text:
The 2017 EAST TENNESSEE STATE BUCCANEERS FOOTBALL TEAM represented East Tennessee State University (ETSU) in the 2017 NCAA Division I FCS football season and are in the second year of their second stint as football members of the Southern Conference (SoCon). They are led by third-year head coach Carl Torbush and, for the first time, play all their home games at William B. Greene Jr. Stadium.[1] They finished the season 4–7, 2–6 in SoCon play to finish in eighth place.

On December 8, head coach Carl Torbush announced his retirement.[2] He finished at ETSU with a three-year record of 11–22.

Schedule

-   Source: 1

Game summaries

Limestone

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at James Madison

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The Citadel

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Mercer

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at Furman

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Robert Morris

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Western Carolina

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Wofford

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VMI

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at Samford

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at Chattanooga

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[1]

[2] http://www.etsubucs.com/football/news/2017-18/14576/torbush-announces-retirement-as-etsu-head-football-coach/

title: 2017 East Tennessee State Buccaneers football team

question: Who represented East Tennessee State University in the 2017 NCAA Division I FCS football season?

answer: The 2017 East Tennessee State Buccaneers Football Team.

question: Who is the coach of the team?

answer: Carl Torbush.

question: Where do they play their home games?

answer: William B. Greene Jr. Stadium.

question: How many games do they play in a season?

answer: 11.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The article is about a football team at the East Tennessee State University.


split: train

text:
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question: What are their Covid-19 policies?

answer: Not specified, though they indicate they are trying to keep tings as safe as possible.

question: What do people say about them?

answer: They link to the Facebook page where they claim we can read unbiased reviews.

question: How does one become a Rugbytots coach?

answer: It appears as though the main qualifications are to be good with children and love rugby.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: A series of links to pages on the Rugbytots welcome page.


text:
        I'm writing this 20 minutes after having my first MRI brain scan. This experience was something that I felt was noteworthy. To myself at least. I wonder if anyone else had the same experience while getting an MRI scan. I wondered if anyone had ever experienced what I was experiencing.

        Right before I walked  into the scanning room, I reached at my neck for the necklace that I've worn everyday for the past 8 years, only to find that it wasn't there. Gold isn't what most people think of when someone says "metal", but it is in fact a metallic element, so it had to be removed.
        My glasses were removed as soon as I got situated on the table. Everything after that was a literal "blur". Earlier conversation with my physician led me to expect music. Either through headphones or earphones. Regular music. The headphones didn't fit because of the situation with the head brace and padding, so "ear plugs" were snugly put in. That's what the physician called them, but many people call "earphones" "ear plugs" so I was still expecting music.  It wasn't until the end of the scan that I would realize this wasn't regular music...
        I made it a point to stay really still. My head was put in an awkward position, and my body was slightly shifted to the right. The physician gave me an emergency ball to squeeze in case of, well, an emergency. I folded my right arm over my stomach and held it in that hand. Firmly. In my mind, the ball was only to be used by wimps, or someone who was incidentally having their brains fried and melted. After what felt like a couple if minutes, I considered maybe I fit into one of those categories.
        Left lying, waiting for the music to start, I contemplated the possibility that the music may be too loud for my ears. My ears are pretty sensitive, and anything above three notches would probably startle me. I felt myself tensing up, annoyed by the fact that she didn't even question my personal tolerance level.
        Without warning, I was slowly pushed into the narrow tube. Though I was dreading the onset of loud, unbearable music, I forced myself to promise I wouldn't use the alert ball for something so stupid. For pride's sake, I guess.
        A few seconds went by. Silence. Then a few more. The machine started to produce a low rumbling sound. It couldn't have been music because the noise was awful and the total opposite of soothing. I almost completely ruled out the possibility of listening to music. Then I started to consider that maybe this rumbling sound WAS the music.
        More time went by. The sound switched pitches and patterns. The machine shook at the commencement of each new set. There was even a time where the sounds mimicked outer space "beeps" and "boops", and people with wood clappers playing "Simon Says". I thought maybe these weren't machine sounds. Maybe I was just being unappreciative of the music that was given to me. My body was still and my eyes opened and closed as they pleased. Bored, I began to focus on what I was feeling... Terrible idea.
        The scanning seemed to come in stages. In each stage my body felt a new feeling. When the first stage began, my body just felt stiff. I knew the more I moved, the longer it would take. I focused on my hearing and touch. The radio waves were felt buzzing in the base of my neck and head. Heat was felt too. Placebo effect, probably. I know. But at the time, my mind was telling me that my brain was being fried by the wicked machine. The low rumble continued, loud and steady for minutes. I just knew this wasn't normal. Then again, I also know that I occasionally over-think things, and make myself paranoid with thoughts of unfortunate scenarios, like the ones in "1,000  Ways To Die".
        I thought about the emergency ball in my right hand. It wasn't there. My hand wasn't there. And neither was my arm. I knew it was all there, I just couldn't FEEL them.  That's definitely a placebo effect too. But then the humming switched up. The sound broke into 2-second parts with 1-second spaces in between. In the spaces, silence. And in the humming, words. Unmistakable speech, blanketed with code.
        The second stage was even more interesting. The sounds came from different directions in different tones. I could feel which part of my head was being scanned. At one point, a pulsating, mid-toned buzz resonated from above. My eyes closed, and I could SEE the waves. I could FEEL the waves drawing me in. I got flash backs of things that have never happened to me before. Grim, vivid images and visions. There were beeping sounds, then clanking sounds, then humming sounds again. My body felt weightless. My head was heavy. Parts of my body twitched. I was being probed and possessed, undoubtedly.
        Finally, peace. The last stage happened so quickly. I only remember being calm; mind and body still. I could only feel my heartbeat. The blood pumped through my chest out to the arms and legs. My brain shook with the frequencies of the waves, and sent me to sleep. Destination not reached.
        Everything stopped. Not like it does in between buzzing or in between tones and rhythms. It just, well, stopped. A voice greeted me and told me I was done. With my head still facing fixed straight, and my glasses off, I tried to look down. And what I saw wasn't what I expected...
        Black robe? Black hair? This isn't the physician who greeted me, and talked with me, and got me situated in the machine. This was someone else. I was sat up and was told that I might be a little dizzy. I said I wasn't. I didn't think I was. But I probably was. The emergency ball was taken out of my hand. Only then did I realize the subtle death-grip that I had on it. I put my glasses on and took the ear PLUGS out. It WASN'T music. They WERE in fact ear plugs.
        My senses are clear now. (Except for my sense of direction). Now I was positive this wasn't the person who brought me in. I was guided out of the scanning room feeling lost. The original physician was sitting behind the control center. The physician who mislead me into thinking music would be played for me. The physician who started all of the confusion that happened while I was in the tube. The physician who indirectly convinced me that I was being ungrateful for the odd futuristic "music" that was being played for me. In my hand, the ear plugs; her sly accomplice. Walking out, I still felt the buzzing. And I still heard the hum. And even though I know I was mislead, something in my mind, in the back of my head, still tells me that I was probed...

title: Probed

question: What does the story say about aliens?

question: Summarize the narrator's experiences in the MRI machine.

answer: She's led to believe there will be music, but there isn't any. She takes off all metal on her and holds on to the emergency ball given to her. She resolves into thinking she won't use it. When the machine starts, the weird noises initially feel like strange music until she realizes it's not. As the machine goes through its phases, the narrator starts feeling strange vibrations in her body and feels like her brain is frying. She realizes these are only in her head. In the second phase, she can feel the parts of her being scanned, seeing visions and flashbacks of events that never happened. By the time the third phase rolls in, she's sure she was probed. That feeling doesn't go away after getting out of the machine.


text:
[traffic camera]
trekandshoot / Dreamstime
Chicago's use of red light cameras to shake every possible cent out of its citizens took a hit this week. The city has agreed to a $38.75 million settlement to end a class action suit by people who say they hadn't been given adequate notice of violations to respond to them.

The _Chicago Tribune_ reports that as many as 1.2 million people may get refunded half of what they paid to the city.

The plaintiffs contend that the city didn't send second notices to people who had gotten red light tickets before declaring them guilty, as the regulations required. The suit also says the city was doubling the fines for late payments before it was supposed to.

The city's response to the complaint was pretty telling: It changed the ordinance so that the city didn't have to send a second notice at all. Then, to cover their asses, Chicago lawmakers passed an ordinance giving those who had gotten tickets prior to 2015 permission to challenge them. The city took in nearly $300 million from traffic camera citations in 2015; they didn't want to give up that money without a fight.

This suit was rather limited, considering the many, many problems Chicago has had with its red light and speed camera systems. The _Tribune_ has been on top of these problems:

  Zolna's suit was among half a dozen cases that followed a Chicago Tribune investigation of corruption and mismanagement within the city's $600 million red light program. The series exposed a $2 million City Hall bribery scheme that brought the traffic cameras to Chicago as well as tens of thousands of tickets that were unfairly issued to drivers.

  The investigation found malfunctioning cameras, inconsistent enforcement and millions of dollars in tickets issued purposely by City Hall even after transportation officials knew that yellow light times were dropping below the federal minimum guidelines.

  Throughout the scandal, the Emanuel administration has been reluctant to issue refunds, in some cases forcing drivers to file paperwork and apply for a rehearing process some critics have called onerous.

A former city official has even gone to prison for bribery over the implementation of the system. $10 million of the money that will pay for the settlement will come from the cash the city itself will get from the private red light camera company Redflex, in a completely different settlement over the bribery scandal.

The _Tribune_ previously researched what the cameras actually accomplished for drivers. The safety results turned out to be terrible. The city actually saw a 22 percent increase in rear-end crashes, and many of the cameras had been implemented in intersections with no notable history of problems with collisions.

Chicago's implementation of red light cameras makes it abundantly clear—if it's not already—that the purpose of these programs is not public safety but raising money for the city by sucking it out of the pockets of its citizens.

