text:
[A baobob tree in scrub woodland in Masvingo Province, Zimbabwe. Photo by Kjdhambuza.]
_A baobob tree in scrub woodland in Masvingo Province, Zimbabwe. Photo by Kjdhambuza._

Zimbabwe, home to more than 14 million people, is currently facing a severe economic crisis. Under President Robert Mugabe’s land distribution reforms, in the year 2000 all white-owned commercial farms were forcibly seized for redistribution to landless native Zimbabweans. In February this year, the BBC reported Mugabe had finally admitted his land reforms amounted to badly thought-out land policies. These reforms are thought to be the driving force behind Zimbabwe’s agriculture-based economy’s thunderous collapse.

Mugabe has previously blamed poor agricultural productivity on the weather and Western sanctions, as the BBC points out.

Once a potential bread basket for surrounding countries, Zimbabwe’s economic collapse led to severe shortages of food and fuel and an inflation rate estimated at 8.5 percent in 2013. To make matters worse, a majority of the population is without work. A 2009 estimate put the national unemployment rate in Zimbabwe at a whopping 95 percent.

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_Rainforest near Victoria Falls. Photo by Ninara._

In developing countries like Zimbabwe and in much of the rest of sub-Saharan Africa, fuelwood is a major source of energy for cooking and heating for people who can’t afford electricity. A 2014 study published in Resources and Environment highlights the severity of this issue in Zimbabwe. The study, which explores firewood consumption patterns, shines light on the severe shortage of electricity in Zimbabwe. It blames a weak infrastructure, erratic supply, maintenance issues and the unaffordable cost of electricity in the face of unemployment and low incomes for contributing to increased use of firewood, which, in turn, is driving deforestation in the country.

The study points out that the use of firewood in urban areas is a more imminent environmental concern than its use in rural areas. Rural households do not cut down whole trees and often collect dead wood which has a less intense environmental impact than urban firewood harvesting, which is concentrated on specific areas to reduce transport costs and involves cutting whole, live trees. The study says a high demand for firewood in Zimbabwe’s urban areas is causing deforestation and land degradation in other parts of the country – despite sustainability goals set forth in a United Nations Development Programme report pledging to curb deforestation by the end of 2015.

Another significant industry in Zimbabwe is tobacco, which has also been in the limelight recently for accelerating deforestation. According to an article published by the Inter Press Service (IPS), forests are being cleared and converted to tobacco fields in some remote areas.

“The rate at which deforestation is occurring here will convert Zimbabwe into an outright desert in just 35 years if pragmatic solutions are not proffered urgently and also if people keep razing down trees for firewood without regulation.” Marylin Smith, an independent conservationist based in Zimbabwe and a former staffer in the government of President Mugabe, told IPS. Smith blames the deforestation on the growing numbers of tobacco farmers who cut down trees to use to cure the cash crop. There are more than 88,000 tobacco farmers in Zimbabwe, according to the Tobacco Industry Marketing Board.

Tobacco leaves are dried, or cured, by circulating hot air around them for a week. In Zimbabwe, wood is the fuel of choice for curing tobacco.

“Curing tobacco using huge quantities of firewood and even increased domestic use of firewood in both rural and urban areas will leave Zimbabwe without forests…But really, it is difficult to object to firewood use when this is the only energy source most rural people have despite the environment being the worst casualty,” Thabilise Mlotshwa, an ecologist from an environmental lobby group called Save the Environment Association, told mongabay.com.

According to Global Forest Watch, Zimbabwe lost approximately 373,000 hectares of tree cover from 2001 through 2012, representing about 2 percent of the country’s total forest cover. Based on data from the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) five percent of Zimbabwe’s primary forests remained as of 2010.

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_
Zimbabwe is dominated by relatively sparse forest, with Global Forest Watch data showing only about 5 percent of the country’s forested area is comprised of thick tree cover with canopy coverage greater than 30 percent. Its protected areas (PAs) have not been immune from deforestation; Global Forest Watch Commodities shows that of the approximately 373,000 hectares of tree cover lost in Zimbabwe, more than 64,400 — 17 percent — occurred within PAs. In 2009 alone, more than 13,000 hectares of PA tree cover were lost. CLICK TO ENLARGE._

Zimbabwe isn’t the only African country dependent on wood for fuel. An estimated 90 percent of the entire continent’s population uses fuelwood for cooking; in sub-Saharan Africa, firewood and brush supply nearly 52 percent of all energy sources.

“Like several other remote parts of Zimbabwe, we have no electricity here and for years we have been depending on firewood, which is the main source of energy for rural dwellers even for the past generations, and you can just imagine the amount of deforestation remote areas continue to suffer,” Irene Chikono, a 61-year-old teacher who lives in Mutoko, 143 kilometers east of the capital Harare, told IPS.

However, even those who have access to electricity are subject to erratic power supplies from the state-owned Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA), which is failing to meet the demand for electricity owing to insufficient finances to import power. A single mother of three, Collina Hokonya lives in Harare’s high-density Mbare suburb. “With increasing electricity outages here, I often resort to buying firewood from vendors at local market stalls, who get this from farms neighboring the city,” she told IPS.

While the government claims it is doing all it can to fight deforestation, the indigenous timber merchants say that the faltering economy might make it hard for them to stop cutting down trees.

“We are into the timber business not by choice, but because of joblessness and we therefore want to make money in order to survive,” Mevion Javangwe, a merchant in Harare, told IPS.

According to an article in Newsday, 61 percent of the energy provided to Zimbabwe’s industry comes from fuelwood while electricity accounts for only 13 percent. Saviour Kasukuwere, the Zimbabwean Environment, Water and Climate minister estimates that over six million tons of firewood is consumed every year against a sustainable output of about 4.6 million tons.

Zimbabwe is also home to one of the world’s greatest wonders, Victoria Falls, as well as a host of wildlife including African elephants (Loxodonta africana), zebras (Equus zebra), lions (Panthera leo), impalas (Aepyceros melampus), the endangered African wild dog (Lycaon pictus), and the critically endangered black rhino (Diceros bicornis). Before the land reforms were implemented in 2000, Zimbabwe had 620 private game reserves with abundant and protected wildlife. Today, there are 14 of these reserves left.

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_Zimbabwe’s forests and grasslands are home to African wild dogs (Lycaon pictus), which are listed by the IUCN as Endangered. Photo by Charles J. Sharp._

The effects of a crippling economy have extended to the country’s natural heritage as well. According to a 2007 article in National Geographic, the Zimbabwean government slaughtered 100 elephants so their meat could be served at the nation’s independence celebrations in 2006. The article also claims that Zimbabwe sold ivory to China in exchange for military hardware. Not only is poaching a major threat to the country’s wildlife, the financial incentives of wildlife trafficking can be all the more enticing at a time when jobs are few and incomes are low.

In a more recent article published by a Zimbabwean newspaper, a farmer pledged to donate two buffalo, two elephants, a trophy lion, two sables and five impalas, together worth $120,000, to the 21st February Movement, which is an event meant to mark President Mugabe’s 91st birthday. Members of the local community alleged the farmer Tendai Musasa’s donation was not transparent and accused him of imposing himself and clandestinely exploiting resources at their expense without submitting the money to the community as expected. Villagers were reported to have said that the animals involved were part of their annual hunting quota and donating them meant no income for the whole year. They also said they were powerless because challenging the donation could be misinterpreted as unwillingness to participate in the celebrations.

To put in perspective just how bad Zimbabwe’s economy is – one Zimbabwean dollar is currently equal to roughly 0.00276 U.S. dollars; that is, two-tenths of a cent. With such a deep trench to crawl out of, the future of the country’s natural resources looks bleak at best. As Chikono, the teacher from Mutoko, told IPS, “We will only manage to fight deforestation if government brings electricity to our doorsteps, because without electricity we will keep cutting down trees for firewood.”

With such a slippery slope to conquer, many in Zimbabwe are choosing to walk away. As of 2014, almost 21 people out of every 1,000 were migrating out of the country – increasingly to South Africa and Bostwana – in search of a better future.

