAINED WITH THE EU BUT THE COMPANY WAS PLEASED WITH ITS RELATIONSHIP WITH FORMER IRELAND PRIME MINISTER ENDA KENNY DURING THE PERIOD WHEN IRELAND HELD THE PRESIDENCY OF THE EU, THE DOCUMENTS SAY.

Facebook has denied it threatened to pull investment projects from Europe and Canada if lobbying demands from COO Sheryl Sandberg were not met, the company told Business Insider.

According to court documents seen by Computer Weekly and The Guardian, Sandberg told government officials from the European Union and Canada that if she did not receive certain reassurances then Facebook would consider other "options" for investment and growth.

Canada gave her the written reassurance she sought the same day.

A spokesperson for Facebook, however, told Business Insider "this is not a threat." The company was simply doing the necessary due diligence needed to protect its users' data.

"Before we commit to opening a data centre anywhere in the world, we want to make sure we fully understand the country’s laws and privacy protections. This is not a threat to withhold investment, but part of our duty to protect people's data," an official said.

The documents were apparently filed under seal as part of a lawsuit in California between Facebook and an app developer, Six4Three. Confidential documents from the case have leaked online before, in an apparent attempt to embarrass Facebook.

Facebook told Business Insider it would not comment further. "Like the other documents that were cherry-picked and released in violation of a court order last year, these by design tell one side of a story and omit important context. As we’ve said, these selective leaks came from a lawsuit where Six4Three, the creators of an app known as Pikinis, hoped to force Facebook to share information on friends of the app’s users. These documents have been sealed by a Californian court so we’re not able to discuss them in detail," the company said.

"If we could not get comfort from the Canadian government on the jurisdiction issue we had other options"

In Canada, Facebook was planning to build a datacentre. But before completing it, Sandberg wanted Canada's then minister of industry, Christian Paradis, to send a letter reassuring the company that the existence of the datacentre on Canadian soil would not be used by the country to extend its legal jurisdiction over non-Canadian data held by Facebook. (Paradis was a minister from 2011 to 2013.)

“Sheryl took a firm approach and outlined that a decision on the datacentre was imminent. She emphasised that if we could not get comfort from the Canadian government on the jurisdiction issue we had other options,” Marne Levine, then Facebook’s vice-president of global public policy, wrote, according to CW.

Paradis agreed to send the letter the same day, CW reported.

An ambush at a party

In the leaked messages, Levine also described how Facebook staff distracted aides to Paradis at a party so that other lobbyists could buttonhole ministers directly. One aide in particular “made us look like real jerks” to the Canadian government, Levine told colleagues, and she was determined to put that right. CW described the stunt like this:

Together with her entourage, Levine was dispatched by car to a Canadian reception for finance trade and foreign affairs ministers “so that we could cut the awful staff person out of the way”.

Facebook’s team distracted the minister’s aide and other officials, allowing Levine to “touch base” with three government ministers and get their mobile phone numbers. “We were out of there in 20 minutes,” said Levine.

Facebook believed it had a "great relationship" with Irish PM Enda Kenny

In Europe, Sandberg tried to influence privacy policy via the Irish government. The company gushed over its relationship with Irish prime minister Enda Kenny, according to Computer Weekly. The Irish government has historically been very friendly to tech companies, and many — including Apple and Google — have opened operations there as a result. Facebook was happy that Ireland would take on the presidency of the EU in 2013 and could thus influence revisions to the European Data Directive, which preceded GDPR. Facebook believed it had a "great relationship" with Kenny, the documents say.

The next year, according to a separate Freedom of Information request described by CW, Sandberg wrote to Kenny after meeting him in Davos to suggest that changes in data protection or tax rules would prompt Facebook to look at "different options for future investment and growth in Europe." The company believed the directive was "a threat to jobs, innovation and economic growth in Europe," CW reported.

Although the EU did later pass GDPR laws tightening consumer privacy, the documents suggest that prior to that Facebook got its message through to Kenny: “We used the meeting to press them to make the EU Data Protection Directive a priority for their presidency. The prime minister said they could exercise significant influence as president of the EU, even though technically Ireland is supposed to remain neutral in this role,” the memo states.

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question: What did Sheryl Sandberg want reassurance on from the Canadian government?

answer: She wanted reassurance on the fact that the existence of the datacentre on Canadian soil would not be used by the country to extend its legal jurisdiction over non-Canadian data held by Facebook.

question: What was that Sandberg told government officials of Canada and the EU?

answer: That is she doesn't receive certain reassurances then Facebook would consider other options for investment and growth.

question: Where was Levine dispatched to?

answer: To a Canadian reception for finance trade and foreign affairs ministers.

question: What did Facebook think about their relationship with Irish PM Enda Kenny?

answer: Facebook believed it had a great relationship with Enda Kenny.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The text is about Facebook's COO Sheryl Sandberg's demands of Canada and the European Union in exchange for building data centers in these countries.


split: test

text:
[Hugo Henkel (1930)] Hugo Wilhelm Henkel (* 21 January 1881 in Düsseldorf; † 18 December 1952 in Hösel) was a German chemist and industrialist. He went down in history as the inventor of the Persil detergent.

Biography

Hugo Henkel was born as the third and youngest son of the married couple Fritz and Elisabeth Henkel, born von der Steinen. He studied chemistry in Stuttgart and Berlin, graduating in 1905 with a doctorate in chemistry. In Stuttgart he became a member of the Corps Stauffia Stuttgart. During his time in Berlin, he was a fellow student of the Corps Saxonia-Berlin.[1] From 1905 he was head of production in his fathers company in Düsseldorf-Holthausen and from 1930, he was head of the entire company, of which he had been a partner since 1908. He remained in this position until 1938, after which, under pressure from the National Socialists, he moved to the newly founded advisory and supervisory board. During his time as owner, the company took over some of its competitors. He was instrumental in the founding of the First German Whaling Company mBH, with its headquarters initially in Bremerhaven, and later at Ballindamm in Hamburg.

In 1914, he became a member of the Düsseldorf City Council as a representative of the Liberal Union.[2] On 1 May 1933, he joined the NSDAP (membership number 2,266,961). From May 1934 to 1942 he was a member of the Düsseldorf City Council and from 1937 at the latest, he was a member of the Supervisory Board of Deutsche Bank AG.[3]

As Hugo Henkel was one of the 42 industrialists on the war crimes list of the special committee of the U.S. Senate (Kilgore Committee), he was arrested in September 1945 and the company was placed under Allied control. In January 1947, he and his two sons, Jost and Konrad, were denazified. This enabled them to regain their property and to realize that the dismantling  and renovations between 1948 and 1950 were much less extensive than previously planned. He began rebuilding the destroyed industrial plants, which then resumed operations. He was committed to social and cultural causes. He was a member of the Düsseldorf Chamber of Industry and Commerce.

In memory of Hugo Henkel's wife Gerda, his daughter Lisa Maskell established the Gerda Henkel Foundation in 1976, which is dedicated to the promotion of science - primarily history, archaeology and art history. To this day, the Foundations headquarters are located in the neo-Baroque villa built in 1911 by Hugo and Gerda Henkel in Malkstenstrasse 15.

From 1905 onwards, he developed a scientifically based “method of hand washing”, which gained recognition at home and abroad. After taking over his parents business, he introduced new forms of advertising based on market analysis.

Family

On 19 September 1908, Hugo Henkel married the daughter of the sculptor Karl Janssen, Gerda, in Düsseldorf. Their children Karl Jost (1909-1961), Gerda Ruth (* 1910), Elisabeth (1914-1998), later known as Lisa Maskell, Konrad (1915-1999) and Paul (1916-1942) were born of her marriage. Paul Henkel died in the war on 27 July 1942 in Voronezh, Russia.A granddaughter of Hugo Henkel was the art collector and patron Anette Brandhorst, daughter of Hugo Henkel's daughter Elisabeth from her marriage to the architect Ernst Petersen.

Awards

In 1951 he received an honorary doctorate (Dr. med. h. c.) from the Medical Academy of the University of Düsseldorf and honorary citizenship from the city of Düsseldorf. In addition, he was made an honorary citizen of the University of Bonn in that year and on 9 October 1951 he was awarded the Normann Medal of the German Society for Fat Science for the year 1950.[4][5]

Literature

Kurt Eisermann: _Sie jagten den Wal in der Antarktis. Deutschlands Beteiligung am Walfang im 20.Jahrhundert._ In: Männer vom Morgenstern, Heimatbund an Elb- und Wesermündung e. V. (Hrsg.): . Nr. 799. Nordsee-Zeitung GmbH, Bremerhaven Juli 2016, p. 2–3 (Digitalisat )

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

title: Hugo Henkel

question: What does the article say about Nazis?

answer: Under pressure from the National Socialists, Henkel moved to the advisory and supervisory board of his father's company. He and his two sons were denazified in January 1947.

question: What does the article say about Henkel's family?

answer: Henkel was the third and youngest son of Fritz and Elisabeth Henkel. He was head of production in his father's company. In January 1947, he and his two sons, Jost and Konrad, were denazified. The Gerda Henkel Foundation was established by his daughter Lisa Maskell in memory of his wife. With Gerda, he had several children: Karl, Gerda, Elisabeth, Konrad, and Paul. His granddaughter Anette Brandhorst was an art collector and patron.

question: What does the article say about the specific war crimes Henkle committed?


text:
GRANT COUNTY is a county in the U.S. state of Nebraska. As of the 2010 United States Census, the population was 614,[1] making it the fourth-least populous county in Nebraska and the ninth-least populous county in the United States. Its county seat is Hyannis.[2] The county was founded in 1887 and named for Ulysses S. Grant, 18th President of the United States.[3]

In the Nebraska license plate system, Grant County is represented by the prefix 92 (it had the ninety-second-largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was established in 1922).