Or at least the citizens it has left. The Chicago area has been bleeding population for the past two years, losing more residents than any other major city in the country.

question: Why is Chicago being sued for the red-light tickets?

answer: The issuance of those tickets violated multiple regulation rules.

question: What is Zolna's suit?

answer: Zolna's suit was among half a dozen cases that followed a Chicago Tribune investigation of corruption and mismanagement within the city's $600 million red light program.

question: What did the investigation find?

answer: The safety results turned out to be terrible. The city actually saw a 22 percent increase in rear-end crashes, and many of the cameras had been implemented in intersections with no notable history of problems with collisions.

question: Who was the former city official that had gone to prison for bribery?

answer: Information can't be found.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: At the time of the article, Chicago was being sued for its red-light camera ticket issuance. Tickets were being issued despite it not following protocol and regulations, and then to solve the problem, Chicago passed an ordinance allowing them to break those regulations. The writer makes it clear that Chicago's purpose behind the implementation of red light cameras is to raise money for the city.


text:
  He woke up in a cold and sterile room. Sickly green curtains hung limp over the window, adorned with lilacs and daisies. The room was strangely devoid of personality. There were no clothes to be seen, everything was neat and orderly, and there was no dog-eared journal, yellow and faded with age.
  "Where is my notebook?" he thought, angrily. He propped himself up in the bed and searched closer.
  Nothing.
  He did, however, notice the framed portrait of an old couple on the bedstand.
  "Oh."
  He realized where he was, and shakily stood up to get a coffee.
  As he hobbled down the halls of the nursing home, he looked around at the others in the entertainment rooms. They sat about, some talking, others watching TV, others still merely sitting and watching their lives fade away. The only thing they had in common were their eyes. Each one shared the same look, the same gaze, one of hopelessness and disgust and confusion.
  "Good morning Edward!" someone called out.
  He paused, unsure how to react, or to whom. "Good morning to you too!" he eventually responded, to no one in particular.
  His name was Francis.

  When Francis finally reached the kitchen, he paused again.
  Why had he come here?
  He began to rummage through the various drawers and cabinets.
  "What are you looking for, Francis?"
  The voice frightened him. He looked around, starled. One of the nurses stood in the kitchen, watching him quietly.
  "Oh, just whatever I find." he said, suddenly cheery.
  She smiled a sad sort of smile and left him to his own devices.
  The coffee machine gurgled on the counter. "Ah, that's right. Coffee." Francis thought. He pulled a stained blue glass out of the cupboard, and set it brusquely on the table. He shakily grabbed the pot and poured the coffee into the glass, spilling enough to dribble down the sides and onto the wood below. He set the pot back on the machine, and picked up the steaming glass.
  He cried out in pain as the hot glass burned his hand, and he dropped the glass onto the floor.
  "I'll get that" said the nurse as she swept up the glass and called for a mop.
  Francis stood, rooted to the ground, looking very scared, and confused. He didn't understand.
  The nurse returned with an insulated styrofoam cup, and filled it with coffee for him.
  "Oh, thank you Agnes." said Francis, with a warm and overlarge smile, as he shuffled out of the room clutching the cup.
  Her name was Alice. &#32;

  Francis sat on the cold, hard couch and stared at the cup of coffee. A television played Fox News very loudly in the background, and, at another table, a man sat playing chess with himself.
  "Francis, your grandson is here to see you!"
  He looked up, to see a different nurse guiding a man to the couch where he sat. Francis smiled.
  "Hello Robert!" He said cheerily.
  "Hi Grandpa" answered Robert, somewhat meekly.
  "Would you like a coffee?" Francis asked. "The nurse poured me one, but I didn't really want it."
  "Sure, Grandpa." Robert said, as he grimaced and took a sip. "Thank you."
  Francis was very pleased. He smiled at Robert for a moment, then asked eagerly "So how is school going? You must be in the 11th grade by now, isn't that right?"
  Robert paused, unsure how to answer. "I'm in the 14th grade, Grandpa."
  "Oh." Francis said. "Well, I always liked the 11th grade. That was the year I met your mother!"
  Robert looked rather uncomfortable. "You mean Grandma?"
  "Ah yes." Said Francis, ignoring him. "Say, be sure to let your mother and I know if you ever need help paying for college."
  There was a long pause, and Robert teared up. "Grandpa, Grandma has been dead for 9 months."
  "No, she hasn't!" Francis said, airily. "She's right here with us! Agnes! Come over here Agnes, Robert has come to visit."
  The background chatter hushed, and head began to swivel towards the pair.
  "Agnes? Come on honey, don't you want to visit?" A note of concern began to enter his voice. Robert was crying.
  "Where have you gone? Get over here you old bat!" Francis stood up, and began to search for his dead wife. He stumbled down the hall, screaming her name, confused and angry, at this, at himself, at everything.
  Robert still sat on the couch, holding the cold cup of coffee, tears running down his face. Next to him, the spot where his grandfather had once sat was still warm.
  He was once a brilliant man, an engineer. He lived his live with vigorous pride and determination. He worked hard, retired early, and gained the respect of almost everyone he met. He was happy, and others were happy for him. His life was charmed, it seemed.
  But now, he hobbled through the halls of the nursing home, yelling at the empty frames on the wall and the empty people that lived there. He screamed and searched for his wife who would never be found. He could no longer understand.
  His name was Francis.

title: His name was Francis [Any and all feedback appreciated]

question: Where does the main character wake up?

answer: A nursing home.

question: What's his name?

answer: Francis.

question: What's the nurse's name?

answer: Alice.

question: What was Robert's profession before he retired?

answer: He was an engineer.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Francis is an elderly man suffering from something that seems like dementia or Alzheimer's. He wakes in his nursing home and it takes him a moment to remember where he is. He calls the nurse by the wrong name. When his grandson, Robert, comes to see him, he forgets that his wife-Robert's grandmother-is dead. When Robert informs Francis that she had died nine months ago, Francis gets mad, and insists he just saw her with the nurse, whose name he still misplaces.


text:
* Soulshock
* Kenneth Karlin
"Tell Me How You Feel" is a song by American singer and actress Joy Enriquez. It samples "Mellow Mellow Right On" by Lowrell Simon. The song was released as the second single from her debut self-titled studio album in December 2000, peaking at number 17 on the US Billboard Bubbling Under R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart, number 24 in Australia and number 14 in New Zealand, where it was certified Gold for sales of over 5,000.
 Track listing
Australia / New Zealand
# "Tell Me How You Feel" – 4:09
# "Tell Me How You Feel" (Full Crew Mix) – 4:07
# "Between You and Me" – 4:22
# "How Can I Not Love You" – 4:34
Europe
# "Tell Me How You Feel" (Album version) – 4:09
# "Tell Me How You Feel" (Full Crew Mix) – 4:07
# "Tell Me How You Feel" (Spanish Version-Dime Mi Amor) – 3:59
# "Tell Me How You Feel" (Instrumental) – 4:05
 Charts
 Certifications

title: Tell Me How You Feel

question: How was the single "Tell Me How You Feel" received in the US?

answer: It managed to be the top 17th song in its genre.

question: Did the single's reception in the US reflect other places?

answer: It was at least echoed by Australia and New Zealand.

question: How many versions of "Tell Me How You Feel" exists?

answer: 5 versions between European and Australia / New Zealand releases.

question: How many different songs does the single "Tell Me How You Feel" contain?

answer: Its Europe release only has variations of the title song while the Australia / New Zealand version contains two more distinct songs.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: "Tell Me How You Feel" is a song by American singer and actress Joy Enriquez, sampling "Mellow Mellow Right On" by Lowrell Simon. The song is the second single from the singer's debut album. It entered the top-20 charts in the US and New Zealand while achieving 24th position in Australia.


text:
     Her daughter entered the room and stood in front of her, cross legged, teeth gritting.  The girl was searching for a break to politely interject, but mother had the stage, and there was no indication that she would be passing the conch anytime soon.

     The girl waits.  Finally, through furrowed brow, tightened fists and pursed lips she whisper "mommy, I really have to go potty."

     Mother stops.  She tilts her head to the side, and looks down at the girl.  "Honey, that is rude. Say you have to use the "restroom."  Now go on ahead."

     The girl prances away.  The spotlight returns to mother.

     "Now where was I…that's right.  I was ten centimeters dilated, and then Gunner started crowning as soon as my legs were in the stirrups…"

The Gymnastics Waiting Room No. 5. My Own Public Miracle.

     A college professor of mine once told me that a non-smoker never offended anyone.  I think back to that advice whenever I'm in a new social situation.  Everyone knows the unwritten rules - you don't talk about politics or religion.  In the sense of good test, there are also other less divisive topics that should be shied away from.  You want to talk about that horror movie you just saw with the killer that uses an icepick attached to a weedwacker?  Wait until after dessert.  Aunt Mary's laser hair removal procedure?  Not at the church Christmas pageant.  What about the labor and birthing process of all three of your children?   Apparently acceptable in any situation.

     I'm not sure when it happened, but somehow speaking about the human birthing process is exempt from our unwritten book of couth.  The "miracle of life" has become a tale that every mother feels is necessary to share with their friends, enemies and innocent bystanders.  Don't believe it?  Try this little test sometime.  Ask a co-worker the following three questions, and you'll bound to get answers similar to the ones below.

Q: "Hey Jill, did you vote for Obama?"
A: "Uh, that's kind of private."

Q: "Hey Jill, what do you think about the whole abortion issue?"
A: "Yeah, let's stay away from that.  More potato salad?"

Q: "Hey Jill, how long were in you in labor with Tommy?"
A: "Well, after my water broke, Ted and I went right down to the hospital and got in the delivery room.   I swear they put those forceps on ice before they use them on you.  Anyhoo…"

When my wife was visibly pregnant, she would get the typical questions of how many months, when she was due, and if we knew the gender of the baby.  "These people are so nice, kind and concerned!" we thought.  Sadly, we fell for the bait and switch.  Most mothers took a sharp turn from general pleasantries to a tell-all of the birth of their own child, available as a full on Director's Cut, Criterion Collection Three-Disc Bonus Digital Copy Behind the Sheet with Best Friend and Mother in Law Commentary.  Complete, uncensored and unabridged. Now On Demand.