CITATIONS:

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    Dube, P., Musara, C., & Chitamba, J. (2014). Extinction Threat to Tree Species from Firewood Use in the Wake of Electric Power Cuts: A Case Study of Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. Resources and Environment, 4(6), 260-267.
-
    Hansen, M. C., P. V. Potapov, R. Moore, M. Hancher, S. A. Turubanova, A. Tyukavina, D. Thau, S. V. Stehman, S. J. Goetz, T. R. Loveland, A. Kommareddy, A. Egorov, L. Chini, C. O. Justice, and J. R. G. Townshend. 2013. “Hansen/UMD/Google/USGS/NASA Tree Cover Loss and Gain Area.” University of Maryland, Google, USGS, and NASA. Accessed through Global Forest Watch on Mar. 05, 2015. www.globalforestwatch.org
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    Hansen, M. C., P. V. Potapov, R. Moore, M. Hancher, S. A. Turubanova, A. Tyukavina, D. Thau, S. V. Stehman, S. J. Goetz, T. R. Loveland, A. Kommareddy, A. Egorov, L. Chini, C. O. Justice, and J. R. G. Townshend. 2013. “Tree Cover Extent.” University of Maryland, Google, USGS, and NASA. Accessed through Global Forest Watch on Mar. 05, 2015. www.globalforestwatch.org.
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    UNEP-WCMC, UNEP, and IUCN. “World Database on Protected Areas.” Accessed on Mar. 05, 2015. www.protectedplanet.net.

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question: Why is Zimbabwe facing a huge deforestation problem?

answer: Their electricity production or purchasing capacity is very low compared to the demand. The only locally available resource is firewood, which requires cutting down trees en masse to meet urban demand. Tobacco farmers also use firewood to cure their produce, which again requires a large amount of firewood.

question: Why can't the local populace transition to other energy sources?

answer: Electricity outages force the hands of people to purchase firewood. Unemployment forces the hands of other people to cut down trees so that they can afford to eat.

question: What is the long-term harm of deforestation?

answer: At the rate Zimbabwe uses firewood, it's expected that the nation will turn into a desert in 35 years.

question: Why is unemployment so high in Zimbabwe?

answer: Their mostly agriculture-based economy collapsed after President Mugabe's land distribution reforms, which forcefully re-allocated all white-owned commercial farms to landless native Zimbabweans.

question: What problems other than massive unemployment and deforestation does Zimbabwe face?

answer: Another big problem is poaching. Zimbabwe used to have 620 private game reserves with abundant and protected wildlife. There are only 14 of those left by the time of the article's writing.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Zimbabwe faces a severe economic crisis after the collapse of its agriculture-based economy. President Mugabe admits the land distribution reforms, which forcefully re-allocated all white-owned commercial farms to landless native Zimbabweans, are to blame. The unemployment in the nation is around 95%. The lack of energy infrastructure and the very profitable tobacco industry's curing methods for its products both necessitate heavy use of firewood. Consequently, the nation is facing a severe risk of deforestation, which threatens to turn the nation into a desert in thirty-five years.


split: train

text:
It was a normal day. In fact, it was a day so normal, it was almost strange; after all, most days have at least something out of the ordinary happen. To have a day where everything goes to plan is odd, and almost enough to draw suspicion. But even under close scrutiny, nothing was found. It seemed to be just your average, run-of-the-mill Tuesday.

Except it was Wednesday.

“Ugh, it happened again,” Monica moaned, dropping her bag inside the door as she walked through. Rain soaked the parts of her clothing the umbrella couldn’t protect, and usually straight red hair had become a tangled mess below her shoulders. A pout clouded an otherwise attractive face as she turned and faced the living room’s sole occupant.

“Which it? The guy with the hook for a hand?” David asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose. The thirteen year old grinned at the sour look on his sister’s face.

“No, thank goodness. I swear, if he tries to hook my underwear one more time, I’m going to bury that thing in his eye!” she fumed, flopping onto the couch and kicking off her heels. “No, I lost a day. Again. I could have sworn today was Tuesday.”

“Yesterday was Tuesday,” David offered absently, staring at the papers in front of him once again.

“I know that now, genius,” Monica snapped half-heartedly. “I was on the wrong dance schedule all morning. Bob yelled at me, said I was messing up his choreography. As if anyone even cares; as long as half-naked women are dancing, men aren’t paying attention to the choreography.”

“I’m not gonna comment,” her brother answered.

Monica chuckled. “Smart kid,” she said. “What are you working on?”

“Next month. If we keep the way we’re going, we’ll be about $50 behind our rent.”

“Can’t we take that out of food?”

David shook his head. “I’ve got us on two meals a day already, and you need to stay healthy to keep dancing. Dad still gets his allowance…”

“Which means beer,” Monica grumbled.

“… and he stays in his room. I’m mowing lawns for Mrs. Ellis, Mr. Brown, and Mr. Lewis this next week. Which means the only thing left to take money from is…”

“No, David.” Monica cut him off. “We aren’t taking it from our savings. There’s barely enough in there to send you to a community college as it is.”

“We need the money,” David insisted, facing his sister once again.

“And we’ll get it. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. I always do.” She gave him a lopsided grin, tussling his short brown hair. “One of us has to make it big.”

David looked down, and Monica put her arm around his shoulders. “Look, David, it will be fine. I always take care of us, right?”

“You always take care of me and dad,” he answered bitterly. “Who takes care of you?”

Monica paused for a moment, taken by surprise and unsure what to say.

“My loverly child’ren!”

Monica closed her eyes in exasperation. “Is he drunk already? It’s only six!” she whispered David.

“I don’t know! I thought I found all the bottles we hadn’t locked in the fridge! He’s good at hiding them,” he grunted in response.

“What’re we doin’, what’re we doin’ over here?” their father asked, stumbling towards the table. Monica jumped up and supported him under one shoulder.

“Dad,” she said sweetly, “Did you start drinking early again? I thought we weren’t going to do that anymore.”

“’m not drunk! Jus’ sick of bein’ cooped up, s’all.” Glancing down at his soon, the father’s face softened. “How’s my genius doin’? You aren’t gonna follow yer’ sister n’ become a stripper, right?”

David turned red, and Monica jumped in before he could speak. “You’re right, dad. He’s going to college, he’ll be a big business man. He’s much too smart to end up like me.”

“Damn’ed right he is,” her father stated with conviction. “Ev’n now, he’s doin’ the whole money thing, with our bills. Smart boy, smart boy.”

“Yes, dad, he is. But dad, it looks like we’re not going to have enough money,” Monica continued, turning her father to face her and holding his shoulders for support. “Do you think we could use some of your allowance for rent this month?”

Her father’s face crumpled, and tears began to fall from his eyes. “I spent’t all already, I was thirsty. I’m sorry,” he blubbered. Monica let her head drop, fighting back her own tears of frustration. When she looked up, her smile was back in place.

“It’s okay, dad. We’ll be fine. Why don’t we go into the living room so you can watch the game?”

“I’m a terrible father! I’ve got a son, who’sa genius, slavin’ away, and a stripper-daughter. I’m such a terr’ble father,” he wailed and moaned, allowing his daughter to lead him to the couch and lower him down. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before his snores could be heard from the kitchen table.

Monica walked back in, massaging her temples. “It’s going to be hell when he wakes up with that hangover,” she muttered. Seeing David’s expression, she brightened. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m gonna find out how to get us that extra $50. Just let me clean up a bit.”

Head high, she walked down the hall into the bathroom. She rummaged through the drawers until she found the small plastic bottle she was looking for.

“These had better work as well as they claim,” she muttered to herself, taking the prescribed amount and tilting her head back to swallow it.

“Just make sure this one doesn’t hit you.”

Monica jumped at the voice and spun to face her brother. Neither said anything for a moment, and she eventually let down her guard.

“I guess you figured it out, huh?” she asked, holding up the bottle of birth control pills.

“Your make-up was good. But I know a black eye when I see one. I’ve gotten a couple myself,” the small boy grinned slightly.

Monica smiled and pulled her brother into a hug. They stood for a long moment before David spoke again.

“It’s not worth it. Me going to some community college is not worth what you’re doing.”

Monica cringed at his voice; so distant, it sounded as if he might be in a daze. Pulling away from him, she bent until she was looking him in the eye.

“Yes, David, it is. You’re smart; you can make it big. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine.” When he didn’t answer, she grinned. “Just remember, some day when you’re big and famous and rich, who helped you get there. Just some stripper.”

David’s eyes watered, and he pulled his sister into a hug again. “You’re not just some stripper. You’re my sister.”

Monica was silent a moment, contemplating his words. Then she chuckled.

“You always were the genius. Come on, let’s get to bed. Another average Tuesday, huh?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Shut up.”

title: Wednesday

question: What does Monica do for a living?

answer: She is a stripper.

question: What is Monica's goal?

answer: To save enough money to put her younger brother through college.

question: What is keeping Monica from achieving her goal?

answer: Her father is an alcoholic and does nothing for them.

question: What is David attempting to convince Monica to do?

answer: To dip into their savings to make the budget.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: This story is about a sister who tries to support her younger brother and her father by being a stripper. Her father is an alcoholic who does not do anything for them. Her younger brother is a genius whom she hopes to put through college.


text:
I've never really written anything before, so sorry if it's terrible. Critique is always welcome!