Geography

Grant County terrain is characterized by continuous waves of east–west oriented rolling hillocks on otherwise flat areas. As a result, the county is dotted with small lakes and reservoirs.[4]

According to the US Census Bureau, the county has a total area of , of which is land and (0.9%) is water.[5]

Major highways

-   [] Nebraska Highway 2
-   [] Nebraska Highway 61

Adjacent counties

-   Cherry County (north)
-   Hooker County (east)
-   Arthur County (south)
-   Garden County (west)
-   Sheridan County (northwest)

Demographics

As of the 2000 United States Census,[6] there were 747 people, 292 households, and 226 families residing in the county. The population density was 0.95 people per square mile (0.37/km²). There were 449 housing units at an average density of 0.57 per square mile (0.22/km²). The racial makeup of the county was 98.80% White, 0.13% Native American, 0.27% Asian, 0.80% from other races. 1.34% of the population were Hispanic or Latino of any race.

There were 292 households, out of which 37.00% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 67.50% were married couples living together, 6.50% had a female householder with no husband present, and 22.60% were non-families. 22.30% of all households were made up of individuals, and 8.90% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.56 and the average family size was 2.98.

The county population contained 29.20% under the age of 18, 5.20% from 18 to 24, 24.40% from 25 to 44, 27.60% from 45 to 64, and 13.70% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 40 years. For every 100 females there were 114.00 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 105.80 males.

The median income for a household in the county was $34,821, and the median income for a family was $37,011. Males had a median income of $26,319 versus $14,417 for females. The per capita income for the county was $14,815. About 8.20% of families and 9.70% of the population were below the poverty line, including 16.70% of those under age 18 and 0.00% of those age 65 or over.

Communities

-   Ashby
-   Hyannis (county seat)
-   Whitman

Ghost town

-   Duluth

Politics

Grant County voters are strongly Republican. In no national election since 1936 has the county selected the Democratic Party candidate.

  Year                               Republican                                Democratic                                Third Parties
  ---------------------------------- ----------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------- ----------------------------
  style=“text-align:center;” |2016   style=“text-align:center;” |90.6% _367_   style=“text-align:center;” |4.9% _20_     4.4% _18_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2012   style=“text-align:center;” |88.7% _322_   style=“text-align:center;” |8.3% _30_     3.0% _11_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2008   style=“text-align:center;” |86.7% _318_   style=“text-align:center;” |11.2% _41_    2.2% _8_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2004   style=“text-align:center;” |88.9% _352_   style=“text-align:center;” |10.4% _41_    0.8% _3_
  style=“text-align:center;” |2000   style=“text-align:center;” |84.2% _324_   style=“text-align:center;” |12.7% _49_    3.1% _12_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1996   style=“text-align:center;” |64.8% _258_   style=“text-align:center;” |21.1% _84_    14.1% _56_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1992   style=“text-align:center;” |55.0% _247_   style=“text-align:center;” |16.7% _75_    28.3% _127_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1988   style=“text-align:center;” |76.8% _301_   style=“text-align:center;” |22.7% _89_    0.5% _2_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1984   style=“text-align:center;” |88.5% _406_   style=“text-align:center;” |11.1% _51_    0.4% _2_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1980   style=“text-align:center;” |80.2% _373_   style=“text-align:center;” |16.3% _76_    3.5% _16_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1976   style=“text-align:center;” |70.4% _314_   style=“text-align:center;” |26.0% _116_   3.6% _16_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1972   style=“text-align:center;” |84.5% _376_   style=“text-align:center;” |15.5% _69_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1968   style=“text-align:center;” |74.9% _311_   style=“text-align:center;” |20.2% _84_    4.8% _20_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1964   style=“text-align:center;” |60.4% _304_   style=“text-align:center;” |39.6% _199_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1960   style=“text-align:center;” |76.4% _410_   style=“text-align:center;” |23.7% _127_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1956   style=“text-align:center;” |83.3% _433_   style=“text-align:center;” |16.7% _87_    style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1952   style=“text-align:center;” |81.2% _452_   style=“text-align:center;” |18.9% _105_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1948   style=“text-align:center;” |66.3% _273_   style=“text-align:center;” |33.7% _139_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1944   style=“text-align:center;” |65.5% _327_   style=“text-align:center;” |34.5% _172_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1940   style=“text-align:center;” |63.5% _423_   style=“text-align:center;” |36.5% _243_   style="text-align:center;|
  style=“text-align:center;” |1936   style=“text-align:center;” |45.3% _267_   style=“text-align:center;” |54.4% _321_   0.3% _2_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1932   style=“text-align:center;” |37.4% _251_   style=“text-align:center;” |58.9% _395_   3.7% _25_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1928   style=“text-align:center;” |70.9% _398_   style=“text-align:center;” |28.5% _160_   0.5% _3_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1924   style=“text-align:center;” |48.7% _260_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.8% _191_   15.6% _83_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1920   style=“text-align:center;” |64.2% _256_   style=“text-align:center;” |35.3% _141_   0.5% _2_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1916   style=“text-align:center;” |38.6% _157_   style=“text-align:center;” |59.2% _241_   2.2% _9_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1912   style=“text-align:center;” |34.8% _82_    style=“text-align:center;” |39.4% _93_    25.8% _61_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1908   style=“text-align:center;” |47.7% _93_    style=“text-align:center;” |51.8% _101_   0.5% _1_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1904   style=“text-align:center;” |66.9% _113_   style=“text-align:center;” |29.0% _49_    4.1% _7_
  style=“text-align:center;” |1900   style=“text-align:center;” |59.2% _148_   style=“text-align:center;” |38.8% _97_    2.0% _5_

  : PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS RESULTS[7]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4] [https://www.google.com/maps/place/Grant+County,+NE/@41.9075212,-101.876811,42239m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m5!3m4!1s0x8779e0dba3a61b69:0x76b1a77f4b2aed1e!8m2!3d41.8637754!4d-101.7979613 _Grant County_ Google Maps (accessed 21 January 2019)]

[5]

[6]

[7] Election Results

title: Grant County, Nebraska

question: What does the text say about Grant County, Nebraska?

answer: Grant County Nebraska was founded in 1887 and named after Ulysses S. Grant, the 18th President of the United States. It is the fourth-least populous county in Nebraska and the ninth least populous county in the United States with a population of 614, and its county seat is Hyannis. Grant County is represented by the prefix 92 in the Nebraskan license plate system. That number was chosen because it had the 92nd largest number of vehicles registered in the county when the license plate system was first established in 1922.

question: What does the text say about the household population of Grant County in the census of 2000?

answer: In the United States Census of 2000, Grant County had 292 households registered, with an average of 2.56 and 2.98 for family size. Out of these households, 37% had under-18 children living with them. 67% were married couples cohabiting together, 6% of the households were females without a spouse, and 22% were non-families. Out of the 22% of non-families, 8% of them had someone of 65 years and above living alone.


text:
I'm not a poet or a writer

The title of this is called 'Something Beautiful'
I've censored some names and details

Something Beautiful

If you have received this by now either: (1) something has happened to me,(2)***** , for whatever reason, decided to go back on her word to look through and read this along with anyone else who might be reading other than the intended purpose of giving it to you that I had already explained to her.

 Throughout the years that we have all known each other I’m glad to have had the opportunity in my attempt to try to know you. You probably know where I’m going with this but I’m going under the assumptions that you knew all along at some point that I had taken a liking or had feelings for you. This all started back when all of us took a trip to Austin and from there on out you know the rest: military ball, celebrating July out in the country, botanical gardens, movies….lots of movies….swimming parties, ice skating, and many other adventures of Tom and Jerry. I wanted to make things clear just in case there is no misunderstanding and through all the evasive, shy, and discreetness that I’ve known you for and for good reasons, I can certainly understand why. Perhaps I was coming on too strong, I don’t know, I’m a guy, I certainly didn’t want to make you feel pushed in a corner although when we first started to hang out it was awkward but I didn’t care. Eventually I got used to it and enjoyed the awkward silence just to see what would happen, bits of small talk and conversations here and there eventually broke the ice.

As to why I had these feelings is pretty simple. You are completely the opposite of what I want. You can take it however you want but it doesn’t matter because I’m not here anymore and there is no one else to get mad at. And if I am still here and you are reading this, shame on you **** and anyone else whose reading this. I’m about to list the reasons based on my years of knowing you and my conclusion at best, like I said before, you can take it however you want ….For shame *****.

…The opposite of what I want, ‘want’ has such a negative meaning, how about ‘need’ or ‘like’?

•Outgoing, social, funny, sense of humor, aggressive, assertive

Those are my main conclusions at best. *****, what I mean is that you are just being you. I have insecurities just like anyone else, somehow I get the sense that you are afraid to show something, something beautiful, it can be scary, well maybe you’re not scared, you just choose not to, I don’t know, your body language is hard to read and sometimes come off as ‘rejection’ or ‘refusal.’ I can see it by the way you are around Tanya, feeding off of her, but that’s what sisters are for, to look out for one another and there’s nothing wrong at all about it.

What I’m trying to say is that is what I like about you. It’s not hard, it’s very simple, I mean REALLY (but I could be wrong), you are simple. I don’t have to go all out of my way just to have an agenda, it’s either a yes or no which saves a lot of headache. I’ve always thought under the assumptions that you knew about it, I would just wait, waiting to see your next move. I never really expected an answer from you, just waiting, curious. Talking to Alicia long ago she told me that you already knew about my feelings and told me that it was better to stay friends. I don’t recollect that we had that conversation at all and I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that conversation if you had told me. But now that I knew, it didn’t really bother me that much. I continued on just like I had been, nothing had changed.