Labor and birthing stories were shared with us everywhere.  Grocery stores, banks, swimming pools, doctors offices, schools, meetings, festivals, and even restaurants during the meal were all fair game.  Today, the tainted space is my childrens' gymnastics waiting room.  Gunner's mother is delivering her monologue to a captive audience of five mothers, eight children, two fathers, and the receptionist.  Not one person is batting an eye at the mention of the screaming, the pushing, and the fluids.  Walk into this monologue two minutes late and you're in the middle of a rough script reading for "Alien IV: Expulsion."

I don't know why speaking about childbirth in public has become as acceptable as talking about the weather.  I do know, however, that the best coping mechanism is ignorance.  Because ignorance allows us peace.  Dolly Parton once stated that her husband had never seen her without makeup, and that he was perfectly fine with that.  Disney characters are prohibited from taking their costumes off in the park in an effort to "maintain the magic."  And if my repressed memory serves me correctly, my own children simply appeared on this Earth.  There were no labor pains, contractions, or forceps - just a perfectly clean baby, with a round, formed head, already wearing a perfectly fastened cloth diaper.  That Vlasic Pickle stork sure knows how to deliver.

The details keep getting better.  Take this actual transcription from today:

"My water broke right at the farmer's market!"
"Oh, mine just let loose at Wal-Mart!"
"Well mine happened right in the middle of Olive Garden!"

Thanks. I think I'll grow my own produce from now on.

This one's the best:  "My husband and I tried for two years before we got pregnant with Gunner."  Stage left to the man sitting right next to her.   He doesn't even look up from the crossword he's been staring at for the past half hour.  I watch him write "MISERY" in a four letter box.

Maybe this talk of childbirth gets a free pass because it's natural. Or because some consider it a miracle.  But it's no miracle - we know the science behind it.  A true miracle cannot be explained.  For example, somehow my son managed to switch a talking Elmo doll to Spanish that doesn't even feature a bilingual option.  If that doll is reading this, por favor no me maten en mi sueño, demonio Elmo.

In an effort to help reduce the verbal outbreak, I present a brief list of situations where a complete description of childbirth is acceptable:

1.  Speaking to a doctor in the confines of a steel, windowless room only accessible using key codes from two separate briefcases.

2. During a special "Pep Assembly" in front of an entire high school population on day before prom.  The band then closes with a rousing minor key arrangement of "In The Mood."

Class has ended, and my daughter enters the waiting room while mother concludes her monologue.  I scoop up my children and we make our way out, taking care to dodge the verbal tosses of epiderals, umbilical cords and vernix.  We are stopped at the door by a small child, no more than two.  I glance back - mother is looking at the boy with adoration, so proud of her personal romance trophy.  This is Gunner.  In twenty minutes, I have learned every detail of his life up to this point, including his less than immaculate 24 month conception.  I take a moment to pity the child; his life will forever be an open book narrated by his mother.  "Run," I whisper before sidestepping and exiting.

We stop at a fast food restaurant on the way home.   My family is now safe from the waiting room birther.  No longer will my children and I suffer from the disgusting tales of before, during and afterbirth.

We get our food and sit down.  Behind us, two senior citizens are at a table enjoying their coffee, speaking loudly.  "So what else is new, Bob?"  "Well, I finally passed that stone…"

title: My own public miracle.

question: Who is the lady speaking to?

answer: To a bunch of other women about childbirth.

question: Is the narrator against speaking about childbirth in public?

answer: YEs, she is.

question: Where is the story set?

answer: The story is set in a Gymnastics waiting room no.5

question: Why is the narrator disgusted by childbirth?

answer: She believes it is an inappropriate or disgusting topic to speak about in public.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator describes the topics acceptable to speak on in a social situation. She wonders how childbirth is one of them. While she is in her gymnastics waiting room a bunch of women are speaking about how their deliveries began.

The narrator believes that the topic is acceptable in public since it is natural. The class ends and the narrator leaves along with her daughter to a fast food joint. Just when she thinks that they are saved from hearing stories of childbirth, two senior citizens behind them discuss a stone.


text:
[]

This petition had 391 supporters

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Currently its almost impossible to play due to the 200+ ms ping to the European servers.

While its possible to play ranged heroes, its virtually impossible to play a melee hero to its full potential. There could be a huge Smite scene in South Africa if servers are provided, as well as local leagues hosted across the country.

Thanks

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

Today: Tyron is counting on you

Tyron Bataille needs your help with “HI-REZ STUDIOS: PROVIDE SOUTH AFRICAN SERVERS”. Join Tyron and 390 supporters today.

question: What is this post?

answer: It is a petition?

question: What request does the petition make?

answer: To provide South African servers for the gam Smite

question: How many supporters does the petition have already?

answer: 391 supporters

question: Who organized this petition?

answer: Tyron Bataille

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: A petition organized by Tyron Bataille requests support for South African servers for the game Smite. They hope to host local leagues across the country. The petition currently has 391 supporters.


text:
[GettyImages-612067284.jpg]
_Vin Scully in the booth with Giants Hall of Famer Willie Mays and Giants CEO Larry Baer during his final game. (Photo by Jason O. Watson/Getty Images)_

On Sunday afternoon, during the season finale against the rival Giants in San Francisco, Vin Scully signed off for the last time in a storied 67-year career. "I have said enough for a lifetime, and for the last time, I wish you a good afternoon," he said, as men across the country tried to hide the fact they were weeping over his departure.

After nearly seven decades in the booth, Scully will now be able to fulfill a fantasy many dream about every day at their desks: saying goodbye to their employer forever. Vin Scully will no longer be there for the Dodgers on game day—does this also mean he will root for the Giants again?

This may sound blasphemous, but even Scully admits his love of baseball started with the Giants. As he has said many times through the years, including during yesterday's game, he remembers being a young boy walking past a Chinese laundry in Bronx and seeing a box score posted on their window: New York Yankees 18, New York Giants 4. "As a little kid, my first thought was, 'Oh, those poor Giants,'" he told the L.A. Times.

That game, by the way, was on October 2, 1936. Eighty years later to the day, Scully would call his final game. (It was also Game 2 of the World Series, and the Yankees would win the series.)

(via @ChadMoriyama)

Scully's childhood idol was the one and only Mel Ott, the Hall of Fame right fielder for the New York Giants. As a parting gift, the Giants presented Scully with a framed photograph of Ott and a ticket stub to the game where he hit his 500th home run. "He would raise that right leg and hit over 500 home runs," Scully said yesterday, describing Ott's batting stance. "I tried to do it and something happened when I swung the bat, that did not do what Mel Ott did."

Scully was also presented with a plaque that now hangs in the visitor's broadcast booth, commemorating the over 9,000 games that he announced in his career. Emceeing the ceremony was Giants CEO Larry Baer and Giants legend Willie Mays, who Scully described as, "My favorite player, and the best one."

  Forever enshrined in the visiting TV broadcast booth. #ThankYouVin pic.twitter.com/vaXZkeuLfJ

  — SFGiants (@SFGiants) October 2, 2016

But the most damning piece of evidence that Scully might switch back to his childhood fandom? Let Scully's words explain: "I can root for them now when they go to New York to play the Mets! _Darn right!_" (The Giants play the Mets on Wednesday night in the National League Wild Card Game.)

Darn right! You can parse those words however you want—he "can" root for now as opposed to "will"—but the emphatic "Darn right" speaks volumes.

Whichever loyalty Scully now holds, we wish him a happy retirement.

UPDATE [4:20]: LAist reached out to the Dodgers to see if they or the Vin Scully himself had any comment on Scully's retirement loyalties, and spokesman Steve Brener said, "Vin said he would root for the Dodgers and also pull for the Giants against the Mets this week."

  Scully & Scully.

  A photo posted by Los Angeles Dodgers (@dodgers) on Oct 2, 2016 at 5:58pm PDT

question: How many games, on average, did Vin Scully announce per year during his career?

answer: 1,343.

question: How many did he announce per day on average?

answer: 3.8


text:
[Football Manager Guides - Football Manager Current and Potential Ability Explained]

CURRENT AND POTENTIAL ABILITY (commonly known as _CA_ and _PA_) apply to both players and backroom staff members. It's _an indication_ of how skilled that person is and how much you can expect him to develop further, depending on his age (and some other attributes like ambition and professionalism).

In this article we'll focus on players because when we talk about abilities in Football Manager everyone thinks of players more than anything else.

Current and potential ABILITY CAN BE 0 TO 200, where 200 is the absolute best (e.g. Messi). Most players have fixed / set ability values, but there are players whose ability (potential ability mostly) will fluctuate in every new save-game you start. _Negative ability means that the player will get a random ability value in every new save_, but within a specific range which depends on the negative number.

Negative values are usually found in potential abilitiy and they are _common for younger players up to the age of 22_. In some cases we can find negative value in current ability as well.

WHY DO NEGATIVE ABILITIES EXIST?

Well, it's a good solution when researchers / volunteer scouts don't want to set a fixed ability for players who haven't really convinced them of using a specific value. _Negative abilities are in fact ability ranges_.

Negative abilities are EVEN MORE FLEXIBLE IN FM 2016, as there are intermediate values introduced for the first time. Therefore we don't move directly from -8 to -9 but there's the -85 range in-between, and so on. The ABILITY RANGE itself remains the same as always to 30 points.

Negative ability ranges explained

This is how minus ability ranges go.

  -10 = 170-200
  -95 = 160-190
  -9 = 150-180
  -85 = 140-170
  -8 = 130-160
  -75 = 120-150
  -7 = 110-140
  -65 = 100-130
  -6 = 90-120
  -55 = 80-110
  -5 = 70-100
  -45 = 60-90
  -4 = 50-80
  -35 = 40-70
  -3 = 30-60
  -25 = 20-50
  -2 = 10-40
  -15 = 0-30
  -1 = 0-20

The totally random ability

When the researchers have no idea about a player's ability, they resort to using the totally random ability value. THE ZERO ABILITY. Players with 0 ability can take literally any value between 0 and 200 in every new save started.