***********************************************************

   It was two in the afternoon when Jack decided to go for a walk. The house was empty, as usual, and loneliness always made him want to be outside. Grabbing his copy of Animal Farm, he threw on a thin sweatshirt and closed the door softly behind him, as if trying to tell his house of his somber mood. Standing just outside his door, he paused only to sigh, and then set forth toward the park.

   The walk was uneventful, but the park was quite the opposite: children chasing squirrels, couples walking dogs and students holding hands filled the cobblestone walkways while a stranger strumming the guitar laid on the grass, humming to himself in self-enjoyment.

   Jack found an empty bench on the far side of the park; he always found that this area was far more enjoyable. There was less noise, less traffic, and the leaves on the trees were always arranged in such a way that they left little patches of light flickering across the ground. It was late August, the weather was beginning to cool, and the crisp autumn air was creeping up on the humidity of summer.

   On the bench, Jack made himself comfortable. He leaned back, draped the ankle of his right foot over the knee of his left, and opened the book. In Jack’s opinion, reading was an activity that was best enjoyed outside in public places. It let him dive deeper into his thoughts, and though he was surrounded by many people, it left that lingering feeling of loneliness. It was a feeling that Jack was so accustomed to that he had convinced himself that he truly enjoyed it.

   Jack was only a quarter of the way down his third page when he first saw the glimmer of light-orange out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t look up, but he could tell that a person was approaching him, a girl. Confidence was in her steps, and when she neared the bench, she stopped.

   “Mind if I sit here?”

   Jack looked up. Her golden hair was the first thing he noticed, followed quickly by her bright orange dress that swayed gently with the wind. Her sudden vibrant appearance caught him so off guard that he almost forgot to reply.

   “Oh, of course!” He slid over to the left, making room for her.

   The girl smiled, a genuine, kind smile, and sat down gracefully. She put her bag down beside her and pulled out a book of her own. Within minutes, the two were completely absorbed in their reading. Any stranger that walked by could have rightfully assumed that they were blissfully unaware of the other.

   Except that Jack wasn’t. He was painfully aware of the girl’s presence, even more so when she pulled out an old copy of 1984. More than once, he debated turning to her and innocently exclaiming, “Orwell!”

   She would look at him with confusion. “Sorry?”

   “George Orwell,” he would say again, motioning toward her novel.

   “Oh, yeah.” She would smile and look at the cover, as if noticing it for the first time.

   “It’s a good one.”

   “Oh it’s my favorite!” She would exclaim. The two would look into each other’s eyes, smile shyly and feel an instant connection.

   Then she would introduce herself, and Jack would shake her hand and introduce himself. And with that small conversation, a friendship would sprout, and from a friendship, perhaps something more.

   However, Jack said none of those things. He sat in silence, pretending to read his book while imagining what fun the two could have if he would just speak to her. But the more he imagined, the more scenarios popped up into his head.

   Perhaps she wasn’t like how he imagined. Perhaps she would hate him, think he was annoying if he tried to talk to her while she was reading.

   He would exclaim, “Orwell!”

   “Sorry?”

   “George Orwell, 1984.”

   The girl would raise her eyebrows in mild annoyance, but remain polite. “Yup!”

   “It’s a good one.”

   Finally, she would sigh and look at him. “Excuse me, but I’m just trying to read.” She’d put her book back up, shielding out Jack, and he’d be left slightly embarrassed, wishing he had never said anything.

   And so, Jack did exactly that: he never said anything. He went back to reading his book and left the girl in the orange dress alone.

   After a long while, when Jack was on page 40 or so, the girl’s cellphone rang. She picked it out of her pocket and read a text, laughing quietly to herself. She tapped out a quick reply, put her phone back and picked up her bag. As she stood up to leave, Jack looked up one last time, pretending that he had just remembered her existence. The girl looked back at him as well, and smiled. Not a big a smile, nor a significant smile, but a smile.

   And with that, she walked away, and in a few minutes, she was out of sight. Jack sighed. He wondered how he always got so attached to these people he met on the street, characters in a story whose names were not even revealed. It tugged at something deep in his heart, and loneliness filled his thoughts for a split moment; but after that moment, it was all gone.

   He convinced himself that people were not as interesting as he made them out to be, that each person's life story was not something he should bother to learn. Not realizing that another opportunity had just passed him by.

*******************

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Thanks for reading and alla that

title: [Romance-ish] Missed Chances (876 Words)

question: Summarize Jack's primary source of conflict.

answer: Jack wants to talk to a woman he finds attractive, but he's awkward about it. He has a great idea of what he wants to say but none of it comes out, and he instead convinces himself that he would only make some disjointed utterances. She walks off before he's said anything in the way of friendly conversation at all.

question: Explain how Jack could avoid this conflict.

answer: According to the text, Jack has played out the entire conversation in his head before he even makes a move. He has convinced himself the entire plan would go awry, and in focusing on this potential failure, he in fact does fail, because she walks away. Jack could spare himself the potential failure by saying something at all before getting in his head. However, Jack takes it a step further in ensuring his future failure in similar situation by determining that most people aren't that interesting anyway. If he didn't have this stodgy mindset-as a defense mechanism-he might feel more optimistic and open in the first place.

question: Summarize the reasons why Jack lacks confidence when it comes to striking up conversations with young women.

question: What does this story have to say about taking chances?

answer: As the story unfolds, it centers on how Jack refrains from talking to the girl. He is so focused on what to say to her that he doesn't end up speaking to her at all. Since he didn't take the chance, she ends up getting a call and walking away before he has said anything in the way of making conversation. The story is suggesting that if Jack had taken a chance, he might have had better luck than he had had.


text:
SCHETZ or SCHETZ DE GROBBENDONK, originally VON SCHETZENBERGH is a German Noble House. Most famous is the Flemish branch named Schetz, one of whose members became the first duke of Ursel.

Origins

It is believed that the origin of this family was in 13th-century Franconia, deriving from Schetzenberg or Schetzenberge.[1] It is thought that Werner von Schetzenberge (died 1273), Herr von Polant und Schezsenberge, was one of the founders.

The family moved to the Netherlands where Erasmus of Schetzenberg bought the lordship of Grobbendonk. In 1548 they were created Baron of Gobbendonk, and in 1637, by Philip IV of Spain, Count of Grobbendonk.[2]

Wealth

Because of the economic importance of this family, many historians have researched the origin of their wealth. It is believed that Claes van Rechtergem, the father in law of Erasmus II, started the economic traffic with Italy. Continued by his son-in-law, who moved to Antwerp, their commercial empire became so important that the family controlled a large part of copper production in Aachen and the sugar traffic from Brazil. He became so wealthy that he was on personal terms with the Emperor, and his sons Bathasar, Melchior and Caspar became the most popular heirs of Antwerp. They easily married into the nobility and founded the dynasty of the House of Ursel.

Marriages to the Houses of Ursel, Van Straelen en Rockox guarantueed the house considerable political power in Antwerp. Melchior was responsible for the city treasury. The youngest of the brothers paid the bill at the end. When trade declined, he was left with a debt of 750.000 Florins.[3]

The family has been Catholic for hundreds of years. [Coat of Arms] [coat of arms of the duke of Ursel] [Mosignor Schetz de Grobbendonck, bishop of Ghent, with his crest.]

Herren von Schetzenberg

Everard, HERR VON SCHETZENBERGH
,_married to Sofia von Leynach._

1.  1.  Bernard, Ritter von Schetzenbergh,
        _married to Catharina von Grondstein_.[4]

        1.  Conrad von Schetzenbergh_,
            married to Wilhelmine Sindernich._[5]
        2.  Robert von Schetz, natus 1349,
            _married to Gerardine Schintard_.

            1.  Erasmus I Schetz,
                _married to Catharine de Treglin_.

                1.  Conrad I Schetz,
                    _married to Maria Crans di Roscara_.
                    1.  Gaspard I Schetz,
                    2.  Erasmus II Schetz, died 1550: Lord of Usbach and Grobbendonk;
                        _married to Catherin de Cock van Opinen_.
                    3.  Balthazar II Schetz, Lord of Hoboken, marr. Margharethe van Straelen.

                        1.  Erasmus III Schetz, Schepen of Antwerpen, Marr. Maria of Gemert.
                        2.  Anthony I Schetz
                        3.  Maria Schetz, Lady of Eechoven.

                2.  Gerard Schetz, Lord of Terwyer.

Lords of Grobbendoncq

Erasmus II Schetz, died 1550: Lord of Usbach and Grobbendonk,
_married to Catherin de Cock van Opinen_.