If you can remember we went hiking at the Buffalo Reservation walking around trails. Nice weather, walking alongside the river bank, and taking pictures. Nothing but peace, quiet, solitude, but also moments of awkward silence but I didn’t care. I contemplated to myself the whole time whether or not I should tell you how I felt. That moment when we were on top of the hill looking over the landscape, sitting on the bench eating Subway, the sun shining and a subtle breeze for a compliment. Living in that moment I decided not to, I held back. For some reason it wouldn’t seem fair to you at all. I didn’t want to push you in a corner. So in that moment of pure joy and bliss I let it go because in the end that was all I ever needed. It didn’t matter if you knew or not, what mattered was living in that moment of happiness, for me at least. I’ve been asked many times what my true goal or intended purpose was, luckily you have some very caring friends who were looking out for you. My goal was not to get you to like me at all, although it would have been ground breaking accomplishment and an awesome bonus, I only wanted to understand you and see if you were willing to be open.

Who knows, 5, 10, or 40 years have passed, maybe you’ve forgotten about me, maybe you haven’t. If you feel the need to burn this because it has been sitting somewhere on your shelf, drawer, attic, storage box, or wall and is a constant reminder of me than do so, I don’t want to hold you back. Carry on with life. Just know that wherever you are in life and through all your insecurities you’re not alone. This letter is proof that someone once cared for you, longing for your affection. You are the opposite of everything I ever needed and ever dreamed to want, something that I could never have nor dare to have possession of.

title: A letter to a very important person just in case I die...

question: What is the letter about?

answer: The narrator writes a letter that he wants to be read in case he dies. He writes to a girl he likes and recalls the time they spent together. He does not know when she will read the letter and if she will remember him.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's pets?


text:
“There are times, as an educator, when you can look into a student’s eyes and see their energy, their passion for learning, and you glow - knowing that you have helped foster their love of knowledge and understanding of the world around them. This was not one of those times,” Alex began softly, his eyes vacant as he tried to count the number of dots in the fiberboard ceiling tiles.

“In fact, as I lowered my gaze across the sprawling red-oak conference table I found my eyes resting upon a slack-jawed tenth grader who has developed a habit of making his instructors cry – precisely the last problem I needed to deal with this Friday,” he paused for effect, but Dean Fisher would deny him the satisfaction of acknowledgement while he scribbled in his notes.

“We sat in silence for what seemed like hours before I could reconcile what had to be done. Alex Decker would have to be put to death-“

“Thank you, Mr. Decker, but I have my own inner monologue to narrate, and it does not need any coercion into murdering a student of Williamson High School.”

The room was still. Dean Fisher was not a man who physically commanded respect, but he had a gift for declaring things with authority. The room remained still until Dean Fisher removed his reading glasses and put down his crossword puzzle.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Decker,” Dean Fisher let the name roll off his tongue as if he were trying it out for the first time, “Why are you making my employees cry?”

Alex resumed counting fiberboard dots.

“Mrs. Clemens won’t actually tell me what you said or did to her...”

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one…

“…this makes it hard for me to administer discipline.”

Thirty-one…wait, shit.

“But of course you know that. But what you didn’t know is that Daphne Clemens took her own life thirty minutes ago at her home in Clarksville.”

Alex felt the words hit him at once, sending his stomach plummeting to the center of the universe.

“She…what?” His lips were numb as he formed the words.

“She offed herself! No note, no nothing. Nobody knows what to make of it.”

“I…I don’t even know what to-“

“Okay, I’m fucking with you, Alex.  But for the love of god you have to stop calling your instructors fat.”

The relief rolled over Alex’s body in waves and he sunk into the leather armchair feeling both emancipated and savagely exploited.

“I didn’t call her fat; I didn’t call her anything.”

“You replaced her birthday cake in the faculty lounge with a replica that read “Congratulations on your thirty-five year pregnancy.”

“I want my lawyer.”

“You’re fifteen.”

“Touche,” Alex shrugged and sunk back into the armchair.

Dean Fisher studied the boy carefully.

“Dean Fisher studied the boy carefully. He definitely had to be assassinated-“

“Get out of my office, Alex.”

Alex stood, gathering his books and slinging his book bag over one shoulder lazily. At the door he spun on his heels, nonchalantly tossing a polished, delicious red apple towards his administrator.

It nonchalantly collided with Dean Fisher’s left eye with a sickening thwap. The swelling began immediately.

title: Alex Decker to the Front Office [~500 words]

question: What has Alex Decker done to annoy his administrator and how will he be punished?

answer: He has developed a habit of making his teachers cry. The administrator tells him that since the teacher hasn't told him what Alex Decker did to her to make her cry, he finds it difficult to decide on a punishment. Nonetheless, he has decided to put Alex to death.

question: Why is Alex Decker making his teachers cry?


text:
[Columnist image]

It is becoming increasingly more difficult to imagine a scenario that sees Los Angeles Kings defenceman Slava Voynov back in the NHL – ever. According to _Los Angeles Times_ reporter Nathan Fenno, who was in the courtroom today for Voynov’s preliminary hearing, it was alleged that the defenceman choked, kicked and punched his wife. Effectively, the allegation is that he laid a beating on her.

Back on October 20, Voynov was suspended indefinitely with pay following his arrest on suspicion of domestic violence. At that time, the Police Department of the City of Redondo Beach issued this press release indicating that a female could be heard “screaming” and “crying” and that, later that night, Voynov accompanied the alleged victim to the hospital where he was arrested on suspicion that he inflicted the harm.

DISTURBING EVIDENCE OF A BEATING

Here are some of the more disturbing allegations raised in Court today as reproduced from Fenno’s Twitter timeline:

- Redondo Beach police officer: Voynov's wife had laceration over left eye, blood streaming, red marks on neck.

- Officer says Voynov's wife said he struck her in the face with his fist.

- Officer: Voynov pushed wife to ground multiple times, kicked her repeatedly while on ground, chocked her three times.

- Officer: Voynov pushed her into flat-screen TV where she cut her face.

- Officer: Voynov's wife required eight stitches to close wound above left eye.

- Officer: "There's bruising, red marks, scratches on the victim's neck."

- At Voynov's home, the officer noted blood all over bedroom, including covering comforter and a bloody handprint on floor.

- Lead prosecutor Frank Dunnick: "there's evidence to suggest prior domestic violence" involving Voynov.

Fenno added that while he could only “catch quick glimpses of photos of the injuries to Voynov's wife” and there was “lots of blood.”

VOIDING OF CONTRACT, PRISON & DEPORTATION FOR VOYNOV

Voynov is facing a number of legal issues. Firstly, he could be deported. In the United States, the crime of domestic violence can lead to serious immigration consequences for defendants who are not U.S. citizens. Under a federal U.S. law called the _Immigration and Nationality Act_, a non-citizen can be ordered deported if he is convicted of domestic violence.

Voynov is also facing jail time. He was charged under Section 273.5 of the _California Penal Code_ for willfully inflicting corporal injury resulting in a traumatic condition upon a person. The charge can either be a felony or the less serious misdemeanor. The type of charge depends on a number of factors, including the severity of the injuries sustained and whether the defendant has a history of violence.

In this case, Voynov was charged with a felony. As a result, he is facing up to four years in state jail with an additional five years if he inflicted great bodily injury. If he had been charged with a misdemeanor, he would have been facing up to one year in county jail.

There is also a risk that Voynov’s contract could be voided (or terminated) by the NHL. The NHL CBA at Article 18-A.2 provides Commissioner Gary Bettman with very broad disciplinary powers when dealing with off-ice conduct that is “_DETRIMENTAL TO OR AGAINST THE WELFARE OF THE LEAGUE OR THE GAME OF HOCKEY_”. Among the punishments the Commissioner may impose is the termination of a player’s contract.

The voiding of Voynov’s contract would most certainly be challenged by Donald Fehr and the NHLPA. However, terminating Voynov’s contract would not be unreasonable if the evidence is deemed reliable. Ray Rice changed everything. Indeed, the dramatically altered landscape surrounding domestic violence may force the hand of the league. And the CBA gives Bettman the power to take action (although the NHLPA would argue there are limits to that power).

Only time will tell. For now, expect the NHL to do nothing and await the disposition of the criminal proceedings. Voynov will remain suspended indefinitely. Once the criminal proceedings wrap up, the NHL will make its decision. While things look exceedingly bleak for Voynov, they could get a lot worse should the photographs featuring his wife’s injuries leak to the public.

question: What are the downsides Voynov faces for beating his wife?

answer: He's currently suspended without pay indefinitely. Voynov is an immigrant, which means that he can be deported. His contract with NHL is at risk of termination, and he can face up to four years in prison. Furthermore, should the photos of his wife's injuries leak to the public, he'd be under public backlash too.

question: What does the article say about vigilante justice?


text:
“Mom..” a boy cried.
“Is it okay if I’m the only one that love you in this world..”
His mother, with a loving smile says” I would be so happy, that I couldn’t stop smiling”