What is more important? Ability or Attributes?

I see this question a lot. The quick answer is that ATTRIBUTES ARE MORE IMPORTANT because they directly reflect a player's quality for specific positions and roles. _Current Ability and Potential Ability_ are indications that can give you a good idea of how talented a player could be, but they _don't reflect quality_ you can measure.

Having said that, THERE ARE PLAYERS WITH LOWER ABILITY WHO ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS WITH HIGHER ABILITY. It's all about _key attributes_ for given position and role.

What about ability stars?

The current and potential ABILITY STARS that your scouts and other backroom staff give on players CAN BE USUALLY INACCURATE AND MISLEADING. The reason is that they depend on several fluid factors, such as the ability of your staff to judge current and potential ability, the skill level of the league your team is currently competing in and the skill level of your squad itself.

As a result you might even see just 2 golden stars for potentially world class players. My advice is to either ignore these stars and count on your intuition or at least make sure you have great scouts who can provide you with a somewhat dependable opinion.

question: What can current and potential ability apply to?

answer: Both players and backroom staff members.

question: What range can current and potential ability have?

answer: 0 to 200.

question: What are negative abilities?

answer: They are ability ranges.

question: Why do negative abilities exist?

answer: It's a solution for when talent scouts and researchers do not want to set a fixed ability for players who have not yet proved themselves.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The article discusses the scoring metrics used to rank players' abilities in talent scouting for sports.


text:
     He sat comfortably in his chair, as his mind began to wander. A deep breath and a long drawn out sigh crept out of him. It's one of those sighs after a long day of work, or a long run. The ones where the world around you disappears for a moment and all of your thoughts take a break. The feeling of bliss is too short to truly remember and ultimately end up reminding you of how far you really are from it.

     After these brief seconds were up, the world that he had since forgotten was beginning to slowly creep back in. This happened in no striking or dramatic way, but he was beginning his decent back into the world.

     Thoughts of his dog, his house, this chair, or that itch he had not cared about moments ago suddenly filled his mind. None of this was immediately pleasant or unpleasant, but he could certainly feel which way it was going to go. Almost automatically he closed his eyes, ran his fingers through his hair, and let out a word, "Man...".

     There was no faking it now. He was far removed from that brief period of apathy just moments ago. The break had ended and he and his mind were back again. He missed that moment more than anything.

title: just wrote this its not very long.

question: Who is the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is not described.

question: What does the protagonist think about?

answer: He thinks about his dog, his house, the chair he is sitting in, and the itch he has.

question: Explain what the break is that the protagonist takes.

answer: During this "break", the character ceases to interact with the world around him and all of his thoughts disappear for a moment, which creates a feeling of bliss.

question: Describe the setting.

answer: The narrator is sitting in a chair in his house.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: While sitting in his chair, the narrator has a brief moment where he becomes detached from the world around him and all of his thoughts cease, bringing him bliss. This moment doesn't last long, as his thoughts soon resume, and he is left missing that moment of apathy.


text:
Dear Boy:
To this day I still cannot listen to Grizzly Bear’s album, “Yellow House” without thinking you are somewhere in the room; no worries however, it's a warm feeling.
The entire time this album plays I am transported away from my current time and situation to a place within the height of our romance.
Going to the cafe as soon as we both woke up. “Lullaby” playing as we walk in and, stoned, wait in line for your soy latte and my americano. A gentle fuzziness to the entire world, to every interaction. Still sharing in our private jokes from the night before while drinking our coffee. Reading books as we slowly woke up. Making funny faces at each other. Smoking cigarettes. A perfect start to the perfect day in a perfect world.
I remember the first time you took me to that world. We were traveling with Molly. You took me all over to places I went every day but never noticed before, like I was in our town for the first time. Or maybe I was just seeing you for the first time. I don’t know. But there it was. They always said you would know when it happened. You wouldn’t have any control of it. It would wreck your life and it would hurt. It would hurt more than anything has ever hurt before. Frankly, I never knew what in the hell they were talking about. All those friends and relatives, warning to be careful in the presence of it never realized that I not once even believed in it. Yet here I was, suddenly filled with it. No denying it. Feeling it so intensely, so fiercely that it, in an instant, consumed every bit of me, leaving nothing but an empty shell at the end, waiting pensively, imploring, begging absolutely to be filled with it again and again. At the end it ended up hurting so bad I thought I would lose my mind.
There was that time, all we did was go on a drive through the woods. We smoked a spliff together, turned up the music (Grizzly Bear, remember?) and drove. The sunlight was perfect, filtering through the trees in that impossible and amazing way. Coating everything in golden green light. Eating up the tiny wooded roads, traveling at insane speeds. Not speaking the entire time, reveling in the silence of the moment. It was when the silence was still a silence of beauty and togetherness. When the silence was still new and refreshing, when we were finally completely comfortable in each others presence. To this day it is the sound, color, and feeling of nostalgia. Warming me now as it did then, a gentle summer embrace in the middle of winter.
Grizzly Bear was playing the night we did Salvia for the first time together. It collapsed my world into little lego blocks and shattered it. Pulling everything I knew, everything I was into its vortex. In afterthought, that might have been foreshadowing. You thought salvia was stupid. After having such a moving experience I couldn’t understand how you didn’t take it seriously. We ended up arguing that night. Like so many others. Endlessly processing, endlessly discussing why we were no longer able to tolerate living with each other. By that time it had consumed me so much that I no longer thought that there could be another world. A world without it and without you. I couldn’t understand why it was no longer working, why it no longer felt good. I was willing to ask everyone and everything other than you. Afraid only of your answer. Those days were dark indeed, yet still you were a diamond among those dimly tinted memories. You still are.
Grizzly bear was also playing the day my friends in the mountains came and took me away from you. I was so elated to be moving out of that wretched town finally, but as the album came on I could only cry and cry. I think I cried most of the way to my new home.  I knew that I wasn’t sad about leaving town but only because you could not and would not have come with me. I cried because it was the end of the novel and I had been reading it for so long that I couldn’t even dream of it ending. Even after the climax and falling action. I cried because the best part of my life so far was officially over. I cried because I knew that I couldn’t have felt worse than I did that last week we were together. We couldn’t even be in the same room without fighting. Without retreating to the same old arguments all over again, being said more and more aggressively each time.
Honestly it felt good to cry that much. It validated that something real had happened. Something that was never going to happen again. Something that was impossible in the first place. Something that is still beautiful and terrifying in its scope of influence on my life.
Today the sun is out and the birds are sending gentle songs through my open window. Grizzly Bear plays softly in the background and I find myself reading a book that you  gave  to me long ago. Suddenly it is all there again. The terrible elation, the beautiful sadness. The pain and the sweet sweet smile right before we kissed. It sweeps through me quickly, passionately, leaving me feeling a bit post orgasmic. Weak kneed and a little red eyed (but no, that’s just my allergies and the pot, I promise). Feeling alive. Feeling like I never lived before.  You taught me that. To never stop living.
For that, and for everything
I thank you.
A million kisses,
Yours in love
ps. E was wrong. Belly button lint definitely comes from the shirt you are wearing at the moment, not the underwear you were wearing yesterday. I have been conducting a study out of bored curiosity, wearing underwear of a completely opposing color as my shirt the next day. Inevitably the color of my belly button lint is the same color as the shirt I am wearing, not the color of my undergarments the day before.

edit: styling didn't work the way I wanted apologies

title:
A draft some folks told me to post here
titled "dear boy"
crits welcome and wanted even.

question: What happens when the author listens to the "Yellow House" album?

answer: They get transported to a place within the height of their romance with the boy.

question: What experiences is the author reminiscent of?

answer: All the experiences they shared together with the "boy" while listening to Grizzly Bear.

question: When was the author's best part of their life officially over?

answer: When their friends came and took them away from the "boy" to their new home.

question: Why did it feel so good to cry so much?

answer: It validated that something real had happened.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The author writes a letter to their former lover and thanks him for teaching her to never stop living. The author reminisces on experiences shared together while listening to Grizzly Bear.


text: A great, majestic, mechanical snake, slithering through the city, on an endless quest of delivering little seedlings here and there, to let them go on with their meaningless lives, and carry on with their own quests. Hundreds of people packed into a tube, part of a colossal network, momentarily trapped in dynamic staticity. Moving, yet perfectly still. Maybe talking to a friend, a stranger, or another seedling. Maybe simply looking out the window, while listening to music thanks to the wonders of (relatively) modern technology, supposedly having profound thoughts of life, our existence, our place on this planet, perpetually suspended in space. In reality, their thoughts aren’t profound at all, they’re just the meaningless mental entanglements anyone could have. The essence of it all lies somewhere else, somewhere hidden.

title: Snake (129 words)

question: What is the true idendity of the snake?

answer: It seems to be some sort of train or subway.

question: Who are the seedlings?

answer: Human beings

question: How are the seedlings listening to music?

answer: Probably using phones or mp3 players.