1.  1.  Gaspard II Schetz, died 1580: Lord of Hoboken, Grobbendonk and Hinghene, married to Catharina d'Ursel, daughter of Lancelot II of Ursel.
        1.  Lancelot I Schetz, (1550-1619)
        2.  Nicholas Melchior Schetz,(1551-1626) : Baron of Wesemael, Lord of Heyst, married to Maria of Marnix, daughter of Jacques de Marnix,Lord of Toulouse.
        3.  Ursula Schetz, lady of Hoensbroeck, (1554-1622)
        4.  Lucrecetia Schetz, died 1627.
        5.  Catharine Schetz, baroness of Ribaucourt, (1555-1607): Married 1576 to Charles d´Aubermont, Lord of Ribaucourt, died 1621.
            1.  Gaspard Antoine d'Aubremont, Lord of Ribaucourt and Grimberghe: Married Marie Lamberta d'Enghien.

                1.  Maria Margherete d'Aubremont, marr. Don Diego Gomez, Count of Espinosa.

        6.  Anthonie II Schetz, (1564-1640): 1st Count of Grobbendonk (1637), Order of Santiago, Married in 1604 to Maria van Malsen, Lady of Tilburg.[6]

    2.  Balthasar I Schetz, (1520-1586)
    3.  Conrad II Schetz,
        _married to Maria of Brimeu_.
        1.  Julianne Schetz,
            married to Robert I Tucher'''

    4.  Melchior II Schetz(1516-1577) : tresorier of Antwerpen, Lord of Rumst, Married to Joanna van Straelen.
        1.  Anna Schetz, marr. Charles van de Werve, died 1604.

            1.  Guilliam van de Werve, died 1639: Lord of Schilde. Marr. Anne van de Werve.

    5.  Balthazar II Schetz, Lord of Hoboken, marr. Margharethe van Straelen.

Lords of Hoboken

Gaspard II Schetz

1.  1.  Conrad III Schetz, (1553–1632), later CONRAD OF URSEL:
        created 1ST BARON OF HOBOKEN, ambassador to England.
        _Married to Françoise Richardot_.
        1.  Conrad, 1st Count of Ursel, (1592-1659): 2nd Baron of Hoboken:
            _married to Anne Maria de Roble_s.

            1.  François, 2nd Count of Ursel (1626-1696): 3rd Baron of Hoboken
                _married to Honorine Maria Dorothea van Hornes_.

                1.  Conrard-Albert, 1st Duke d'Ursel, (1663-1738): 1st DUKE OF URSEL and 1st DUKE OF HOBOKEN. Married to Eleonora von Salm, 1st Duchess of Ursel.

    2.  Anthonie II Schetz: 1st Count of Grobbendonk.

Counts of Grobbendoncq

ANTHONIE II SCHETZ, 1ST COUNT OF GROBBENDONK; Order of Santiago,
_Married in 1604 to Maria van Malsen, Lady of Tilburg._

1.  1.  LANCELOT II SCHETZ, 2ND COUNT OF GROBBENDONK, Baron of Wesemael,
        _married to Marguerite-Claire de Noyelles_.
        1.  CHARLES HUBERT AUGUSTE SCHETZ, 3RD COUNT OF GROBBENDONK, Baron of Wesemael.
        2.  ANTHONY III IGNACE SCHETZ, 4TH COUNT OF GROBBENDONK,
            _married to Maria Caroline de Berghes_.

    2.  Ignace Schetz de Grobbendonk, 11th Bishop of Ghent (1679–1680).

See

-   Ursel family
-   Lord of Grobbendonk
-   Isabelle-Claire-Eugénie Schetz (died 1709), who would become abbess of La Cambre.

Books

-   Baudouin count d’URSEL, Les Schetz. La Maison de Grobbendonk, Bruxelles, 2004, 430 p. (Recueil de l’Office Généalogique et Héraldique de Belgique, LIV)
-   Les Schetz. La Maison d’Ursel, Bruxelles, 2004, 524 p. (Recueil de l’Office Généalogique et Héraldique de Belgique, LV).

[1] Grosses vollständiges Universal Lexicon aller Wissenschaften und ..., Volume 34

[2] Neues Allgemeines Deutsches Adels-Lexicon:

[3] Eric H. Wijnroks, _Handel tussen Rusland en de Nederlanden, 1560-1640_

[4] Nobiliaire des Pays-Bas et du Comté de Bourgogne: 1870

[5] Supplément aux trophées tant sacrés que profanes du duché de Brabant, Volume 1

[6]

title: Schetz

question: Why is the Schetz Noble House so well studied?

answer: The house is immensely wealthy and old.

question: What is the source of the family's wealth?

answer: Trade with Italy was started by Claes van Rechtergem and continued by his son-in-law. Their operations grew so large that they controlled a large part of copper production in Aachen and the sugar traffic from Brazil.

question: Who were the founders of the family?

answer: Werner von Schetzenberge (died 1273), Herr von Polant und Schezsenberge, is thought to be a founder.

question: How did the family obtain the Dukeship of Grobbendonk?

answer: The family moved to the Netherlands where Erasmus of Schetzenberg bought the lordship of Grobbendonk. They were declared to be a Baron, and in 1637, the Count of Grobbendonk by Philip IV of Spain.

question: Write a ~7 sentence summary.

answer: Schetz of Schetz De Grobbendonk, originally Von Schetzenbergh, is a German Noble House most famous for its Flemish branch named Schetz, one of whose members became the first Duke of Ursel. The family is thought to date back to the 13th century. The origin of their wealth is well-studied and thought to have originated from the trade with Italy started by Claes Van Rechtergem and continued by his son-in-law. The family moved to the Netherlands in the 16th century and was declared the Baron of Gobbendonk. They were promoted to Count in 1637 by Philip IV of Spain. They held enormous political power in Antwerp. Melchior was responsible for the city treasury and the youngest brother ended up paying the debt of 750,000 Florins at the end when trade with Italy declined.


text:
You wake up in the morning just like everyone else. Your alarm rings, and you think “I should have gotten more sleep last night. That was a really poor choice I made to wait until 11 to go to bed when I knew that I had to get up early in the morning for school.” You think about it for a little bit, but decide that further thought isn’t of much use. You try to shake the tired off your eyelids as you yawn and swing your legs off of your bed.

As you adorn yourself with all sorts of colorful fabric stitched together into different shapes and garments, you think about all the stuff you’re about to fill a day with. There’s school, and then maybe you’re going to talk to some friends. You have some pretty great friends. Friends named Steve, or Clarice, or maybe even Betsy. Betsy is a good friend. You’ve known her since third grade and you two have always gotten along well.

You pour some cow milk onto your corn flakes and sit down for a heaping bowl of breakfast. Your hands shuttle portions of cereal from the bowl to their demise inside your mouth. “Don’t fret, cornflakes, your anguish is not in vain.” You think. Some might say you’re a little too sympathetic towards your cereal, but it doesn’t bother you. You’re a wonderful person. “You’re giving me energy to face a grand day; you’re a terrific little cereal.”  You idly read about the cereal you’re eating on the back of the box. You see smiling people, they must be happy because they’re eating cornflakes. You think they should just be happy because they’re alive, but you finish your cornflakes and don’t have time to think about it.

You go back upstairs, to your desk. It’s a good kind of messy- the kind of messy that shows you’re too busy working on important things to keep your desk clean, but not so messy that folks think you’re an outright slob. You gather up tomes of knowledge and dump them into your backpack. You slip the straps onto your shoulders. It’s not the most comfortable arrangement, but you’re just grateful that you have a backpack full of books that are in turn full of all kinds of knowledge and facts. People always told you that knowledge is power. You just think that knowledge was knowledge, but that doesn’t keep it from being pretty wonderful.

You go to school and learn all about new things and think all sorts of new thoughts. Your English teacher is a sad old man. It seems as if he wakes up every morning and sighs out his sadness, instead of breathing in the new day. He tells your class to read three chapters in Catcher in the Rye for tomorrow and summarize them. So far you find the book deeply fascinating. It seems that Holden has a lot to complain about, but you think his life seems OK. All the kids in your class grumble at the homework that seems to accumulate without fail every day in school. You quietly write down the assignment and leave the class with everyone else.

It’s lunchtime, and you arrive a little late to the lunch line. Most folks have already gotten to the line and are waiting to buy food, but you see some friends and start talking to them. You’re talking with your friends about things you enjoy doing, like watching sports and going to the movies. You really enjoy talking to your friends, and before you know it, you’re getting your food. You don’t really like the school’s food, but you’re just glad that you get a meal every day.