I woke up. In the end, it was just a sweet dream. A dream that perhaps , I wish to stay forever. I got up, did my daily morning routine, kiss my father and go to school. Oh, I also bring my camera with me wherever I go. Not the hipster one! Just the regular simple camera type. You know, to capture the moment. Still an amateur though. Though it was a give I got from a dear friend of mine.
	A few moments stepping out, I notice a man. Perhaps he is waiting someone as he showed no sign of haste. The man turned. A trace of smile slid on his face. Pretentious postmen, I presume to myself. A letter and a box were given for a few signatures and the man left. Puzzled, I took the package not knowing what inside.
	Before my clever assumption flow, I was stunned. The letter senders were under the name Alexa, my childhood friend. I stood there for too long not sure what I’m doing exactly. Somehow I came back to my senses and impatiently went back to open the box. Inside it, were full of memories of Alexa. Her photobook, novels and deep down was her diary. With a large word spell “No Reading”.
	I was dumbfounded, what on earth she was thinking sending me this.  Still , the notion of her secret in my hand excites me . After taking everything outside the box a simple note was left underneath everything. It says “Read the letter first you dumbass!”. “Okay , okay . Seriously , like literally, she could order me around whether she around or not” . Wondering, I read her letter quietly in the depth of the silent living room.
“God, bless you for the beautiful moment we shared . Many times I once wondered , if you still have the thought of my existence at all.  I wish you were, if not then you weren’t. “Got a chase last night” the story I wrote, nobody knew but I couldn’t care less. It caught your attention though , and more and more you surprised me. Till one letter that make me fell for you. HARD.  Everytime I read your letter, that joke always catch me .Liar, told me to catch me even I was a storm. Hahaha, how do you intend to do that? I want to kiss you in the same time kick you.
God, blessed you with patient and I hope you are patient now as you reading this. I have come to realize that I love you .And my love still stabs me through the brain. I couldn’t find myself forget you. Like the way the wind hit you, you couldn’t help but face it. So much that this feeling is unconsciously conscious of you. I know I’m maybe exaggerating a little but I couldn’t help it.
Maybe I should end this letter here, for nobody knows what to expect in the near future but do me favor, let me go away.
						                                                          Alexa”
Huh, this is all to sudden. I reread it gazillion time again making sure what I read perfectly justify what I understood. Not long enough after that I found her picture, sick in the photobook. Each one shows her journey fighting cancer. I couldn’t believe she hid the fact that she was sick from me. More and more picture, more and more droplet of water stream down my cheek. I couldn’t hold it much longer after the last of her picture, smiling so brightly in the midst of dying.
Finally, I realize. Moments in life seems to go by fast and takes a long time one to realize, the best of it went by soundlessly. In the end, I kept her diary untouched.

title: [RO] Shutterbugs

question: Why is Alexa leaving?

answer: Probably because she is sick

question: Is Alexa still alive?

answer: No

question: Why did she hide her illness?

answer: not answered

question: Why couldn't she go without his permission?

answer: Not answered

question: Write a ~9 sentence summary.

answer:
The boy kisses his father and goes to school. A man hands him a package and a letter. The letter is from his childhood friend, Alexa. Inside the box is Alexa's photo album, novels and a diary that says "No reading". Under the diary is a note that instructs him to read it first.
She professes to love him and can't forget him. She asks him to let her go away.
Then he looks in her photo album and sees she's fighting cancer right to the end where she is dying.
In the end he doesn't read her diary as he realises that some moments in life go too fast.


text:
“I accept your nomination for President of the United States.”

With those few words, the young, ambitious New York Senator accepted the nomination on the grand stage of the Democratic National Convention in front of a robust crowd of his peers and fans. The venue glimmered with blue confetti and ribbon after the Senator’s response. Fellow Democrats applauded, fans cheered, and the entire room erupted with excitement. The Republicans had held the Presidency for four years already, and the conglomerate of Democrats across the nation had set their sights on 2016. They saw opportunity for change and options for success. They saw a chance to welcome a new era in American history. Their hopes rested on the back of one man: Patrick Ipsum.

Patrick had always fostered an interest in politics. He liked the interaction, the pressure, the importance of the job. All through his years of schooling, Patrick could be seen at the head of student government. It was in these early years of adolescence that Patrick developed his genuine personality, charisma, and honest aura, three characteristics that now stood at the foundation of Patrick’s image. People described Patrick as a people person: someone everyone knew, someone everyone had talked to, someone everyone could relate to.

Patrick graduated from New York University at the top of his class, double majoring in Political Science and International Affairs. He spent summers interning at city halls, mayor’s offices, and even the Governor’s office. Friends and family often praised Patrick for his ambition, confidence, and eloquence. Patrick could look at someone and instantly connect with his or her situation. It did not matter if they were friends for a lifetime or strangers off the street.

His mother supported him all throughout his life, helping him draw election posters in middle school, listening to campaign speeches in high school, commenting on slogan ideas. His father, on the other hand, a stoic, reserved man, remained aloof for most of his son’s endeavors. It seemed as if nothing Patrick had accomplished pleased his father, and this hurt Patrick tremendously.

“Mr. Ipsum, the question now goes to you. What is your stance on gay marriage?”

Patrick stood up straight behind the mahogany podium that shielded his lower body from the audience. His hands rested gently upon the sides of the dark wood as if cushioned by the softest of pillows. Not a blemish could be seen on his face and not a wrinkle could be spotted on his fine-pressed navy suit. The lights illuminated his soft face and the blue tie that sat with a perfect knot under his collar.

“I have said it before, and I will say it again. I believe that gay marriage should be legal in all of our glorious states. This is not a religious issue. This is an issue of equality. I would like to describe our nation as a place where all types of people can seek haven. No matter their sexuality. Gay or straight. If elected, I will continually support the passage of gay marriage laws until we reach a state of complete equality. Thank you.”

Patrick rested himself and looked to his opponent for a rebuttal. George Stultus, the hardcore conservative Senator of Alabama, stood at the other end of the stage behind a podium just like Patrick’s. His face showed the expression of an old, experienced man. A man who had spent a lifetime in politics, while Patrick had only begun his political career.

“This guy knows the game. He goes up there and makes me look like an inexperienced ass during the debate. He has been in politics for so long; he has an exact understanding of how to become President. Me, I’m some young Senator who decided to run and see what happens.”

“Listen to me, Patrick. I want you to shut the hell up for once second and take a deep breath. Why do you think I would sign on to run your campaign if I didn’t have a great deal of confidence in you? You need to stop this stuff right now and focus on the matter at hand. I don’t want to hear another word about this again. You understand me?” uttered Patrick’s campaign manager as he stormed of to attend to more pressing matters.

No one could ever prepare a presidential candidate for the rigorous campaign. Patrick began his campaign with rays of excitement, eagerness, and wonder. Traveling from town to town, city to city, state to state appealed to Patrick because it meant he could do what he did best: personal interaction.

“Why aren’t you that candidate for president? The Democratic one?” said an eager man standing above the table Patrick was seated at.

“Patrick Ipsum, pleased to meet you!” he said as he lifted the napkin from his lap and stood up to the great the fellow. “I am the man you are thinking of. I am trying to become the next president. You do have that right. Now, my friend, what is your name?”

“Joe, sir. Joe Burns.”

“Nice to meet you, Joe. What do you do for a living, Joe?”

“Well,” after a long pause, “I’m actually unemployed for the moment. I was laid off about six months ago, and I haven’t been able to get back on my feet. This economy is just killing me right now.”

“Joe, I am going to make you a promise. You elect me as president, and I will make it my duty to end this unemployment that continues to plague this glorious nation. I will put my word on that, my friend. You believe in me, and I pledge to make things better for you.”

“Mr. Ipsum,” taking a long gaze at the trusting eyes and genuine face that provided him with an unexpected warmth and connection, “I would just like to say thank you. You have my vote, for sure. Some of these big politicians in Washington don’t give a damn about the real Americans, but you seem different. God bless you.”

Even to the brightest of politicians, the campaign takes its toll and has different effects on everyone. The presidential race puts enormous stresses on the candidates and ultimately requires strength, resilience, and intelligence at all stages of the process.

“Are you kidding me? That is the second media attack this week. Why do they keep running these stories on us? God forbid, they run one harsh story on our opponent. I swear, I don’t think I’ve seen one negative story about that man. What, is he perfect? His campaign is flawless?”

“Patrick, the media is one of the craziest things in America. They make up fat lies based on whispers of mendacity. If they hear even an iota of a somewhat juicy story, they will run it. I know it looks bad for us now, but you just have to wait. Stultus is going to be hit by some bad press soon, and you can mark my words on that. Nobody said this campaign would be easy, Patrick. I’ve run lots of campaigns, and one is more work than the last.”

“It’s just so much damn stress. Everyday, I wake up and have to hope that the media isn’t against me. I have to hope that the public will still support me. I have to hope that nothing goes wrong. I don’t know if it is this media attack or the campaign in general, but I don’t feel too good about this whole thing anymore.”

“Right now, I am going to talk to you as a friend, not as your official campaign manager. The only way for you to feel better and for the people to feel better about supporting you is to regain that sense of confidence that made you known. Get back the charm. Get back the old Patrick that everyone used to know and love. You do that, and I am willing to bet that you will have success in this race.”
Patrick often remembered his father during the campaign. He remembered the blank face he’d always had when Patrick told him about his day at school. Patrick would tell his father about how he’d won the high school election, how he’d finally gotten that internship at the Governor’s office. Numerous achievements that all left his father apparently unchanged.

“Dad, I won the class election at school. You’re looking at the new Eleventh Grade Class President!”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“It was a total landslide. The other candidate only got, like, twenty votes. I swept the entire election! I think it was my speech. I really tried to connect with the students. I think it worked. It might have been the awesome posters that Mom and I made.”

“That’s great.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said as he turned away from his father and made his way upstairs.

The fact that his father never truly took pride in his son utterly tormented Patrick. This torment fermented into a deep, uninhibited drive for success in Patrick. Everything he had done, everything he would do was, in an effort to bring some sort of change to the blank, cold face of his father.