text:
I walk up the cold steps. My heart beating hard, fast, feeling like it’s about to leap out of my chest. I don’t want to be here, why am I here. I could turn around right now, TURN AROUND NOW! The thought goes through my head. Panic fleeing through every nerve in my body. My senses strain, every sensation increased tenfold. The abstract buildings tower over me as I walk through the crowded, malodorous street full of strangers that I have never seen before; looking me up and down as if I am some sort of awkward monstrosity that isn't supposed to set feet on this universe. My head feels as if it is about to explode with anxiety streaming into my mind. I just feel wrong in this world, I don't belong here.
After realising I should be pacingly walking towards nowhere whilst thoughts of depression race through my dark soulless skull, I snap back into realisation and come to notice that I am just standing still. In the middle of a huge crowd. What is wrong with me? Am I too engrossed in my own restless thoughts that I don't even realise what I'm doing in this world? I am such an idiot! I must look like a horrific zombie thats to lazy to do anything. Okay, so I just need to put my head down and start walking again, is it really that hard? I start thinking to myself. So I did exactly that. My face goes red as a cherry which is just about to be picked by a young, tired farmer who I hope hates life as much as I do. I sometimes think to myself: is there anyone else in this ghostly world who hates life as much as I do?
Theres not much wrong in my life, it could be much worse. I could be starving in Africa or I could be orphaned at the age of 5. But everything is fine: My parents haven't split up, I'm an only child, school is pretty good apart from the bitchy girls that go around talking maliciously about young, sweet, living-life-to-the-fullest teenagers. I think I just dramatize my life. Even though I have to take about six-thousand different types of medication every meaningless morning to try and make me happy. It never really works.
It's four in the afternoon of a chilly winters day; by now I am normally heading my way towards the sweet, cozy, coffee smelling Starbucks resturant but I don't feel like nervously waiting in line with my heart in my mouth whilst my hands tremble just for a delectable bevarege which I normally have on a wreckless week day after a drowsy time at school. So instead, I decide to get on the cranky public bus which I have to walk a few busy streets and then turn left to get to my bus stop.
My whole body quivers in nerves whilst I stand up next to the some-what cheerful, to-old-to-drive bus driver. I noiselessly try to order my single child bus ticket (to Satan's palace, please) but instead, I got harmlessly interrupted-
''sorry ma'am? I didn't quite catch that'' the bus driver excused
no no no no no no no no no
Instead of answering him I manage to make it such an awkward situation for me and this cheerful bus driver, that I decide and just walk off the bus! Yes, I actually just walked off the bus! What the heck is wrong with me?! I could of just said it a bit louder and it wouldn't of been a problem!

title: Isolation Short Story

question: Is the narrator having a panic attack?

answer: It seems like her symptoms are in line with one.

question: Why is she about to be "picked by a farmer"?

answer: Maybe this is a dating or matchmaking situation setup? This seems like a metaphor.

question: what is going on?

answer: She seems to be ona bus at some point, heading to a Starbucks.

question: Why did she buy a child's ticket?

answer: Maybe she is a child.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is out in a crowd having a panic attack. She decides to get on a bus and head to a Starbucks she seems to frequent and that is comforting to her. On the bus, the driver speaks to her, rather innocently, but she finds this interaction jarring.


text:
MAKE A FRESH START

A change of season shouldn’t stop your drive for greatness. With a new year just around the corner, there’s no better time than now to shift your career into overdrive and join the FBI.

hero_image

[Homepage Jumbotron]

Featured Item Image

[IT Careers]

Featured Item Image

[Forensic Accountant ]

Featured Item Image

[Attorney]

Featured Item Image

[Victim Specialist]

[Special Agent Jumbotron]

SPECIAL AGENTS _AT THE FBI_

As an FBI Special Agent, you will be at the forefront of our mission to get ahead of threats. Bring your skills, talent and dedication to a team working at the highest levels of investigations.

[Huntsville, AL]

OPPORTUNITIES IN HUNTSVILLE, AL

Learn about new FBI job opportunities in Huntsville, AL, where you could be at the forefront of our mission. Huntsville is welcoming a cross section of FBI employees to expand its presence at the FBI’s Redstone Arsenal facility. Relocation opportunities are available for you and your family. Bring your dedication to the FBI and a brand new facility!

question: What is this article recruiting for?

answer: To become a Special Agent of the FBI

question: Is there a specific location mentioned?

answer: Huntsville, Alabama

question: Why should the reader join the FBI?

answer: To get ahead of threats and to utilize their skills in order o work in the highest levels of investigation.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A careers page for the FBI. The page is recruiting people for the Redstone Arsenal Facility.


text:
OLUF WOLD-TORNE (7 November 1867-19 March 1919) was a Norwegian painter, illustrator, educator and designer. He was known primarily for landscapes and still-lifes and was influenced by Cézanne.[1]

Early life

He was born in Son (now Vestby), Norway. He was the son of Oluf Emil Wold (1826–67) and Marie Therese Ottesen (1838–193). His father had been in the timber business, but went bankrupt and died before he was born. In 1869 his mother married merchant Søren Thorne (1817-1900). He grew up in the village of Hølen in Akershus where his step-father owned a general store.[2]

Career

In 1887, after displaying some artistic talent, his relatives sent him for his first art lessons at the Royal Drawing School (now Norwegian National Academy of Craft and Art Industry) under Wilhelm Peters (1887-89). Two years later, he enrolled at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts in Copenhagen, but was dissatisfied with the program there, so he enrolled at Kristian Zahrtmanns malerskole run by Kristian Zahrtmann from 1890. Subsequently he was a student of Erik Werenskiold and Eilif Peterssen in 1891.[3] [4]

In 1893, he traveled to Paris with his friend, Thorvald Erichsen, and studied with Fernand Cormon and Alfred Philippe Roll. He then lived in Florence for a year from 1895 to 1896. In 1897, he designed currency for the Norges Bank. He had his first major exhibit in 1899 at the Høstutstillingen in Oslo.[5]

In 1910, together with Henrik Sørensen, Arne Kavli and Erichsen, he was one of the founding members of the Artist Association (_Kunstnerforbundet_), the oldest artist's gallery of contemporary art in Oslo. From 1912 until 1917, he was a teacher at the Royal Drawing School.[6]

Awards

He received 1st prize at the Kunstindustrimuseet in Oslo (1898). He was awarded a bronze medal for _Verdensutst_ (1900) at the Exposition Universelle in Paris. He was awarded the Finnes legat (1894), Houens legat (1904) and Rasmus Meyers legat (1917).[7]

He is represented in the National Gallery (_Nasjonalgalleriet_) by a number of his works including _Kunstnerens hustru, malerinnen Kristine f. Laache_ (1899), _Hest i fjellet_ (ca. 1902), _Fajansekatten_ (1907) and _Blått badehus_ (1911).

Personal life

His wife was the painter and textile artist, Kristine Laache (1867–1946), daughter of Nils Jacob Laache, Bishop of Trondheim. Together, they created designs for stained glass, stationery and jewelry. Periodically between 1907-10, he also designed porcelain and ceramics for Porsgrund.[8]

Gallery

Oluf Wold-Torne - Kunstnerens hustru, malerinnen Kristine f. Laache - Nasjonalmuseet - NG.M.01673.jpg|_Kunstnerens hustru Kristine f. Laache_ (1899) WTorne-Horse.jpg|_Hest i fjellet_ (ca. 1902) WTorne-Bathhouse.jpg|_Blått badehus_ (1911) WTorne-Cat.jpg|_Fajansekatten_ (1907)

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

title: Oluf Wold-Torne

question: Who was Oluf Wold-Torne?

answer: Oluf Wold-Torne was a Norwegian painter, illustrator, educator, and designer.

question: Which artist had a significant influence on Wold-Torne?

answer: Cézanne.

question: When did Wold-Torne live?

answer: He lived from 1867-1919.

question: Where did he teach?

answer: He taught at the Royal Drawing School.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Oluf Wold-Torne was a Norwegian painter, illustrator, educator, and designer influenced by Cézanne.


text:
UPCOMING EVENTS

“Working with Dayna Johnson has been an absolute pleasure!  What I loved about working with Dayna and the Novonee community was that she was able to help us fully utilize our practice management software.  Dentrix is so multi-faceted there are SO many features that we weren’t fully taking advantage of. In Dentrix, there are many ways to navigate to the same place and it was so nice to be shown easier, more efficient ways to accomplish the tasks.  Dayna is a wealth of information and I would recommend her and the Novonee community whole heartedly to anyone who uses Dentrix!”

Katie – Office Manager

[Ask the experts 2]

LIVE EVENTS

Ask the Experts live events give you the opportunity to ask the questions and we get to help solve them together. This interactive user meeting is moderated by Dayna Johnson. With more than 25 years in the dental industry, Dayna is a veteran trainer (working with Dentrix for more than 15 years).

It is estimated that a dental practice only uses 10-15% of its practice management software and the average practice has team turnover every 18 months. Expand your knowledge and become a superuser.

Whether you have been using Dentrix for 10 days or 10 years, there is always something new to learn. Do you wonder if there is a way to get your entire team all on the same page? Are you looking for ways to save time? Do you want to increase your cash flow?

Dayna moderates 4-6 live Ask the Experts events each month in the Novonee membership group. If you would like to learn more about being part of this exclusive group, click on the Learn More button.

PAST EVENTS

Why do I do it? Well . . . my mission is to be a Voice, an Advocate, and a Resource to all the Dentrix users in the world. It brings me joy seeing the light bulb moments when team members or audience members say "OMG! I didn't know Dentrix could do that."

When I first became a certified Dentrix trainer in 2006, I never would have thought in a million years that I would have a library of online courses and webinars. Working with people like you gives me motivation to bring new and exciting topics to help you learn and grow.

As you’ll see, I have an online library of resources you will love.

[Join Today page - use for top image]

"I just wanted to send an email to express how much I loved the last webinar that I watched about treatment planning. I learned new tips and tricks that I am very excited about implementing in our practice to help streamline our treatment planning process and make it easier for everyone in the team! The tips I learned from this webinar will save us time and help with communication throughout the whole office, I am very excited to use these new tools I have learned. There are so many resources in Dentrix that can be used to make the day run more efficiently, and Dayna does an amazing job of uncovering these tools so that they are accessible to anyone. I am so glad to have a resource like her available to me!"

Nikki @ CE Family Dental North

If you are like Nikki, you have a passion for learning and will do whatever it takes to enjoy the career, you have chosen in dentistry. Optimizing your software can help with all of that.