After lunch is over, you go to history class. Today the teacher, a middle aged woman with plenty of gusto who really enjoys teaching her students, is teaching your class about World War 2. Some of the kids seem interested in the topic, but some of the kids just dutifully get out their spiral notebooks and dull pencils and write down some of the things the teacher says. The teacher talks about all the awful travesties committed in war with enthusiasm, but it wasn’t a strange amount of enthusiasm, just enough to show that she enjoyed her job and no more. To you, it seemed irreverent to not be sad when talking about all that death. You recall the words of Stalin, who said one death is a tragedy but a million deaths is a statistic. It was a pretty morbid saying by who you would consider to be a bad man, but it seemed to surmise your thoughts well.

School ends, and most people seem happy. You hear people talking about how the day went fast, and other people saying about how the day dragged on and on. On the way home, you ponder the duality of this statement, how a day to some can be a labored affair and for others it sails by. To you it just seems as if a day is 24 hours long. There are some things that you find confusing, but other things that you think are fairly self-explanatory. After a little while, you’re at home.

You have a glass of water. The ice you put in the water chills the water, and your hand as you hold it. It tastes good, even though water doesn’t really have a taste. You also eat some crackers, because you’re kind of hungry, but dinner isn’t for a while. The salty crackers make you thirsty, and you finish your water and put the glass in the sink. Then you take your backpack with you and go upstairs.

You once again splay the books in your backpack all over your pleasantly messy desk. You’d like to get your homework done before you relax; it always made more sense to you to get the unpleasant things in life out of way early so you didn’t have to worry about them when you were doing leisurely things. You take open the appropriate books to the relevant pages and begin learning what they had to say and writing things down in the manner various teachers suggested you do.

You work clear until dinner, and your mom calls you downstairs. Walking downstairs, you see an arrangement meticulously prepared by your mother. There are delicious meats and vegetables and all the silverware lined up like it’s supposed to be. You ask your mother what the occasion is, and she just smiles and says she was in a good mood. You and your mother and your father and your little sister sit down at the table and eat together. Your mom asks your dad about how his day was, and he says it was a hard day at the office but he got a lot done. There are a few moments of silence garnished with the sound of food being consumed, and then your father asks you how your day was. You say it was fairly typical and nice, not because you want to be dismissive of your dad, but because you can’t really think of anything interesting that happened. You share about all the things you’re learning about, about Holden Caulfield and about the Battle of the Bulge. Your parents nod with interest while chewing meat and then sipping water. You wonder how much your parents are really interested in your day, but regardless, you’re glad they asked.

After dinner, you help put the dishes into the dishwasher without being asked. Your parents thank you for your help. You pour yourself a glass of milk and take some cookies upstairs, settling into a comfortable chair and an entertaining book. You nibble on the cookies and the crumbs fall down into the creases of the book. You try to brush them out, but there comes a point where your fingers are too wide to reach the small valleys formed by the binding of book. You feel kind of bad, because this is a book you’re borrowing from the library, but not too bad.

Later in the evening, after you’ve learned all about strange fantastical lands and engaging, heroic characters in your book, you see that it’s around 9:30. This isn’t terribly late in the evening, but you figure it would be a good idea to get some more sleep after waking up so tired this morning, because you stayed out with friends last night. You say goodnight to your parents, and then to your sister, and go into your room and fold yourself into bed.

As you wait for sleep to find you and take you to a world of your subconscious, you lay still in your bed, listening to a fan you keep running back and forth to keep silence at bay. You know that some people like their room to be quiet and dark when they fall asleep, but you’ve always been bothered by little bumps and sounds far away when you’re trying to fall asleep, so you keep a fan by your bed. You think about what kind of day it’s been, and all the things you’ve done. You start to drift off to sleep with a quaint little smile on your face.

It was a pretty good day. You’re certainly not a bad person, but you don’t think too highly of yourself, and certainly don’t think of yourself explicitly as a wonderful person, but I do. I think you’re just wonderful.

title: You are a wonderful person: A whimsical short story from my heart to yours.

question: Describe the main character/narrator.

answer: The main character is a high school student who has a little sister, parents, and friends. The main character is sympathetic toward their breakfast cereal. They seem pleasant.

question: Are there any other significant characters?

answer: No.

question: What is the plot? Is there any conflict?

answer: The story is a observation of the high schooler's day. No conflicts arise.

question: What is the setting?

answer: The story takes place in the home of the main character and their school.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: The main character is a high school student who has a little sister, parents, and friends. The main character is sympathetic toward their breakfast cereal. They seem pleasant with a very positive attitude. The story is a observation of the high schooler's day. The main character wakes in the morning, eats breakfast, goes to school, returns home, does homework, eats dinner with their family, reads a book, and goes to bed.


text: Okay so there was this kid,lets name him Timmy. He's in kindergarten and there's this 1st grader,lets name him Tyler, that always picks on him and beats him up. Well one day Tyler throws him down and little Timmy's glasses fall and shatter on the asphalt.. Little Timmy knew he couldn't take him on alone so he went around and gathered 5 of his friends and they waited until they saw Tyler go inside to go to the bathroom and then they followed when they got in there he turned around trash talking them and they just looked at each other and then...Little Timmy gave the signal and they all just tackled him to the ground and started biting,punching,kicking, and pinching and they finally stopped after 15 minutes of the beating and then from then on Tyler never touched Little Timmy again...

title: Little Timmy's Revenge..

question: What is the relationship between Tyler and Little Timmy?

answer: The relationship between Tyler and Little Timmy is one of cautiousness, as they are friends but they fight a lot. They are also very young children.

question: What made Tyler never touch Little Timmy again?

answer: Tyler never wanted to touch Little Timmy again because of the constant biting, punching, kicking, and pinching that kept happening between them.


text:
Story highlights

-   Strangers from around the world are sending holiday cards to 6-year-old Addie Fausett
-   Her family wanted a lifetime of cards for her after a gloomy prognosis
-   Addie's condition is undiagnosed, but cerebral atrophy is one of the symptoms

By sheer volume, one might assume that letters for Santa Claus were accidentally rerouted to P.O. Box 162 in Fountain Green, Utah. But all the letters, notes and cards coming in are addressed to 6-year-old Addie Fausett.

"Thank you for my cards," Addie told a postal worker on a recent trip to pick up her bounty of seasons greetings. In the small town of just more than 1,000 residents, her letters have outnumbered the population.

Addie made the mailing lists of thousands of strangers around the world after her family asked the public to give her a lifetime of Christmas cards after a gloomy prognosis: A mysterious condition will probably cut her young life short, doctors have told the family.

This year, the Fausetts were told this would probably be Addie's last Christmas. Although her condition remains undiagnosed, she suffers from cerebral atrophy, which has severely affected her speech and motor skills. According to her mother, at age 3, Addie just stopped growing; at 6, she weighs only 23 pounds.

"She likes to laugh and have a good time and hear stories, but lately she has had a lot of days she will just cry all day long," Tami Fausett, Addie's mother, told CNN affiliate KSL.

As the handwritten letters pour in, Addie's family hopes they will spark a little Christmas cheer during the tough times. They've created the Facebook page for "Little Addie" to update followers with pictures of Addie opening letters and celebrating Christmas.

"She doesn't get to play with kids, so we thought if everyone sent her a card, we could tell all her they were all her friends, and it would just help make her Christmas a little bit better," Fausett said.

Amber Brosig, managing trustee of the charity Children and the Earth, said Addie's family never fathomed such an amazing response with the letters. The charity has been helping the family with medical costs.

Addie is appreciative of the kind words that have been flooding in, and she had a message for KSL's camera: "Merry Christmas."

"There's no other way to describe her other than she's an absolute sweet soul," Brosig told CNN.

question: What lesson can be learned from this article?

answer: There are a lot of good and kind-hearted people in the world willing to give joy and happiness to a sick child.

question: Why did the family ask for Christmas cards instead of birthday cards or any other type of greeting card?

answer: The doctors diagnosed that this could be Addie's last Christmas. Because of Addie's condition, she can't play with the kids outside, so her family tells her all the cards are from her friends and it would make her Christmas a little better.


text:
LORRAINE PETER, (née NETRO; May 24, 1956) is a Canadian politician.[1] She represented the electoral district of Vuntut Gwitchin in the Yukon Legislative Assembly from 2000 to 2006. She was a member of the Yukon New Democratic Party.[2]

She originally ran for election under her maiden name, but married during her first year in office and used her married name, Peter, for the remainder of her political career.