Patrick realized that his whole life had been an attempt to impress his father and finally gain his true pride. Patrick pushed himself to the limits with the hopes of attaining some sort of satisfaction. He desired a form of gratification; he wanted to hear an appreciation for all his hard work. Patrick Ipsum, a man who had already experienced a great amount of success in his life, could not accept the fact that his father never expressed pride for him. Patrick’s cold paternal relationship remained the sole problem in his life. To some extent, all that he had accomplished thus far, his stellar performance throughout school, his early success in the game of American politics, his chances of becoming the next United States’ President, did not mean anything to Patrick without a sense of love and pride.

“My name is Patrick Ipsum. Believe in me. Believe in this nation. Vote Ipsum tomorrow!”

Those words echoed over the loudspeaker at the high school stadium in Tampa Bay, Florida. Patrick stood upon the stage for what seemed like hours, smiling at the crowd of cheering supporters and waving feverishly at every single one. The effects of the campaign could be seen on Patrick as he stood on that stage. The youthful face that once glimmered with excitement was now speckled with blemishes and the occasional wrinkle. Patrick’s eyes did not show the expression of a hopeful, young Senator, but rather they depicted the expression of a man who had been changed. A man who had experienced firsthand the hardships and troubles with a political career. A young man who had come into this race with just too much on his plate. Patrick Ipsum represented a man who had tried to do everything but had not realized the difficulties of it all.

 Patrick dealt with the long nights, tiring commutes from state to state, and constant attention easily. The physical constraints of the campaign proved tough for the candidate, but rather the mental hardships of the campaign had broken down the once hopeful Senator. It was the doubt and the thought that all of the endless, stressful work could possibly amount to nothing that tormented Patrick. This factor, the unpredictability of the entire election, remained the only idea that infected Patrick’s brain and altered his mentality during the campaign.

The staff sat around the coffee table in Patrick Ipsum’s suite at the Hilton Hotel. Takeout food containers littered the floor, paper coffee cups spotted the tables and desks around the room, and individuals sat in chairs and on the floor. Faces were illuminated by the white glow of laptops and iPhones. The sound of vibrating phones and clattering keyboards buzzed around the room as members of the campaign calculated the probabilities and attempted to look up the current standings. The candidate, Patrick Ipsum, sat in an armchair, staring at the CNN broadcast on the television. Patrick looked at the screen with the blankest of expressions.

The race remained close for the entire night. Ipsum took the lead early, but then Stultus inched ahead. It went back and forth between the two hopeful candidates, but neither of the two achieved a substantial lead. The staff knew it would be a close one, but they had severely underestimated their opponent. Stultus took states that the staff had assured Ipsum he would sweep. Moods remained optimistic until Stultus took Florida. Once the state filled with red, the staff’s chat died to a silence. Everyone in the room knew how the night would turn out.

Patrick remained in his armchair for the remainder of the night. He remained in it when they announced Stultus’ victory. He remained in it when his staff began their work on a concession speech. He sat there, speechless with the same blank expression on his face. He reviewed the events of the last year of his life. He thought about the unthinkable amount of work he and his staff had put into this campaign for this, a loss. He was disappointed in himself.

A phone began vibrating on the coffee table. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Patrick’s eyes jumped to the phone, realizing it was his own. He pulled himself up, slowly as if he were stuck to the chair. He read the name on the screen: Dad. His hand grasped the phone and pulled it close to his ear.

Patrick stared in disbelief at the phone for a second but then accepted the call.

“Son, It’s me, Dad. I know we haven’t talked in a while. I just wanted to call and let you know that I’m proud of you...”

The phone slowly slipped from Patrick’s grasp. As it fell to the floor, Patrick remained standing for a moment. He then returned to his relaxed position in the armchair. Patrick closed his eyes and smiled, wiping away the tears on his cheek.

title: [RF] The Candidate (any feedback would be wonderful)

question: What made Patrick think of running for President?

answer: Throughout his life, Patrick turned out to be a leader, in school and in college. It may be implied that this very nature of his made him think of becoming a leader and running for President.

question: What do Patrick's thoughts say about his ideologies?

answer: It may be implied that Patrick is someone who is open-minded and believes in equality.


text:
ONG&ONG is a multi-disciplinary design company, established in 1972 by Ong Teng Cheong and his wife Ling Siew May. Ong Teng Cheong is the first elected President of Singapore.[1][2]

The company has offices in China, Vietnam, Malaysia, Indonesia, Mongolia and Thailand with its headquarters in Singapore.[3] In 1997 the company received Architecture Heritage Award by Government of Singapore for its work on CHIJMES.[4]

History

The company was founded in 1972 by Ong Teng Cheong (Singapore’s fifth President) and his wife Ling Siew May as Ong & Ong Architects & Town Planners. It was incorporated in 2007 as ONG & ONG Private Limited.[5]

In 2001, Ong Teng Cheong's youngest son Ong Tze Boon took over the charges of the company as the Group Executive Chairman. He increased the size of the company from 60 employees to nearly 1,000 spread across eight countries.[6]

Ashvinkumar Kantilal is the Group Chief Executive Officer, joining the company in 2010.[7][8]

Philanthropy

In 2012 the company started ONG foundation to support and champion initiatives in the areas of Education, Health and the Arts.[9]

In 2016 ONG&ONG collaborated with Nanyang Polytechnic to support its students with the development of design concepts to market ready products.[10] The company committed $100k in funds to this purpose.[11]

Notable Works

The company has worked with many notable & historical buildings worldwide

-   CHIJMES[12][13][14]
-   Bedok Public Library[15]
-   Al-Ansar Mosque[16]
-   Heartbeat@Bedok[17][18]
-   Bishopsgate House[19]
-   Sloane Residences[20]
-   80ADR-House (223 m²) is renovate in 2017 by ONG&ONG[21][22]

Awards

-   Singapore’s Top 10 Architects by BCI for many consecutive years: 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2018 and 2019[23][24]
-   Good Design Award 2019 for Chicago Athenaeum[25]
-   SG Mark Award 2019 for Bedok Public Library and BeyondPak[26][27]
-   WIN Awards 2019 for American International Hospital & Bedok Public Library[28][29]
-   Asia Pacific Property Awards 2019 for Architecture in different countries (5 Star Award winner)[30]
-   HDB Design Awards 2019 for Jurong Central Plaza under Rejuvenation category[31]
-   International Property Awards 2018 for Monterey Residences[32]
-   Asia Pacific Property Awards 2018 for Architecture in different countries (5 Star Award winner)[33]
-   A’ Design Awards (Gold Winner) 2018 for Faber-House and KAP-House[34][35]
-   International Architecture Awards 2018 for Gateway Theatre and KAP-House[36]
-   Architecture Masterprize 2018 Winners for Heartbeat@Bedok, Al-Ansar Mosque[37] and Bishopsgate House[38]
-   ArchDaily Building of the Year 2009 for 55 Blair Road[39]
-   Architecture Heritage Awards 1997 for CHIJMES by Government of Singapore[40]

Resources

Category:Architecture firms of Singapore Category:Singaporean companies established in 1972 Category:Landscape architecture Category:Urban design Category:Design companies established in 1972

[1]  Infopedia |url=https://eresources.nlb.gov.sg/infopedia/articles/SIP_898_2004-12-24.html |website=eresources.nlb.gov.sg}}

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]  ONG&ONG |url=https://www.ong-ong.com/about/ |website=www.ong-ong.com}}

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]  Radcrete |url=https://www.radcrete.com.au/project/chijmes-singapore |website=www.radcrete.com.au}}

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]  Habitus Living |url=https://www.habitusliving.com/architecture/tropical-modernism-80adr-house-ongong |website=Habitusliving.com |date=27 May 2019}}

[23]

[24]

[25]

[26]  SG Mark |url=https://sgmark.org/winners-2019/ |website=Sgmark |language=en}}

[27]

[28]

[29]

[30]

[31]

[32]

[33]

[34]

[35]

[36]

[37]

[38]

[39]

[40]

title: ONG&ONG

question: What does the article say about the 2000s?

answer: The company was incorporated in 2007 as ONG & ONG Private Limited. In 2001, Ong Teng Cheong's youngest son took over the charges of the company as the Group Executive Chairman. The company won the ArchDaily Building of the Year in 2009 for 55 Blair Road.

question: What does the article say about the 1980s?


text:
	He pulled the sytrofoam cup to his chapped lips and took a drink. The warm coffee engulfed his throat with the beautiful poison keeping him awake on a morning like this. The morning dew barely left traces of its beauty as he scanned over the desolate park. His weary eyes didn’t see much but his knowledge helped him fill in the gaps. He was nearing the ripe old age of 60 but he sure didn’t feel it. At least, not now; he was too happy. He looked around again before taking another long drag from his bitter black beverage. He glanced at his scratched up watch and took note that he had a few more minutes of the pure bliss before him. He chuckled out loud, knowing full well that the watch stopped working a while ago. He just assumed it was time to go and he took another long sip of the warm coffee before sighing, this was going to be a long day.

	The wise but old man started walking to the gate of the park with his briefcase loyally at his side. He crossed the park, getting his worn shoes wet but the he didn’t care; the morning dew was a rare occurrence in this busy city. He reached the edge of the park and left, throwing away his empty cup and mentally preparing himself for the day before him. As he walked along the empty sidewalks, he couldn’t help but admire the true beauty of the city before him. He had seen the city too many times to admire skyscrapers reaching toward the sky, yet he couldn’t help but feel relieved; almost safe.