Our resources will help you to:

-   Optimize your Dentrix software
-   On-board new team members
-   Give you one-one-one time to ask questions
-   Download more resource guides
-   Provide content for your next team meeting

[43f1f4a689b02745d7c7f21804d7d143c29d0ffe_s2_n1]

Rae Dental Management, LLC is designated as an Approved PACE Program Provider by the Academy of General Dentistry. The formal continuing education programs of this program provider are accepted by the AGD for Fellowship/Mastership and membership maintenance credit. Approval does not imply acceptance by a state or provincial board of dentistry or AGD endorsement. The current term of approval extends from February 28, 2018 to February 28, 2021. Provider ID#383397

question: What does the text say about the qualities of a good dentist?

question: What does the text say about Dayna Johnson?

answer: Dayna Johnson has more than 25 years of experience in the dental industry. She is a veteran trainer from Novonee who has worked with Dentrix for more than 15 years. Dayna helps Detrix users fully utilize the practice management software's many features. She moderates 4-6 live Ask the Experts each month in the Novonee membership group.

question: What does the text say about Dentrix?

answer: Dentrix is dental management software for dentistry practitioners. The software has a lot of tools and resources that can help dental offices communicate efficiently and streamline their treatment planning processes. Dentrix can save users time and even increase cash flow in dental practices.

question: What does the text say about Novonee?

answer: It appears that Novonee is a community of Dentrix experts trainers that offer training to Dentrix users to become superusers. Dayna Johnson and the blog post's author are Dentrix experts from the Novonee community. There is an exclusive Novonee membership group that offers 4-6 live Ask the Experts events each month that are moderated by Johnson. Novonee offers training that can help optimize Dentrix software, onboard new team members, download resources, and more.


text:
SELECT * FROM builds WHERE id=297
Access denied for user 'root'@'localhost' (using password: NO)

question: Describe the person trying to log in

answer: Someone who thinks that they are important enough to access content without providing the correct password


text:
Escaping the Dream
The boy is trapped by nightmares and darkness. He can't escape.

At sunset, he climbs into his bed and dreams of lies, pain and death...

The putrid stench of dying, rotting flesh. Why? Why is life so pitiful? The ground is littered with death. The skies weep, tossing down puddles of endless misery. The red lake grows larger.

I toss and turn, but I stay still, possessed by a living nightmare. Beads of sweat accumulate on my forehead. I'm drowning. The water... It never stops. Make it stop. Stop!

Quiet. In the distance. Are those people? ...Demons. Run.

I'm one of them. How could this be? How could this happen?

The screams, the blood, the terror, pulsing through the veins of a thousand sleeping warriors all armored and ready for war. They watch, frozen like statues as clouds of dark mist cascade on their helpless bodies.

A lake of blood.

Did it end? Is it over? The covers. They strangle me. I'm choking. Get it off! Stop it! Get away!

The dark mist. It won't leave.

I fly over the blood stained hills, the water reflecting the gruesome battle. I'm flying? What am I? What have I become?

Listen. The sounds of wounded men.
Somebody help them!
But there's no time to waste.

The door opens. A cloaked figure silently glides to the bedside of a troubled boy and whispers in the dead of night.

No audible words.

The ritual begins.

No... The end is near. The ritual...  is already over.

What happened?

The boy awakens. He sees a man in a robe on his bedside. The man is talking.

The boy asks the man, "What happened? I'm scared."

"Well, son, Satan tried to scare my little warrior tonight, but he won't win."

"How do you know that?"
The boy had no comprehension of Satan, but he was troubled by the name regardless.

"Because I happen to be your father. I'm here to protect you, son."

The boy, comforted by the robed man, slowly glided back underneath the covers as the robed man tucked him in.

The boy, once asleep, dreamt about a wonderful place. Beautiful, winged creatures soared effortlessly through silky skies, emitting light on their journeys. Magnificent buildings flooded the golden streets, and joyous praises could be heard throughout.

The boy, guided by instinct, found and opened the door to his house.

The robed man, waiting for him through the door, took the boy's hand and guided him through marble stairways, high arches, and intricately detailed furnished rooms.

The boy, curious by the unworldly beauty of the place, outstretched his hands and delicately glided his small fingers across the walls in awe of the mysterious texture.

When the boy had satisfied his curiosity, the robed man took the boy's hand once again and led him outside.

They walked through the streets, observing the peculiar yet beautiful creatures that endlessly fluttered around the robed man.

As they approached closer to one of the creatures, the boy could hear an angelic voice resonating loudly from its mouth.

The creature spoke of a wonderful king who conquered death and defeated sin, but the boy had never heard those words before. He had no ability to comprehend the story that was being told, but he enjoyed listening to the voice nonetheless.

His eyes teared up, and his vision blurred. He wasn't scared, however. His mind rattled with love, hope, peace, and joy, emotions he had never experienced before.

The emotions, beautiful creatures, the golden streets and the perfect climate. Paradise. How could one long for anything else?

The boy peacefully awoke at sunrise. He hopped enthusiastically to the window and opened the blinds. His eyes caught the first glimpse of the sunrise in the distance, and he felt happy.

His hands touched the cold window, and he made a shape of a cross with his finger out of the condensation on the glass. It was a symbol he had never seen before, yet he felt so attached to it.

He felt like he was dreaming...

But he had escaped.

title:
Escaping the Dream
- A short story/free-verse poem I created. Constructive criticism is appreciated! Just please don't go overboard on swearing.

question: Explain the theme of the story.

answer: The primary theme of the story seems to be sin. The boy is saved from his nightmare because he is devoid of sin, whereas the screams seem to be coming from those who have sinned by killing or worse during combat-the text says they are warriors. In the end he escapes his bad dream and is led by a beautiful winged creature-a kind who has defeated sin-and led to paradise. He wakes safe because of this, or so the story implies.

question: Summarize the conditions under which the boy began having these nightmares.

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

answer: The boy has essentially been condemned to hell in his dreamscape, only to be saved by someone who resembles notions of an angel. He still has to endure the hellish landscape and the tortured screams of fallen soldiers who have sinned, and the boy seems unsure as to whether or not he will escape-or how. The story seems to indicate this dream plays out frequently, complete with his being saved in the end and escorted to paradise, or heaven.


text:
Peter

As blood dripped from his new American Apparel t-shirt, Peter wondered if he'd made a mistake. It would take an awful amount of time to get it out, it was cotton after all, and had cost him a dear amount of money. He remembered when he bought it, it was a hot, stuffy day and the cashier was a chubby lady called Vicky. His card had been rejected by the machine at least 5 times before he'd gotten it to work. He'd left rather irritated that it had taken so long but pleased that he'd bought a new shirt and some socks. He glanced down at his hand and the still warm Smith and Wesson revolver that rested in his gnarled palm. The smell of smoke from the barrel  and chamber made him screw up his nose in disgust. His father was a smoker, at least he had been till Peter had taken him into the back garden and caved the back of his skull in with a spade for shouting at him one too many times. He cast the revolver aside onto the now red carpet, and brushed himself down. He picked a particularly large piece of flesh from his midriff and held it up to his eyes. He studied it closely before deciding it must be ear, judging by the cartilagenous texture of the skin. He felt his own ear, it was cold to the touch, which was when Peter realised he was still standing in the open doorway of the house. He shut the door briskly and strode over the mangled corpse that lay before him towards the kitchen. He started the kettle, quickly realised it had not been filled, tutted, and then refilled it from the tap. He waited in silence for it to boil and placed a teabag with surgeon-like precision into the Thomas the Tank Engine mug he had taken from the shelf. He poured exactly 375ml of hot water into his mug, stirred six times and removed the teabag before adding a teaspoon of milk. He watched as the reddish brown of the water slowly turned into a more pleasing creamy colour. He returned to the hallway and looked down at the man he had shot in the head. He sipped his tea at regular intervals whilst he pondered this man's story. Had he known this was to be his last day on Earth? Did he know that just 12 and a haf hours after he had woken up and started breakfast that his frontal lobe would be resting on his hallway chandelier? Maybe he'd considered not going into work and just staying in bed, not caring whether or not his spreadsheet would be ready by wednesday. He wondered if this man knew that Peter had followed him home, before entering his house and watching Eastenders for a half hour and eating cheese and pickle on toast. Peter wondered if he should move the body from the hallway, but decided against it as he didn't want blood over any more of the house, that would be unsightly. Instead he walked back into the kitchen and set his empty mug into the wash basin, then ran the water over his fingers until it became warm. He moved the tap head over the basin, squirted some fairy liquid into the mug and began to wash it with a nearby washcloth. Once it was done he decided he may as well continue as not to waste water and took a dirty plate from the counter. He placed into the water and rubbed it clockwise in concentric circles, being careful to clear all crumbs or left over pickle from the china. Peter glanced around the kitchen, impressed by the cleanliness. It was not unlike his own home, the mantelpiece was well dusted and the potted plant, a small spider-plant, appeared to be in good health. There were also some cards stacked neatly on the shelf. Peter dried his hands on his ruined shirt and picked up the first card. It had a picture of a Chinchilla with sunglasses on the front with the caption 'Chinchilling'. Peter allowed a smile to play on his lips before rapidly dismissing it. He opened the card to find the words 'Happy Birthday Dad, we all love you very much - Amy and Jess' in childish scrawl. He placed the card back onto the pile carefully and thought about the two children, Amy and Jessica. He thought they must look like their Dad, but the corpse in the hallway wasn't proving very useful to his mental image so Peter entered the living room in search of a picture of the pair. Adverts droned on quietly from the  old Toshiba television which lit the room with a dim, pulsing glow. Peter's fuzzy shadow lay on the wall, as silent as he was. After a few minutes of searching, Peter recovered a photo of two smiling girls, aged around 3 and 6 and who he presumed to be their mother standing in front of Blackpool tower. Peter had been to Blackpool before with his schoolmates, he'd sat on the end of the pier fiddling with some blu-tak whilst the other children played on the rides or with the fairground games. Mr Hershaw, his science teacher, had approached him and tried to convince him to come and play with the others. Peter had sat in silence wishing Mr Hershaw would leave. Mr Hershaw's cat died the next week, which was unfortunate for him. He placed the picture back on the window sill and sat down cross legged on the floor. The adverts on the television had stopped playing and had been replaced by a loud, tall man with large teeth hosting a family oriented gameshow. Peter grimaced and flicked the tv off with the sauce-stained remote. He now sat in the dark, alone in a foreign house with corpse for his only companion. It was almost funny, Peter felt like laughing; but he didn't laugh. He simply stood up and walked back into the doorway, he didn't need light to navigate, he had already memorized the structure of the small house. He stepped back over the body and grasped the brass doorknob. It was cold and he withdrew his hand quickly. Peter decided it would be wise to leave in more than just his t-shirt. He rolled the man over on to his side, so as he wouldn't have to step back over him. Peter was a skinny man, he always had been, and so rolling over the man's rather hefty frame was no easy task. He scoured the house for a coat, but quickly realised that the cadaver was the only one sporting a jacket. He heaved at the hem of the jacket, pulling it from the body. He did not see any point in un-buttoning it first as there was no head to make removal particularly difficult. He pulled the bloodied Weird Fish coat over his head, it was still warm and had some weight to it. Peter rifled through the pockets and picked out a pair of keys and an embroidered hankerchief. The keys had the words 'Renault' etched into them, and so Peter concluded that they must be for the car that resided in the driveway. Peter considered taking the car rather than walking, it was cold and he was already beginning to hear sirens. He had realised shortly after pulling the trigger that a high calibre handgun was not the most silent of killing devices, and it seemed that someone had noticed.