Political career

Peter was first elected in the 2000 Yukon election in the Old Crow riding of Vuntut Gwitchin on behalf of the New Democrats. She succeeded former New Democrat MLA and Speaker of the Yukon Legislative Assembly, Robert Bruce. The New Democrat government was defeated in that campaign and Peter joined the Official Opposition.

In 2002, Peter was re-elected in Vuntut Gwitchin. During the 31st Legislative Assembly, Peter served as Official Opposition critic for the Departments of Environment and Justice, the Women's Directorate, and for First Nations issues. She was also Caucus Chair.[3]

Peter was defeated by Yukon Liberal Darius Elias in the 2006 Yukon election. It was the first time the Liberals had won the riding of Vuntut Gwitchin.

Personal life

A Gwich'in from Old Crow, Peter later served as a councillor and Deputy Chief of the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation after leaving territorial politics.[4] She is also a former member of the Board of Directors of Gwich'in Council International, a permanent participant of the Arctic Council.[5]

Electoral record

2006 general election

|- | style=“width: 130px” |Liberal |DARIUS ELIAS |align=“right”|65 |align=“right”|45.8% |align=“right”|+22.0% |NDP |Lorraine Peter |align=“right”|40 |align=“right”|28.2% |align=“right”|-19.3% |- bgcolor=“white” !align=“left” colspan=3|Total !align=“right”|142 !align=“right”|100.0% !align=“right”| –

2002 general election

|- |NDP |LORRAINE PETER |align=“right”|68 |align=“right”|47.5% |align=“right”|+9.8% | style=“width: 130px” |Liberal |Joe Tetlichi |align=“right”|34 |align=“right”|23.8% |align=“right”|-9.5% |- bgcolor=“white” !align=“left” colspan=3|Total !align=“right”|143 !align=“right”|100.0% !align=“right”| –

2000 general election

|- |NDP |LORRAINE NETRO |align=“right”|69 |align=“right”|37.7% |align=“right”|-17.3% | style=“width: 130px” |Liberal |Esau Schafer |align=“right”|61 |align=“right”|33.3% |align=“right”| +33.3% |- bgcolor=“white” !align=“left” colspan=3|Total !align=“right”|183 !align=“right”|100.0% !align=“right”| –

[1] 1

[2] Yukon Votes 2006: Vuntut Gwitchin. cbc.ca.

[3] Legislative Reports (Yukon) _Canadian Parliamentary Review_ (vol. 26, no.1), 2003.

[4] Vuntut Gwitchin chief to call it quits Yukon News (Roxanne Stasyszyn), Friday December 2, 2011. Retrieved April 2, 2017.

[5] GCI Board of Directors.

title: Lorraine Peter

question: What does the article say about Canadian national elections?

question: What does the article say about Lorraine Peter's political contemporaries?

answer: She's a member of the New Democrats and served in the Official Opposition after her party was defeated in the 2000 elections. She succeeded former New Democrat Robert Bruce. She was reelected in 2002 and served until 2006 as Official Opposition critic for the Departments of Environment and Justice, the Women's Directorate, and for First Nations issues. She was defeated by Yukon Liberal Darius Elias with the Liberals' first victory ever in Vuntut Gwitchin.


text:
“Where am I? Who are these people around me?” I thought to myself when I first woke up. I slowly lifted myself up and rubbed my eyes thoroughly as if there was something in them, but nothing was. I looked over; a lady kindly greeted me and handed me a folder. As soon as the folder was within my possession I knew what must be done; it was pure instinct. I immediately opened it up and read all of the information.

     I remembered that my name was Bob Lamron. I am 23 years old, have neither children nor a wife; they were only given to you if you had proven yourself faithful and intelligent enough. I asked the women who handed me the folder where I was and what events had occurred that left me in this situation. She just looked at me and smiled.

     Two rather large males, who appeared to be body guards disguised as physicians, led me out the front door. As soon as I walked out, a car appeared out of nowhere. From the car came a robotic voice; it addressed me by name and commanded me to enter the automobile. As I got in the car, the voice spoke again. It asked me what my home address was. I had no clue; I could not even remember if I had children 10 minutes ago. How was I supposed to answer the voice with details of my forget life? The women who had presented me with the folder, a nurse, that I had woken up next to, ran out of the building and handed me the same folder that I had left behind in the room. I opened it up and aloud, “2534 Egareva Rd.” As soon as the words had left my mouth, the taxi immediately sped off, presumably to the address.

      As I saw the things I passed by I started to remember details, like I had never forgotten them at all. Trees, Birds, people, restaurants, fountains, everything! It was all flooding in as if there was a dam in my brain and it had just been ruptured without notice. We arrived at my house and I opened the front door. I walked into my room and sat down. I could not recall the events that had occurred before I woke up. It was like the dam of knowledge in my mind had been concealed.

     My mind had locked away any memories of the events and I could not do anything about it. The more I thought, the more my head hurt.
It felt like one of those moments when you are mid conversation with someone and another person, uninvolved in the conversation, calls your name. You stop talking in order to address the interjection of your name, but when you try to come back into the original conversation, you can’t remember what you were talking about no matter how hard you try. I sat there on my couch and tried as hard as I could to recall what had happened.

     I then positioned myself so that I could see out of the window. I saw a grey, bleak world. Everything was so average, so normal. The only color people were given permission to wear were different shades of grey. The lighter your color, the higher up your social class was. I was just an average grey.

     As I was thinking through all of this, my eyes were fixed upon a section of peeling paint in the right corner of my peripheral vision. For some reason I knew I was supposed to go over to it; it was like I had some kind of cosmic urge. My hand lifted from my side and I started to peel the paint. It came off fairly easily, far too easier than any paint should have, for that matter. Suddenly, I saw something concealed under the peeling paint. I knew I had to uncover it. As I tore the paint off a fit overcame me. Next thing I knew, I was tearing, ripping, and enjoying this more than anything I had enjoyed before. I was ripping everything in sight off the wall.

     I stepped back and looked at my wall and there was writing everywhere. The memories started flooding back into my head of what had happened. I had uncovered something big. The government had been spiking everyone. Now they wouldn’t just bug a room, or a camera in a park to see what was going on, they were putting microphones in you. They had put chips in your brain so that they could see, think, hear, and smell everything you have ever come in contact with. Knowing I had just remembered this I knew they would be after me. I shut the blinds and closed the door in my room.

     I lightly lifted a blind cover and looked out the window. I saw a slim, black, shiny car pulled up to the front of my building. The same two men who had accompanied me out of the hospital got out of the black car. I sat there shaking, wondering what I could do. The second I saw them barge in through the front door, I jumped out of my second story bedroom and landed on the pavement. My ankle buckled and I felt a sharp pain but I knew I had to get out of here and tell someone what is going on. I screamed names but no one would listen to me. I was living in a selfish world where people only cared about themselves. I gave up. I fell to the floor, my ankle throbbing, and looked at the door to my building, expecting the two men to walk through. I was doomed.

     The two men eventually came out of my building and grabbed me. They didn’t say a word; all they would do is stare straight forward. Then they put me in the back of the car and drove off. It was the exact same route that led back to my house. I had only been out for an hour, at most and here I was, being dragged back.

     When I got there the female nurse was sitting there with a needle filled with what appeared to be a sedative. As she inserted it in my vein, two doctors walked into the room. The first said, “Okay, begin sedation and we’ll get ready for the micro-chip reset.”
The other doctor responded, “Looks like this one didn’t turn out to well again like the last time.”

	As they finished their sentences I realized something. They have been resetting everyone until they get every single one of us to be perfect for their society. They don’t want people to have character or personality; they are just looking to create the most generic human being, like emotionless robots. As I thought this, I started to black out.

     “Where am I? Who are these people around me?” I thought to myself when I first woke up. I slowly lifted myself up and rubbed my eyes thoroughly as if there was something in them, but nothing was. I looked over; a lady kindly greeted me and handed me a folder.

title: Deja Vu

question: What happened to the narrator when they first woke up?

answer: He could not remember a single thing from his own life.

question: How was Bob Lamron (narrator) able to remember his name and age?

answer: A folder with all of his information was handed to him by a nurse.

question: Explain how Bob was able to recover his memories.

answer: He looked at his wall and there were writings everywhere.

question: Summarize what Bob uncovered.

answer: The government had been spiking everyone and inserting chips into people's brain's resetting everyone into emotionless robots.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Bob Lamron (narrator) wakes up without remembering a single thing about his own life. He is handed a folder with all of his information and when he gets home, the writings on the wall help him recover his memories. He uncovers that the government has been inserting chips into people's brains and resetting them into emotionless robots.


text:
I don't remember the first time I met her, but it was in some kind of abstract kind of way. The colours around us were always loose and steady, mad colours that no one had ever heard of or seen.
Connie and I were both mad you see. We were both seeing psychiatrists, both once a week.