	He reached a crosswalk and waited, seeing his destination rise before him. A small woman stopped next to him, talking on the phone with someone about drapes. He couldn’t help but overhear since the young lady was making sure everyone in the city could hear what color her dining room drapes would be. The old man looked both ways before leaving the annoying amateur decorator. He made it four steps, four steps exactly before he heard a loud noise. A noise he knew way before he turned to face the monstrous machine rumbling toward him. His wide eyes couldn’t help but stare as the semi hurtled toward him. He stumbled toward the other of the street before diving out of the way, narrowly missing his inevitable death. He cheated death too many times before; he just didn’t think it would catch up to him this quickly. He stood up and brushed himself off, making sure all his pieces were still attached and healthy. He somewhat chuckled to himself, he couldn’t believe what happened. The lady from across the street was stunned, barely believing herself what just happened. He threw her a quick smile before picking up his briefcase and entering his job. He saw his watch as he opened the door to the superfluous lobby and saw one more scratch added to his timepiece. One more scratch, one more memory, one more wrinkle he laughed to himself.

	The receptionist saw the old man and beckoned him to go sit down and wait for his appointment with the boss. He sat down and eagerly grabbed the nearest magazine he could get his hands on. On the outside he looked nervous, he anxiously kept looking around for someone to break up the awkward silence he was sharing with the receptionist. On the inside he was confident; he knew what he was doing, he’s been doing this for over fifteen years and this was just a part of the act. He was the director of his own play and he had the lines for all the actors. From beginning to end, he controlled the whole play. Except this play was a con. It was somewhat simple, go drink at the bars near the big business buildings. The perfect timing was lunch or an hour or two after businesses closed their white collar doors. He would go make rounds around the bar, being friendly to different groups of people, finding, no…searching for the one person he could instill trust in and reap the benefits for. He would then find a drunk in a suit and buy another round for him and his buddies. Then the waiting game ensued, picking up on subtle hints to project the perfect business plan for their company. Give the business card to the drunken idiot with a monkey suit on and let the rest of the part play out. Wait a couple days and receive a call wanting to get in business. His business was purely artificial, ranging from the fake business cards and the fake website to the fake business plan. He was a confidence man, and he had had fooled everyone from the west coast to the big apple. He was on his last legs and needed one last score to go into retirement for good.

	“Harvey Calvin?” the receptionist asked. I don’t know why she didn’t just stand up and lead the way for the only person in the lobby but the old man nervously stood up, before dropping all the contents in his briefcase. He quickly shuffled on the papers and pens back into the worn leather case and walked toward the desk.
	“Mr. Holloway will see you now.” She smiled, leading the way with her hand toward the elevator. He quickly nodded and quietly made his way toward the elevator.
	“Sir, it’s floor fifteen, room is at the end of the hall.” He replied back with a small thank you but he was well aware where his office was, along with how big it was, security checkpoints were as well as how fast he could get out of there without being seen. He knew they were watching him from the minute he stepped into the building but he knew his little act wasn’t going to be enough.

	He stepped into the elevator and hit the 15th floor button before sighing again. The hard part was coming up and he knew it had to be a homerun or else he would lose all the time and effort he put into this score.  He lost the will to enjoy the con game. It started out fun, scam people out of money through a simple lie and just keeps going along with it. Each con brought more money but more problems. He lost too many things throughout his fifteen year tenure.

	The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and his weary eyes laid upon an angel. Her dirty blonde hair fell upon her shoulders with time itself stopping gravity from affecting such a fine piece of art. She was busy looking down at the portfolio as she entered the elevator, telling him to go to floor 15 as well. She looked up to say thanks and she froze. Her lips trembled before smiling.
	“William? What are you doing here?” she closed the portfolio and reached for a hug. The old man was reluctant after hearing his real name after a long while. He was caught up in some many aliases he sometimes forgot what his real name was. He accepted the hug before glancing up at the floors and wishing the 15th floor was a lot closer.
	“I’m here for business” he muttered, knowing full well that he wasn’t. He was here to scam the legal pigs out of their pensions for his own retirement. Her smile became less and less as time went on because she knew the truth.
	“I thought you stopped?” the four words cut through his soul with ice daggers and hit his heart with full force. He stumbled over his words trying to convey that this was the last time and he truly cared for her even since that horrible night eight years ago. All that left his dirty mouth were the words I’m sorry. She scoffed at the response and her warm face turned ice cold and she stared at the elevator doors, waiting for the earliest attempt to leave him once again. The doors opened on floor seven and she rushed out and letting a couple young businessmen in the elevator. His thoughts were clouded as he barley heard the young men tell him floor twelve.

	He finally made it to his destination and stepped out of the elevator. He completely forgot why he was even there before Mr. Holloway yelled at him from across the entire floor that he was late. He hurried over to the office and he sat down on the uncomfortable chair that the big boss at the corporation made sure was there. Josh Holloway, or Mr. Holloway to many people, was a sick, twisted man. He swindled money out of poor people to finance his second yacht sitting out on the river, just waiting for him after a successful business deal with a nervous amateur with a secret. Holloway treated his employees like dirt, but ensuring them enough money to stay and work for him. He was a cold man with only one goal in mind: money. He beckoned the old amateur in and told him to sit down.

	“We took a look at the investment you offered us last night, and I have to say: we’re not amazed. We’re happy, yes. But amazed? No. You’re plan is brilliant but it needs some tweaking. We cannot offer a big deal unless we start with something small. Low risk might bring us low reward but it will also build a sense of high trust between me and you, Mr. Calvin.” The boss finished his monologue and looked across the rich, walnut desk to the trembling man in the uncomfortable chair. This was his time to shine, the old man thought to himself. He opened his briefcase and handed him a couple papers, detailing what all the rival companies did and explained that what Mr. Holloway wanted to do was safe and low risk but also common. Of course, the papers were all forged. If the boss was smart enough he could call up the New York Stock Exchange and question these numbers and the old man would be thrown out without a moment’s hesitation. But the boss was greedy. He wanted money but above all else; he wanted to be the winner. He wanted to crush his opponents and if his opponents were doing the same thing and barely scraping by, he had two options. The old man knew that this was the worst part of the con because it was all up to Mr. Holloway or any CEO’s to make a moral decision: stay the same course as the rest of his rivals and go low risk and maybe come out on top of his competitors or trust the nervous man and invest a high risk situation for a high reward.

	“Mr. Holloway, all your competitors did the very exact thing you are about to do. That’s a good idea, it would be better to be on the same level that to fall behind. I’ll talk to the investors and have them set up another $50,000 investment.” The old man was barley done finishing his closing arguments before the boss stopped him. The boss chuckled before telling him that wasn’t necessary. He called his receptionist in and a briefcase. They both knew what the contents had and they both couldn’t be more excited about the transaction between the two.
“Mr. Calvin, I worked too damn hard to be stagnant with my competitors. I need to be better than them and demolish them in the process.” He opened the briefcase and smiled.
	“Tell your investors to invest $500,000 and make sure we don’t get caught” The old man smiled as he reached across to shake the stupendously stupid boss’s hand. They shook hands and they both smiled, shortly after the old man reassuring him that the return rate will be exponential compared to his competitors. But, before he could leave, the boss had a question.
	“I’m so glad your calm now, but why were you nervous before? You are an excellent sales person. If this deal goes well, I might just get a job with you here.” The old man smiled. He had heard this countless times before and he would always defend his nervousness with how he always dealt with small businesses and never with big corporations with futures. But this time was the response was different.
	“I was walking this morning and this truck almost hit me. I could’ve died today but what struck me was that there was no moment where I relived all the good moments in my life. There was no time where I saw all the memories from my past and I just felt uneasy.” The old man paused, keeping the small tear in his eye and trying to finish his discussion so he wouldn’t lose the sale. “I guess I thought today was my day of bad luck and I wasn’t going to secure a sale. My boss was disappointed by my numbers and I needed a smart man with money to turn my day around.” The old man smiled. A genuine smile he hadn’t felt in years. The boss walked around the desk, handed the old man the briefcase and assured him that this was the turning point in his life. He was bound to be great someday, this was his day.
	The old man left the building with the money in tow, ready for his retirement to start. He smiled to himself, tapping the briefcase he worked so hard to achieve. Crossing the street, he realized that he never counted the money; he didn’t even take a look at it making sure it was there. His happiness turned sour as he looked around for somewhere he could count it. He saw a bar about a block away and casually hurried to the door. He rushed through the bar and ran straight for the bathroom. He closed the door and locked it, making sure that no one was in any of the stalls before opening the case and checking the contents. Someone started to walk in and then knocking was heard, signaling him to hurry up. He made sure at least $100,000 was there before he closed the case and unlocked the door. Some old drunk, even though it wasn’t even noon yet, rushed to the urinals as the old man cheerfully left the bathroom.

title: The Watch (short story I wrote for school)

question: What does the story say about the old man?

answer: The old man is a con man using the alias Harvey Calvin. He plans on scamming Mr. Holloway and his investors to hopefully bring him to retirement. On his way to the meeting, he comes across someone who knew him from before he became a con man. She recognizes him and calls him by his real name, William. She is disappointed with his plan and he apologizes. By the end of the meeting, they hand him $100,000 and he walks away happy.

question: What does the text say about the blonde woman in the elevator and the old man?

answer: The text does not describe her much, other than the fact that she knew who William was and what he does for a living.

question: What does the text say about con men?

question: What does the text say about business strategies?


text:
I'm not sure how active this sub is anymore, but I wanted to put this out there. I'm not a very frequent writer, but I felt I had to get this down, and get it out there. I do want to know what you think, so please be honest!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*There's a certain amount of irony here,* I thought, in a moment of self-consciously dramatic pause. As familiar as this street was, I kept expecting someone I knew to be in one of the passing cars. Maybe they'd lend a hand. Give me a lift. Maybe they would notice something was off, and they'd ask if anything was wrong. But no; first it had been a taxi, a garish blur of yellow through the stale smoke I blew in front of me. Next, a pizza delivery car. More than unfamiliar, they seemed foreign, and inauthentic, on my well trodden path to the library.