title: 'Peter' - [unfinished]

question: Why is the man's frontal lobe resting on the chandelier?

answer: Peter shot him and murdered him.


text:
“Gather ‘round, children. I’m going to tell you the story of the Mighty King Colossus”, Grandma Eleanor announced. She had loved telling her grand-daughters her stories, and they quite enjoyed her tales.

Mary, the oldest of her sisters, playfully urged her other siblings to the bench around their grandma. “But Grandma, have you not already told us this one?” Maggie, the youngest sister, pointed out. “Do you not want to hear it, dear?” she responded. “No, we do!” the middle sister, Lily, giggled. The old woman sat in front of them, ready to tell the family fable. The three children’s eyes grew wide in waiting. Green, hazel, and brown. They had such pretty eyes. Their attention grew, and she began:

Once, long ago in a castle much like ours lived the Great King Colossus. He was a kind and powerful ruler, and was given a name to be remembered for centuries. One fateful day, the Kind and his Queen were in the courtyard, playing with their two children. Everything was perfect. No wars to be fought, the soft whistle of the wind swaying through the tall grass, and the calm, blissful sound of the river flowing nearby. But, things were soon about to get very weary for the King. A messenger rode up to him, knelt before his majesty, and held out a letter. The King opened it and read aloud; “To King Colossus,
Your time as king has run out. I send this message to you as but a forewarning. For come sunrise, you will die with my blade in your heart. It will happen in the woods.
Signed, Zenoriah. You have until nightfall.”

The King was astonished. Zenoriah, the much feared King of Fire who sought to destroy him and his kingdom, had threatened them. But he would not stand by and let him succeed in his mission. And so, he set out to fight the final battle. But, his family refused to leave his side.

“I won’t stay waiting for a second dreading your death. If you are to go, let us, your own family, stand by your side.” With great defeated argument, he accepted, but they needed to be well hidden. And so, they ventured off into the forest together, searching for the fiery fiend. It was nearly nightfall when he appeared. But before the King could encounter him, the Queen stopped him. “Take this rose of the faeries, my love”, she said, “and be granted a second life.” The faeries had been known for blessing precious items, ensuring another life, fortune, luck, and other sorts. He was struck. But in return, he handed her a bottle. In the bottle was water from the famed Fountain of Youth. The King had collected it on one of his first voyages, years ago. “Take this, my Queen, and be granted eternal life.” Tears started to form in her eyes as her husband ran his fingers through her flowing, butterscotch hair. They were running out of time, and she and her children ducked under a well hidden cave opening. He then turned to face his enemy. Zenoriah’s black eyes stared menacingly at him. No sign of a soul, just cold pits of darkness. “I’ve been waiting”, he cackled. His voice was like a hissing snake. “I’d thought you wouldn’t make it. But, can’t miss your going-away party, can you?” And with those words, they both unsheathed their swords. The King wielded a blade forged in the very tunnels of Crystal Pass. But Zenoriah, his sword was created in what were probably the very pits of Hell. What with its burning, metal surface. Sparks flew into the air as his enemy’s ember blade crashed against his own. And in a sudden clang, his sword was broken. The fire of Zenoriah’s had melted through it. His shield was his only hope.

Every blow from the evil in front of him into his shield inched him closer and closer to the thundering waterfall. It was dangerous to be this close for the King, but even more for Zenoriah. The water would extinguish his flaming skin. In a single swing, the King went tumbling down the edge. He clutched for dear life on the wet rocks, his fingers slipping. It was too late. Or was it? As his hands were about to give way, he grabbed Zenoriah and pulled. They both plummeted into the dark water below. It was over. Or so he thought. He had transformed into a hawk, the symbol of his kingdom. His second life had been granted. His family was still hiding in the small cave, waiting for his return. After no sign, they emerged from inside. They thought that the worst had come, but all thought of that vanished when King Colossus flew overhead, and dropped the very rose down into the Queen’s hand. The royal family was absolutely euphoric to see that he was alive. But alas, he could no longer be with them. He was now a spirit guardian, and was responsible for watching all over the land. In his loving memory, they planted a towering oak tree. And to this very day, King Colossus flies high, watching over the land.

“That’s my favorite story”, uttered Lily when her grandma had stopped. She nodded, and directed the children inside. Once out of view, she turned to face an oak tree, in her hands a rose. She placed it on the ground, and looked up to see a hawk resting on a branch. “Farewell, my love”, she tenderly smiled at it. And as she walked away, the bird responded, “And to you as well, my Queen.”

title: The Legend of King Colossus (short story written for school)

question: How many grandchildren does Grandma Eleanor have?

answer: Three.

question: What did the letter say?

answer: The message was by Zenoriah, it said that the king's time had run out and this was a forewarning.

question: Who was Zenoriah?

answer: Zenoriah was the King of Fire.

question: Does King Colossus die?

answer: The King was now a spirit guardian.

question: Write a ~7 sentence summary.

answer:
Grandma Eleanor narrates the story of King Colossus to her three granddaughters.

The King is enjoying the day in the courtyard with the queen and their children when the messenger comes a reads aloud a death threat to the King from Zenoriah.
Zenoriah also threatened to destroy the kingdom.

The king and his family set out to battle Zenoriah. The queen and the children hide in a nearby cave while the king and Zenoriah hit the swords. The battle ends and the family comes out of the cave rejoicing at the sight of the King. But alas, he wouldn't be with them, he was now a spirit guardian.


text:
Policy —

Prosecutors claim All Writs Act can compel Apple to help unlock an iOS 7 iPhone.

[Feds: New judge must force iPhone unlock, overturning ruling that favored Apple]
As expected, federal prosecutors in an iPhone unlocking case in New York have now asked a more senior judge, known as a district judge, to countermand a magistrate judge who ruled in Apple’s favor last week.

Last week, US Magistrate Judge James Orenstein concluded that what the government was asking for went too far. In his ruling, he worried about a “virtually limitless expansion of the government's legal authority to surreptitiously intrude on personal privacy.”

The case involves Jun Feng, a drug dealer who has already pleaded guilty, and his seized iPhone 5S running iOS 7. Prosecutors have said previously that the investigation was not over and that it still needed data from Feng's phone. As the government reminded the court, Apple does have the ability to unlock this phone, unlike the seized iPhone 5C in San Bernardino. Moreover, as Department of Justice lawyers note, Apple has complied numerous times previously.

In its 51-page Monday filing, the government largely re-hashed its previous arguments, saying that existing law should force Apple’s assistance.

  In this case, the government arrested a criminal. The government got a warrant to search the criminal’s phone. Law enforcement agents tried to search the phone themselves, but determined they could not do so without risking the destruction of evidence. The government then applied for a second court order to ask Apple to perform a simple task: something that Apple can easily do, that it has done many times before, and that will have no effect on the security of its products or the safety of its customers. This is how the system is supposed to work.

In 2014 and 2015, Apple took a two-pronged approach to resisting government pressure: one was to make iOS 8 more resilient than previous versions of the operating system, making it impossible for Apple itself to bypass a passcode lockout. The other crucial element was to impose firmer legal resistance in court filings. The New York case is believed to be the first time that Apple openly resisted the government’s attempt to access a seized phone.

Agree to disagree?

This New York case pre-dates Apple's current battle with the government over a locked iPhone 5C that belonged to one of the shooters in the December 2015 terrorist attack in San Bernardino—that case is due to be heard in court this month in nearby Riverside, California. In the California case, federal investigators asked for and received an unprecedented court order compelling Apple to create a new firmware to unlock the device. In February 2016, Apple formally challenged that order, and the outcome is pending.

Both the New York and California cases, however, involve the government’s attempt to use an obscure 18th-Century statute known as the All Writs Act, which enables a court to order a person or a company to perform some action.

"Judge Orenstein ruled the FBI’s request would 'thoroughly undermine fundamental principles of the Constitution’ and we agree," an Apple spokesman told Ars in a statement. "We share the judge’s concern that misuse of the All Writs Act would start us down a slippery slope that threatens everyone’s safety and privacy."

The New York case, however, marks the first time that a federal judge has ruled in favor of a more privacy-minded Apple. More recent amicus, or friend of the court briefs, supporting Apple, have cited Judge Orenstein’s ruling.