'How have you been the past week? The psychiatrist would say

'Not bad' I would always say. I would very rarely say how bad I'd been feeling.

'And what have you been up to?'

'Nothing much'

'Shall we go over what we talked about last week?'

'Yes, if you want'

Sometimes talking about things made everything worse, a lot of the time I'd come out feeling more depressed than before I came in.
It would go much the same for Connie except she would be much more honest about things.

'Have you been up to much over the past week'

'Yes, a lot' Connie would say 'I've fucked two men since I last saw you'. And the
Psychiatrist's face would be in a kind of shock for a while.

'And anything else?'

'Yes, I've also fucked two women.'

'Oh, my. All that in the last week'

'Yes'

Connie and I spoke nearly every day. We'd fall out quite often and it was usually over something that I did. Mostly not turning up to places that I'd say I was turning up to. Her brother was an alcoholic and I knew him through a friend who he lived in a flat with and he was managing the band I was in at the time. He promised us fame and glory but in the end he turned out to be liar.
Connie's parents were nice people. Her mother was an English teacher and her father was a blues musician.
When I was a gigging musician her father played with us and helped with gigs. He is a very fine musician. The last time I spoke to him he asked If I was still playing music and still with the band?

'No, not anymore' I said

'Why not?

'Musical differences'

'Yes, that happens a lot.'

It was my birthday and Connie was putting on a birthday party for me at her home. She had two kids and a now a dog. Which was a beagle named Gatsby. The first time I met Gatsby I knocked on Connie's front door and she opened it and Gatsby ran out into the road while a car was coming and I ran out into the road and saved him. He tried to bite me after it all. But after that all he does is lick me and give me affection.

The birthday party was on a Saturday. It was originally meant to be on a Monday, then a Tuesday, then a Friday and finally we settled on a Saturday. The reason for all this being a certain person could only make it on a Saturday. Her name was Caitlin and she was a beauty.
She had long dark hair and a body that danced beneath the tide. Connie and Caitlin didn't get on and Connie didn't really want Caitlin at the party but she said it was OK as it's my Birthday.
Connie thought Caitlin was jealous of her because She spent so much time with me and Caitlin was in love with me and she couldn't handle it.

'She's in deep with you, you know' Connie said

'No, she's not'

'Yes, she is. She fucking wants your babies!'

'Oh, God please. Don't be silly'

Connie was on the brink on being an alcoholic and she would say the same of me. I bought mostly whiskey for the birthday party and two crates of beer. We both drank a lot and some would say too much.
There were a few more people attending the party. Mostly girls and one boy and in the end he never turned up.
I arrived at the party at 6 in the evening. It was a sunny day with a slight wind blowing in the distance. It felt soothing on your face. There was only one other person who was there at that time, her name was lotte.

'Hello' she said

'Hey, how long have you been here?' I asked

'Oh, not long. About 20 minutes'

'I see. And what you drinking then?'

'Cider. What about you?'

'Whiskey and beer'

'Manly drinks then'

Yes, I suppose you could say that.'

Connie was busy with her kids. Giving them their supper and getting the younger one ready for bed.
I sat in a chair silently looking around the room. The TV was on. It was some children's programme.
I had my eye on a fly flying about. It flew on the window and then the curtain and then finally landed on the TV which is where it stayed for the remainder of the night. I was waiting on Caitlin mostly. I was looking forward to seeing her.

'When is Caitlin getting here?' Connie asked

'She said 8 o clock to me'

'What time is it now?'

'7:15'. I'm meeting her at the bus station at 8'

Nothing much happened in the next 45 minutes apart from some very small small talk. By then I had had about 3 bottles of beer and Lotte had drank half a bottle of cider and Connie was already drunk.

'I'm off to meet Caitlin' I said

I arrived at the bus stop on time and Caitlin had not yet arrived. It was now rather cold and the sun had gone into hiding. The breeze was cold against my face. Not long the moon was about to make an appearance. I looked up to the sky thinking about things and I felt an empty feeling inside me. I don't know why but my heart heard the dancing of the soul and could not dance to the same rhythm and I felt lost.
It was now 8:25 and Caitlin had not yet arrived. I tried to ring her and there was no answer. I looked up at the sky some more and pondered the world and after pondering the world for another 35 minutes and I gave up and went back to Connie's.

'Where's Caitlin?' Connie asked

'Don't think she's turning up'

'I'm rather glad really'

'Yes. We shall drink the wine I bought for her'

We opened the bottle of wine and drank it from the bottle.

'We're all mad here, you know' said Connie

'What do you mean? I asked

'Lotte is one of us'

'Oh, is she?'

'Yes, she is'

And Lotte smiled splendidly at the situation and became drunk rather quickly. We went into the garden as it turned dark and laughed at the stars while sitting down in the long grass.

'Yes, we're all mad here' we all said

The party was a boring one and we were all home by midnight.

title: A birthday party

question: What did Connie tell the psychiatrist?

answer: That she fucked two men and two women that week.

question: Is the narrator honest with the psychiatrist?

answer: No, he rarely tells her how bad he feels.

question: What is Connie's dog's name?

answer: Gatsby

question: Who was the special guest who could only arrive to the birthday party on Saturday?

answer: Caitlin.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator and Connie are friends who call themselves mad, and both see psychiatrists weekly. The narrator is dishonest with his psychiatrist, while Connie is brutally honest with hers. On the narrator's birthday, he wants especially for a beautiful girl named Caitlin to show up, who Connie doesn't like because she says Caitlin is in love with him and she's jealous of the time Connie spends with him. Caitlin never shows to the party, and Connie says that Lotte is "one of us" meaning she's mad too.


text:
For months you have held this family captive.  It started out so innocently. Barely knew you were there. But over the last few months, no one is denying your existence anymore. Sure, my wife said you were a bit mean when she first thought you were around. No worries, normal stuff, nothing to get upset over, right? Maybe she was even making some of it up? But those first signs of abuse should have been a key indication of what was to come.

Everyday I’d go to work thinking things were fine. She would give me reassurances that she was tip top, and nothing was the matter. I’d tell my co-workers what was going on, only to receive laughs and smiles. “Is this the proper reaction to a hostage situation?” I think back wondering how it got this way so fast.

Months pass and things seemed to be escalating. She would inform me of pains, and problems. I would ask her if there was anything I could do to help. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all normal,” brushing my attempts at assistance away. “Not a whole lot you can do,” would be the rebuttal. Feeling powerless in these situations, anxiety can turn to worry. Sometimes daydreams to be released from this captor play out in my mind, wanting for some kind of way to change the predicament for the best, with as little consequence as possible. These thoughts and schemes are a constant plague on my reality.

More time passes. We learn more about you, your name for a start. Funny how we could all go so long without knowing what to call you, but understanding between captor and hostage takes time doesn’t it. I guess now we can have a proper dialogue. You don’t really say much, but we are well aware of your intentions. We know what you have in store for us, more so what you have in store for my wife. It scares her tremendously, but she carries on. Strong enough to withstand what pain you put her through. Again I wish for some way to help her through this, to stand in and take some of that pain for her. But I am not your target, she is.

Your demands are starting to take their toll. I try and contemplate what help I could get, who I could contact. But we are so far gone at this point, there really isn’t much anyone can do. Long before now, we would stop anyone trying to intervene. Yes, we are both so attached to you, o captor, we would fight tooth and nail for your safety, despite what pain you cause.

The day comes that one of your attacks is too much. She is in so much pain. Bodily fluids have been spilt. She needs medical attention. As we all proceed to the hospital, thoughts run through my mind. “It’s almost over. The opportunity is here. We’re getting out of this.” Neither one of us leave her side. This relationship has turned very different, but no one is paying any attention. It takes many hours, but she if finally calm and stable. Things are quiet, and she is sleeping.

As I finally take this chance to have a face-to-face with you properly, I hold you close. “Damn son, your brother didn’t screw with us this much.” I give you a kiss, and lay you back in your crib. We get to take you home tomorrow. Suddenly I realize you and your brother will be holding us hostage for the next 18-20 years. But that is ok, I’m going to love every minute of it.