*Is that even ironic?* I still couldn't keep up with what irony was and wasn't. I was shaken out of my self-pity for just a moment when I realized I couldn't feel my fingers. I'd taken my gloves off to better double fist a coffee and a cigarette. Not the "I'm so sophisticated" kind of coffee and cigarette my British friends liked to very publicly have in front of the hip coffee shop while sporting designer sunglasses and a single earbud in, but the "I'm so fucked" kind of coffee and cigarette I liked to very privately have on my way to write a 25 page research paper I hadn't started yet for a class I haven't been to in a month. *And we're back,* I snidely remarked to myself, as my thoughts returned to self-pity. A college facilities truck rolled past, kicking up a frigid dust.

I took a drag. I took a sip. I wondered why I'd dug myself this stupid, stupid hole. I took a drag. I took a sip. I wondered how close I could get to 25 pages in 15 hours. I took a very long drag, and a very long sip.

*It's definitely something, if not ironic.* Am I thinking of symbolism? Does my lonely trip to campus represent something? Do those anonymous drivers hold some kind of deeper meaning? *Is that Ryan? Oh - no. Just a pickup.* I sighed deeply, and tapped my cigarette, knocking the ash off the end. I was being dramatic, and I knew it. *"What's the best way to get out of a field of shit?"* I heard him asking in my head. "Get up and start walking," I mumbled, the frozen air crystallizing my words as they left my lips. He'd always said that to me.

*It's that "get up" part that's the problem.* What are you supposed to do when you can't bring yourself to care that you're lying in shit? I mean, I know it's shit, but if I close my eyes and hold my breath, I can pretend it's not. Fuck me, I thought. When did I get so dramatic? I took a drag. *What am I, a girl?*

An image flashes in my head: I'm *dressed* as a girl, wearing some ridiculous flowery skirt I picked up from the Goodwill, and she's got on one of my shirts, with one of my baseball caps pulled over her bouncy curls. It was our first theme party: dress up as your date. We look goofy. I could see her so clearly; her cheeks rosy from the gin and tonics we thought we were fancy for drinking, her eyes shut tight and her face scrunched as she strikes a funny pose for a photo. I can feel her soft curves through the flannel of my shirt as I wrap my arm around her, and I can smell the perfume she wore. *Did she wear it for me?* I make eyes at her - for the photo of course - and the flash goes off. We smile, we laugh, and we go for another drink.

I looked up from my feet, and I looked back. *Shit.* I'd walked right past the library. I groaned, kicking myself, took a drag, and almost turned around, when I remembered where I was. I faced forward again; I choked on the smoke. *That bridge.* It had been three months since I'd laid eyes on that pond, that bridge.

That damned bridge.

I remembered the morning after the theme party, walking past that pond, that bridge, wondering if what they said about it was true. That if you took a girl across it, you'd be destined to be together forever. *Of course it's not true,* I'd thought, but I couldn't help but imagine taking her there. Brushing strands of blonde hair out of her face as I kissed her at the crest of that bridge.

That damned bridge.

I found myself sitting on a bench near the edge of the pond, and my mind was stuck on blonde hair again. Not hers, though. His.

*Fuck.* My chest tightened. I got up to leave, but I couldn't turn away. The clouds of my breath were more distinct here, near the water, floating out over the pond like ghosts. *Just look away. Please.* But I knew I wouldn't. I hadn't been able to three months prior. I wasn't able to in that moment either. *I have a fucking paper to write. I need to start this fucking paper.* My eyes were getting bleary, distorting the ghosts I couldn't tear my gaze from.

What would he say if he saw me right now? I wondered. I heard him in my head again. *"You're being a bitch, Dean. You're being a total fucking bitch right now."* He said it with a laugh. I knew he was right. He was always fucking right. I was being a bitch. But it was his fault. And I tried to tell him so.

"It's your fucking fault, John," I managed to whisper, weakly, with a shaky breath. I knew I was wrong. It was his fault he had killed himself, sure. But it wasn't his fault I was being a bitch. It just felt good to blame him. That selfish fuck.

I felt a buzz in my pocket. I pulled out my phone. "How's your paper coming?" she'd texted me.

"Great. Working hard. I'll text you in a bit."

"<3." *Yeah right.*

I pocketed my phone. She wouldn't come to get me, not like she'd done three months ago when I'd knelt for hours in the mud at the edge of the pond, staring at that bridge, crying, empty. If I told her where I was, she'd tell me to stop wallowing. She always said that. *Fucking wallowing. I hate that word.* That's why I'd stopped talking to her about it. That's why we'd been so distant recently. *This is your fault too, John,* I lied.

*Goddamn it, my paper.* The paper just felt so worthless. It all felt worthless. Parties felt worthless. Eating felt worthless. Showering felt worthless. Getting up and going to class felt worthless. Hell, getting up at all felt worthless. I didn't see the point. All I could see was John hanging from that bridge, gently swinging, back and forth.

That goddamned, fucking bridge.

I flicked my cigarette into the pond. I set the cold dregs of my coffee down on the bench next to me. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I sat there for a while, just breathing that bitingly cold air deep into my lungs.

"Beautiful, huh?"

A voice from behind the bench startled me. I opened my eyes, and turned around. Some short, brown-haired girl, wearing earmuffs and a black coat, both of which seemed comically large for her frame, stood hugging her arms around her torso.

"What?"

"That bridge. It's so pretty at night. When they light it up. Isn't it?" She glanced up, toward the bridge at my back. She glanced back at me; her eyes were a pure, icy blue in the light. Her smile turned up in one corner of her mouth, sort of half crooked.

"Oh. Uh, yeah." I glanced away. My brow furrowed.

"I'm... sorry to have bothered you. Have a good night." I'd been too gruff. She turned on her heels and left.

First I cursed her, but then I cursed myself. *You ass. She just wanted to talk. She didn't know.*

It was starting to snow gently. A delicate calm settled over the pond. I looked at the bridge again, watching shadows dance across it, and thought about how stupid I'd been to have hoped for a friend to appear on the road earlier. I wasn't even sure anyone would've stopped for me. I'd been so detached from the people I cared about. I felt so lonely, so desolate. I wondered, for a moment, if this was how John felt before he did it. *People don't just show up with free bundles of joy,* I thought. *No one just shows up with a smile -*

In an instant, I looked up, away from the pond, away from the bridge. She was still in eyesight. Something took over me; I shouted, "Hey! Hey, wait up!"
She stopped and turned around. She still had her arms wrapped around herself. She seemed confused.

"What?" she asked, terse. *You know, that crooked smile was kind of charming.*

"Just wait a second!"

Paper be damned. I got up, and started walking.

title: [MF] That Damned Bridge

question: What were the narrator and his girl dressed up for?

answer: The narrator was dressed as a girl for a theme party where they had to dress up as their date. He is wearing a flowery skirt that he picked up from Goodwill. His date had worn one of his shirts and a baseball cap.

question: What does the narrator hear about the bridge?

answer: At the theme party the previous night, the narrator is told that if you were to cross the bridge by the pond with a girl, you would be destined to be together forever. The narrator wonders if this is true but then brushes his thoughts away.

question: What thoughts run by the narrator's mind by the pond?

answer: At first, the narrator wonders if what he heard at the theme party about the bridge bringing couples together forever was indeed true. He eventually brushes his thought away telling himself that it definitely isn't true. He then remembers his paper but feels like everything is worthless as he thinks of John hanging from that very same bridge. He tries to calm himself down by just sitting there for a while, closing his eyes, and breathing.


text:
Hey everyone! I posted this to r/writing the other day, but I felt like this is a better sub for it. I didn't like the title, so I changed it before posting it here, and I also made a few minor changes. Anyways, I hope it is enjoyed! Thanks for reading! I love you all! If you have any feedback, please share.

----

"Woah! Woah! Woah! Here we go! Here we go!" We keep saying to each other. It is July Fourth, America's birthday, and Eagle and I are honoring her in our young, and hopeful-naive way.

We lay down under a tree. Staring off and up, and the entire world begins to feel like it is moving around me - like being at the center of a great merry-go-round. My eyes cannot hold in all the light. I am at the bottom of the entire world. This tree I am beneath, it blurs and dances with aliveness. It feel like forever, and finally I say to Eagle: Let's go walking. He agrees with a childly, benevolent grin.

We walk through the park and along the river. The way the river can move is not possible to tell of with words; but believe me, it is magic. The sun is a crazy yellow-gold ball of fire. It can be no more than a hundred yards away. The air is warm and soft, made of a hundred million pastel colors compounding together in a heavenly glory. "Look at that! Oh wow, would you look at that!" I say, and Eagle says "We know God because we are God!" And I think I agreed. We were crazy with real truth and conviction, but we had neither.

It was too much, the entire world - with all of it's madness and love and humor, trying to squeeze all together into my head. I just couldn't take it all in. I thought I was going to die. Eagle and I discussed responsibility as parently as we could, and it was decided that we absolutely must find a mission. We made ourselves into make believe soldiers, struggling out of the imaginary bush and to safety: anywhere but here.

With our heads full of color and exploding sound, we scramble across the park. We are continuing up the river and I see her. She is the girl I have been looking for my entire life. Beautiful almond hair, on fire, resting on olive shoulders. We make eye contact and time stops! We look right into each other. Her bright green eyes shine with beautiful tears. In that infinite moment it all happens, I love her, we plan to love each other forever, and then it all ends. It all moved in some Einsteinian way: impossibly fast; stretching on forever.

In this great America, on her esteemed birthday, it was somehow possible to sail through her glorious history, high on her greatest enemy. We were goners. The whole entire world was just a giant sandbox to Eagle and me.