“The government’s argument is: ‘I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you pesky magistrate!’” Riana Pfefferkorn, a legal fellow at the Stanford Center for Internet and Society, told Ars.

question: Why did the judge rule in favor of Apple?

answer: Fear of government intrusion in personal privacy

question: What is the All Writs Act?

answer: A statute enabling a court to order a company to perform an action.

question: Who does the iPhone 5C belong to?

answer: One of the terrorists from the 2015 San Bernardino attack

question: How does iOS 7 differ from iOS 8?

answer: iOS 8 is more resilient and therefore more secure and more difficult to bypass.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: A judge has ruled that the government cannot compel Apple to unlock a private citizen's iPhone because it threatens personal privacy.


text:
The fragrance of wild onions, sage, and fresh peeled carrots lingered in the air.  Mixed with a rabbit from one of the traps, dinner and dessert was bound to be delicious.  It was not often she could afford to offer dessert with a meal.  Her son would be home shortly, as the sun had set and the stars had taken their place in the sky.  Technically, her son was Graham the Fifth, named after his predecessors.  His father had joined his father before Graham was born, but still she named him according to tradition, in honor and memory of the Grahams that came before them.  This particular Graham was smarter than the last, if not a little more scrawny.  Nothing a full meal with a large serving of dessert couldn't remedy, she mused.

Amidst a flurry of cold and darkness, Graham stepped through the doorway, wet from the snow and chilled from the wind.  Naturally, Margery was older than Graham, but if looks were any indication it was by only a few years.  Even Graham would have had to remark how attractive his mother was.  It would be good to find a wife with such skill at housekeeping and just as pretty as well.

Graham slipped onto the stool with a sigh, heaving the satchel of goods onto the floor beside him.  With his blond hair and rosy cheeks, his youth was particularly evident as he waited for dinner, anticipating the dessert his mother had promised.  Margery began to serve him, as she had since his birth, and they spoke of his recent journey into the small town from hence he had just arrived.

Stirring the stew with one hand, she emptied the contents of her other into Graham's bowl.  The powder was but one of the steps she must take to regain her love and her youth.  Having but sipped his stew, Graham would begin to forget his life.  His daily toils, his meager education but most necessary she found, his family; his mother.

As they talked, Graham sensed something different in the air, a smell may be.  There was definitely hunger in the air as he graciously accepted the stew; it was not often his mother parted with one of her beloved albino rabbits.  In his living memory he could not recall the last time she had parted with one of her pets.  Although she often spoke of how it was his father's favorite dish, as well as his last.

With a belly full of rabbit stew, Graham began to relax, and slowly peel off his travelling clothes.  It had been the first time his mother had let him make the annual trip to Stockport by himself.  The shopkeeper had filled the order readily as always, but would not speak a word to Graham.  To Graham this was not much more peculiar than the years before, but the look on his face was queer when he realized that Graham had made the journey by himself.  Even queerer still was the small meat pie, the shopkeeper's daughter slipped him as he stepped out.  The pie was less than filling but tasty never the less.   Graham headed home, thinking of the daughter and wondering what her name could be.  The only woman Graham had ever known was his mother Margery, but he doubted they would have the same name.

Anticipation began to settle up on him, as he waited for the dessert to finish warming up.  Dessert in their meager household was a luxury never before experienced.  It was his 16th name day that provided the occasion.  Custom held that in the morning, Graham would be a full grown man.  It was for snow berries, a crucial and expensive ingredient for the dessert, which Graham had journeyed to town.

After a while the pie was ready, and Margery and Graham began to feast.  Just as his mother had promised, the dessert did indeed compliment the albino rabbit stew.  Drunk with food, Graham shuffled to his straw mat, to lie down.  He was not used to such rich food, and it began to make him feel strange.  His face became flush with heat, and in response Graham unbuttoned his shirt.  Beginning to perspire, he next unlaced his britches, removing them with a toss towards the corner.

Margery, noticing Graham's agitation began to worry over him, first bringing him a cool cloth for his forehead.  Having bade him lay down; she began to rub his body with a wet towel.  As she soothed him, his vision began to blur.  When this happened, he began to panic until Margery whispered that it would be alright, it was only the dessert and that soon all would be well.   He was reassured by his mother's smile, as he closed his eyes.

As soon as his eyelids descended, Margery took leave of him, and began to undress herself.  Slipping into a small night gown, she dabbed herself with the juice of the snow berries.  Next, she laid out several items on the table.  They would be needed when the sun rose.  But now it was time for dessert.

When she slowly lowered herself into her place on the straw mat beside Graham, he stirred awake.  With a grin on his face he caressed her face.  Who was this woman beside him he wondered.  His grin grew into a smirk, as he realized it didn't matter.  A busty blonde with good hips laying in his bed on his 16th name day, surely his mother had arranged this.  With a dim realization he thought it might be the storekeeper's daughter.

With the lust of youth he ripped his small clothes off and next her gown.  With a before unknown skill, he ravaged the woman, provoking moans from both himself and his lover.  When the life force left him, the heat began to fade, and Graham laid on his back and contentedly slipped into sleep with his arms and legs tangled amongst the woman's.
Margery woke early, and began to prepare for the day.  It was Graham's first day of manhood and things had to be prepared in just a certain way.  She sharpened a knife, as she hummed her favorite tune, and laid the ingredients beside their respective bowls.  It wouldn't hurt to have everything measured and ready for sunrise.

He awoke slowly, opening his eyes to wonder at the fading peculiar dream the dessert had brought.  The woman of his dreams was not to be seen, but his mother was whispering to herself as she fretted over some things on the table.  With the clarity of morning, Graham began to understand what his mother was whispering.  It was a list.  No, not really a list, but steps.  A list of actions he realized as she spoke of cooking the rabbit and the snow berries.

Graham was dismayed when he learned of the powder in his stew, and that it was meant to leave him unable to move; paralyzed.  His thoughts turned to shame and horror when he realized that it was his mother's moans he had induced the evening before.  It was not until she began to detail the next steps, that the terror seized him.  She meant to use the life force she had collected during the night and his blood to sustain her youth.  She needed his blood, all of it, and only the blood of a living relative infused with the pain and fear of death could make the potion powerful enough to work.

Graham realized with a chill that his mother thought him immobilized.  He stared at her as she came back to her place beside him on the mat and began to caress his cheek.  He remained expressionless as she spoke of her first husband Graham, and his untimely death.  It was through this ritual that she kept her lover alive, she explained.  For sixteen years at a time she would wait for one night of dessert.

As she held his cheek she brought the blade to his throat.  With a rage, Graham grasped her wrist.  Startled, Margery was dumbfounded.  This was not meant to be, this was not on the list would be her last murderous thought.  If gasping is fulfilling an action, then it could said it was her last. Graham leaned forward, kissed his lover once more, and connected the knife with Margery's heart.

With a fresh day, and a lifetime of manhood ahead of him, Graham set off for Stockport.  The idea of seeing the storekeeper's daughter again stirred his loins.  He wondered how she had known it was his name day. When Graham finally returned to Stockport, the shopkeeper, obviously pleased with himself, asked if he had enjoyed Helen's gift.

I could live forever, thought Graham as he presented the flowers.

title: The Fifth

question: What dessert did Graham eat?

answer: Snow berry pie.

question: Why didn't the chilli immobilize Graham?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: How old is Graham?

answer: Graham is sixteen (it is currently his sixteenth name day).

question: What does Graham do after killing Margery?

answer: After killing Margery, Graham sets off for Stockport to visit the storekeeper's daughter.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Graham returns home from fetching ingredients for his mother, who serves him stew and snowberry pie for dessert, which she drugs. After, Margery, his mother, tricks him into having sex with her. The sex is part of a ritual by which she means to steal his youth. She tries to cut his throat, but he is not immobilized as she'd hoped and turns the knife on her, killing her. He then goes to visit the shopkeeper's daughter, who caught his attention the day before.


text:
The ability to TRANSFER INFORMATION/KNOWLEDGE. Sub-power of Knowledge Manipulation.

-   1 Also Called
-   2 Capabilities
-   3 Applications
-   4 Associations
-   5 Limitations
-   6 Known Users
-   7 Known Objects

Also Called

-   Formulation Transfer
-   Knowledge Transfer

Capabilities

The user transfers information into another person's mind. This is particularly useful in reconnaissance missions or tests, since the user can send information regarding miscellaneous data, they can transfer even images and symbols to the person. The user can help others with answering questions and even in undercover operations, possessing knowledge of certain people. The user can help their allies navigate where to go by transferring "maps" into their heads. The data that the user can transfer also includes the knowledge of certain superpowers and secrets to techniques.

Applications

-   Calculation Transfer
-   Enhanced Investigation
-   Knowledge Absorption
-   Knowledge Projection
-   Knowledge Replication

Associations

-   Enhanced Intelligence
-   Enhanced Wisdom
-   Knowledge Manipulation

Limitations

-   Psychic Shield may interfere with/block the information transfer.
-   Inoperative on users of Psychic Immunity, unless it is deactivatable.
-   May not work with users of Brainlessness.

Known Users

-   Tar Gibbons (_Aliens Ate My Homework_)
-   Sigma (_Bungou Stray Dogs_)
-   Hibiki Lates (_Fairy Tail_)
-   Time Lords (_Doctor Who_)
-   Charles Xavier (_Marvel Comics_)
-   Jean Grey (_Marvel Comics_)
-   Mister Majestic (_WildStorm_)
-   Miss Martian (_DC Comics_)
-   Martian Manhunter (_DC Comics_)
-   The Stream (_Outer Limits_)
-   Echidna (_Re:Zero_)
-   Metatron (_Supernatural_)

Known Objects

-   EarPods (_Doctor Who_)

-   Powers
-   Supernatural Powers
-   Technology-based Powers
-   Projection Powers
-   Mental Power
-   Data-based powers

Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.

question: Where was this article published?

answer: That information can't be found

question: What is Transfer Information a sub-power of?

answer: Knowledge Manipulation

question: What can block/prevent Transfer Information?

answer: Psychic Shield, Psychic Immunity, or Brainlessness

question: What else is Transfer Information called?

answer: Transfer Knowledge, Formulation Transfer, or Knowledge Transfer

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The article describes the ability to transfer information to another person's mind.