Fireworks are going off overhead as we walk down an alley, directly from the canvas of a Normal Rockwell painting. The sun has just set and the sky has faded to a dark silvery blue in the East. The sky is lit up everywhere. Everything is chaos, absolute chaos. It is some how though, that I know I am safe. It is beautiful. It all has to happen: I sincerely feel this way. I tell this to Eagle, and feel like he understands, but he just nods in utter pensivity. We are almost there when Eagle turns to me, a glorious smile cracking across his face, and says,

"This is it. This is all of it! Isn't it glorious!?"

title: The Light Splashing Against Our Eyes

question: What does the narrator see in the park that evokes feelings of love in him?

answer: He sees a girl that he feels he has been looking for his entire life. Beautiful almond hair, resting on olive shoulders. They make eye contact and fall in love in that infinite moment. They make plans to love each other forever, and then the moment ends.


text:
Published on

Thursday, August 01, 2019

by

[President Donald Trump shakes hands with Senate Majority Leader Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) at the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C. (Photo: Alex Wong/Getty Images)]

The Republican-controlled Senate confirmed 13 of President Donald Trump's lifetime judicial nominees this week, a major victory in Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell's years-long effort to reshape the nation's courts and drag them further to the right for decades to come.

The breakneck speed with which McConnell has ushered young—and often unqualified—right-wing judges through the Senate confirmation process "should send shockwaves across the nation," the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights tweeted Wednesday.

"Republicans are counting on these judges to dismantle reproductive rights, marriage equality, and the separation of church and state, and also to shred the New Deal and regulations that protect people from corporate power."
—Marge Baker, People for the American Way

But the rapid confirmation of Trump's judicial picks this week has largely flown under the radar as America's cable networks and newspapers have been dominated by coverage of the 2020 Democratic presidential debates.

Kristine Lucius, executive vice president for policy and government affairs at the Leadership Conference, issued a statement singling out Texas district court nominees Jeffrey Brown and Brantley Starr, who she said are "hostile to voting rights, LGBTQ equality, reproductive rights, and immigrant rights."

"Additionally, neither one would even state that the bedrock civil rights decision _Brown v. Board of Education_ was correctly decided," said Lucius, referring to the 1954 Supreme Court decision that ruled racial segregation of public schools unconstitutional.

Brown and Starr were just two of seven Trump judicial picks confirmed by the Senate on Wednesday.

"Senate Republicans will stop at nothing to stack the courts with partisan judges who will push their radical agenda through at any cost," Lucius said. "In doing so, they are not only degrading our courts, but also endangering our democracy."

It is unclear whether McConnell will succeed in pushing through all 19 of the judges he set out to confirm before the Senate breaks for recess at the end of the week, but progressives said the Kentucky Republican nevertheless did a lot of damage in just a few days—without much resistance from the Democratic Party.

  Yesterday, the Senate confirmed one of these lifetime judicial picks who wouldn't say #BrownvBoard was correctly decided 87-1. (Thanks @SenBlumenthal!)

  Today, Democrats let another be confirmed by voice vote--not even bothering to insist on a roll-call vote.

  SCROLL TO CONTINUE WITH CONTENT

  Never Miss a Beat.

  GET OUR BEST DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX.

  Where is the floor? https://t.co/xmC5ICzZ7k

  — Christopher Kang (@cdkang76) July 31, 2019

Marge Baker, executive vice president of progressive advocacy group People for the American Way, said in a statement Thursday that the "judges confirmed by the Senate this week include a number of alarming, narrow-minded elitists—including but not limited to nine nominees who would not say that they agreed with the Supreme Court's ruling in _Brown v. Board of Education_."

"Republicans are counting on these judges to dismantle reproductive rights, marriage equality, and the separation of church and state," said Baker, "and also to shred the New Deal and regulations that protect people from corporate power."

McConnell and Trump's ongoing transformation of the nation's judiciary received very little attention during the two Democratic presidential debates this week.

In an interview on _MSNBC_ Thursday, Washington Gov. Jay Inslee, who was on the debate stage in Detroit Wednesday night, accused Senate Democrats of not doing everything in their power to stop Trump's judicial picks because they want to leave town for August recess.

"They've approved his judge selections so they can go on recess," said Inslee.

"These are lifetime appointments," Inslee added. "Stopping Mitch McConnell and Donald Trump from putting these conservative judges on the bench is more important than their vacation, frankly."

  Gov. Inslee hits Senate Dems for supporting Trump judges: "We have to stop giving him a pass. They've approved his judge selections so they can go on recess. These are lifetime appointments ... It's more important than their vacation, frankly." pic.twitter.com/I0mloQB3sz

  — Demand Justice (@WeDemandJustice) August 1, 2019

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question: Summarize the main news event.

answer: The Republican-controlled Senate confirmed 13 of President Donald Trump's lifetime judicial nominees this week. The confirmations were done at breakneck speed in the last weeks before the Senate breaks following a voice vote with little opposition from Democrats. In mainstream media the news has been overshadowed by the 2020 Democratic presidential debates. Two of the candidates that have been confirmed would not say they agreed with the bedrock civil rights decision Brown v. Board of Education. The Republicans hope that the new judges will help to dismantle reproductive rights, marriage equality and shred the New Deal.

question: Summarize the historical context around Brown v. Board of Education.

question: Summarize the views of the opposing sides.

answer: With their control of the Senate, the Republicans hope to reshape the nation's court and drag them further toward the right for decades to come. The Democrats did not give major opposition to the confirmations. This irks progressive right groups like the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights and People of the American Way. They feel that the new judges are hostile to progressive agendas, narrow-minded and elitist and both have an issue with two of the confirmations not confirming the bedrock civil rights decision in Brown v. Board of Education. The Washington Governor even feels that they were confirmed so the Democrats could go on vacation and for no other reason.

question: Summarize the role of Kristine Lucius in the news.

answer: Lucius is the executive vice president for policy and government affairs at the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights. She singled Texas district nominees Jeffrey Brown and Brantley Starr out in a statement regarding their hostility toward voting rights, reproductive rights, and immigrant rights. Lucius also spoke about the fact neither of those two judges would state that the bedrock civil rights decision in Brown v. Board of Education was correct. Lucius holds that the Republican Senate is stacking to court with partisan judges who will push their agenda through at any cost. This will degrade the American courts and endanger their democracy.


text:
The trial of an inventor accused of torturing and killing a Swedish journalist on his private submarine is now underway in Copenhagen, Denmark.

Peter Madsen, a Danish inventor charged with murder and indecent handling of a corpse, has denied killing Kim Wall. He is accused of torturing 30-year-old Wall before either cutting her throat or strangling her.

Wall, a freelance journalist who wrote for The New York Times, The Guardian and other publications, embarked on Madsen's submarine on Aug. 10 to interview the 47-year-old co-founder of a company that develops and builds manned spacecraft. Her remains were found in plastic bags on the Baltic Sea bed weeks later, and her torso was found stabbed multiple times.

Prosecutor Jakob Buch-Jepsen said in court that after Wall boarded the submarine, she texted and sent pictures to her Danish boyfriend. The last messages were sent after 8 p.m. local time and included:

"I'm still alive btw."

"But I'm going down now!"

"I love you!!!!!"

"He brought coffee and cookies tho"

Later that evening, Wall's boyfriend was unable to reach her, looked for her and then reported her missing, the prosecutor said.

Madsen, 47, is also charged with "sexual relations other than intercourse of a particularly dangerous nature" after her remains were discovered to have stab wounds in and around her genitals. He appeared irritated as he denied any suggestion of sexual activity with Wall.

Buch-Jepsen read from a psychiatric report describing Madsen as an intelligent man "with psychopathic tendencies." Madsen himself told the court Thursday that he was "a promiscuous person."

Pictures of Wall's body are so graphic, most of them will only be shown to those judging the case, the prosecutor said. Only a picture of her wrist was shown in court to show marks, which the prosecutor said matched straps that were found in the submarine.

Investigators never found Madsen's phone, but they were able to recreate its contents, the prosecutor said. Hours before boarding the submarine with Wall, Madsen had searched for the words "beheading," "girl" and "agony."

A video of a woman having her throat slit had been played on his phone. Videos showing women being tortured and executed also were found on his computer.

Madsen had offered shifting explanations for Wall's death prior to the trial. He initially told authorities he had dropped Wall off on a Copenhagen island several hours into their submarine trip. Then he said that Wall died accidentally inside the submarine when a hatch fell and hit her on the head. On Thursday, he described how he found Wall lifeless after a sudden pressure problem in the submarine.

"I could not open the hatches. I heard Kim, it was not good," he said. He added that he tried to give her first aid when he finally reached her, but stopped because it was impossible to stay inside. "There was a risk of having a submarine with two deaths," he told the court.

Madsen says he dismembered Wall's body so that he could bury her at sea because he couldn't lift her up the submarine tower.

The prosecution claims Wall's murder was premeditated because Madsen brought along tools he normally didn't take when sailing.

A verdict is expected April 25. If found guilty, Madsen faces between five years and life in prison - which in this case means 16 years that could be extended as long as Madsen is deemed dangerous - or he could be locked up in a secure mental facility if deemed necessary by psychiatrists, for as long as he's considered sick and a danger to others.

_The Associated Press and ABC News contributed to this report._

Copyright © 2020 KABC-TV. All Rights Reserved.

question: What does the article say about Madsen's character?

answer: He is an intelligent man with psychopathic tendencies and a promiscuous person. He is a killer and a liar. He is mentally ill and is locked up as he is considered a danger to others. He is a sadist.

question: What does the article say about Kim Wall?

answer: Kim Wall was a 30-year-old Swedish freelance journalist that was killed by Peter Madsen, a mentally ill Danish inventor. She wrote for The New York Times, The Guardian, and other publications.

question: What does the article say about Kim's family?