The End

title: Hostage situation

question: What sort of abuse did the wife put on her husband?

answer: The wife put on psychological and emotional abuse on her husband.

question: How badly is the wife in pain?

answer: The wife is suffering from chronic pain, and is very very sick, resulting in her condition worsening every day and bringing an emotional toll on the husband.

question: Who is holding the family hostage?

answer: The children of the husband and wife will be holding them hostage for the next 18-20 years.

question: Why did the husband feel so powerless seeing his wife in her condition?

answer: The husband felt so powerless seeing his wife in that position because there really wasn't much that he could do and to see his wife in pain every day made him feel very helpless.


text: The drums sound, *Thump Thump Thump* three steps, *Thump Thump Thump* another three. You snap back to reality from your day dream and re-adjust your helm. Suddenly a loud roar is heard,*"COMPANY, AT THE FAST TIME, MARCH!"* Reacting instantly you start stepping more quickly, lifting your shield a bit higher so the few weeds not trampled by the march of thousands do not drag on it. You grip your spear a bit harder as you feel you handle on the weapon to be a bit wet, from the heat perhaps. Then again, just a suddenly *"COMPANY, DOUBLE TIME, MARCH!"* You start a light jog now with a ridge about 20 meters in front of you, flowing with weeds, flowers, bushes and other assorted under-brush. You feel a slight anticipation as you start to ascend the ridge, fearing and wanting what lies beyond. Finally after what seems like an eternity to crest the ridge, and gasp as you jog forward at the sight before you, thousands of thousands of men. Then you notice something that seemed like a buzz in the back of your mind for all of this, the sound. You hear screaming, war-cry, and steel to your left, where your line has already charged forward. Then to your right is the steady beat of a multitude of men, all marching in union. Behind you you hear your brothers jog with you, with the rattle of equipment and the scrape of leather. Now the enemy seems so much closer, so much more dangerous, so much more **real**, but you go on, tis your duty. Then as suddenly as the first two you hear, *"COMPANY, PREPARE TO CHARGE!"* You shift your spear forward, your body and all those around you now in the prefect position to sprint forward the last few meters to the enemy, the perfect image of man at his finest and at his worst. Breaking this dam of tension blast a loud long horn. Then screaming with your brother behind your back you charge, running with all your might towards that hated foe in front of you, you spear parallel to the ground ready to impale that piece of flesh that dare get in your way. The enemy is a 10 meters.......5...4...3..2.1, then *SMASH*...............................

title: Advance

question: Why was the narrator gripping the spear so hard?

answer: The handle of the weapon was a bit wet.


text:
The sand was warm beneath his feet as Kylar was lead out onto the floor of the arena. The crowd was deafening; raining down disapproval, admiration, and anticipation as the guards pushed him out towards the center of the grounds. Kylar stretched his neck as he took in the details of the scene: the blood from the previous fight drying in the warmth of the Sandoverian Summer, the smell of thousands of unwashed bodies pressed together in an orgy of sweat, and sex, and ale.

The manacles around his wrists bound his arms behind his back, and he was forced to his knees in the center of the arena. Kylar tossed a lazy smile to the guard who had been handling him.

"I will be looking for you when this is over, Bruno; to return your peerless hospitality."

Bruno just uttered a low grunt, resonating deeply within his massive chest. He was easily twice Kylar's size, and each muscle in his powerful body rippled with barely-contained aggression as he moved.

The Crown Prince of Sandoveria's voice echoed across the arena as the crowd fell silent.

"You are found guilty of crimes against the crown. Theft, piracy, the deaths of over 100 notable citizens of Sandoveria, among others I am sure, and the kidnapping, rape, and murder of my sister; the Crown Princess Oliviana. Have you anything left to say for yourself before your sentence is carried out?"

"My only regret is that I didn't get to burn you with that fucking witch, Darrien. But rest assured, I will have your head soon enough for what you have done to us."

Kylar spat upon the sand just before Bruno's mailed gauntlet cracked into the side of his head, sending him sprawling and setting stars swimming about his vision.

Darrien's face grew red with anger as he seethed; the veins in his temples throbbing visibly even from such a distance.

"Then you are hereby sentenced to death. Lord Warren, betrothed of my sweet sister has agreed to carry out your sentence in a trial by combat."

The crowd exploded again as the ornate gates below the Royal Box opened, and Lord Warren strode onto the sands, resplendent in his shining armor, each plate reflecting the midday sun. He drew his sword and spun around for the crowd, enjoying their affections as his long purple cape danced in the breeze that kissed the sands.

Kylar got to his feet, but it was clear that he was going to have to fight hands bound, unarmed and unprotected. Good. Maybe this way it would be a bit of a challenge. Warren closed the distance between them quickly, his arm already drawn back for the first strike.

"I will kill you in the name of Lady Oli-"

Kylar ducked just as the sword passed where his head had been only a fraction of a second before, braced himself, and drove forward with all his might, smashing the top of his head into Lord Warren's unprotected face. Blood erupted from his nose as he fell backwards from the weight of the blow. Kylar seized his chance and leapt forward onto Warren's breastplate as he fell, slamming him into the loosely packed sand. The fight ended when Kylar drew his knee up to his chest, and stomped directly onto the once handsome face of Lord Warren. He was dead before the dust had even begun to settle.

A wave of sound burst from the crowd, a writhing mixture of hate and awe. And Kylar's eyes met with the Prince's just in time for the realization to set in. He flashed a triumphant grin, and cracked his neck again.

"Guards! Destroy him!" Spittle flew from Darrien’s lips in a rather un-princely manner as he bellowed and soon all of the portcullises had been raised, and guardsmen were streaming out on to the sands.

Kylar hooked a foot behind him and up into his manacles, driving his shoulders forward as he kicked towards the earth; both of his shoulders dislocated with a loud pop. Wincing as he stepped his feet back through the newly widened space to get his hands in front of him, Kylar popped his shoulders back in to place with a shrug; contortion was one of the many skills honed by the eastern assassins to escape captivity. As he picked up Lord Warren's blade and tested its balance he looked into the eyes of the warily approaching guards. Only Bruno's eyes weren't glazed with fear and trepidation.

They would be soon enough.

title: [FN] The Escape

question: Why is Kylar on trial?

answer: Kylar is put on trial for crimes against the crown. He is found guilty of theft, piracy, mass murder, and the kidnapping, rape, and murder of the Crown Princess of Sandoveria. When the Crown Prince asks if he has anything to say, Kylar only expresses remorse that he couldn't kill the prince as well as his sister.

question: What does the text say about Oliviana's father?

question: Summarize Bruno's role in the story.

answer: Bruno is a guard who takes orders from the Crown Prince of Sandoveria. He leads the criminal Kylar into the arena for trial. He doesn't flinch when Kylar threatens him, and doesn't hesitate to hit Kylar across the head with his gauntlet when Kylar insults the prince. He is the only one of the guards not to show wariness when Kylar attempts to escape by killing a Lord and dislocating his own shoulders.

question: What does the text say about the kingdom's navy?


text:
[]
An example of genjutsu being used.

GENJUTSU (幻術, _literally meaning:_ Illusionary Techniques) is one of the main jutsu categories which uses chakra. Unlike ninjutsu, the effects of genjutsu are not real, being only sensory illusions experienced by those who fall victim to it. According to the Second Mizukage, genjutsu falls under the broad category of Yin Release.[1]

-   1 Overview
-   2 Countering
-   3 See Also
-   4 Trivia
-   5 References

Overview

A genjutsu is created when a ninja controls the chakra flow of a target's cerebral nervous system, thereby affecting their five senses; this is frequently used to create false images and/or trick the body into believing its has experienced physical pain. It is further explained in the anime that, because genjutsu affects activity throughout the prosencephalon structure of the brain, humans, dogs and other species of mammal are therefore all affected by genjutsu; however, the kikaichū, like all insects, lack such a structure to their brains, and so do not even notice it: as Shino Aburame put it, insects are ruled almost solely by their senses alone, which makes them immune to genjutsu and gives the Aburame clan an ability to detect it, even when heightened senses become susceptible.[2]

Genjutsu can also be used to manipulate others - similar to brainwashing - by feeding the victim illusive suggestions. Methods include integration with nature transformation, as shown with Water and Lightning Release, and in the anime, ingesting special pills that activate when the target sleeps.[3] Audible genjutsu is deemed the most dangerous because the user can trap victims from long distances.[4]

Despite its usefulness, genjutsu is rarely employed, most shinobi preferring the real, tangible effects of ninjutsu and taijutsu over the imagined effects of genjutsu which hold little influence over the physical world. The difficulty of performing genjutsu in the first place presents an additional barrier to its use: genjutsu require precise chakra control in order to manipulate the target's senses and advanced intelligence to make the illusion convincing,[5] prerequisites that even someone as skilled as Jiraiya lacks.[6] Some, however, are able to specialise in genjutsu, with Kurenai Yūhi being regarded as one of Konoha's experts in the field and members of the Uchiha clan being particularly feared because of their Sharingan's generic genjutsu. According to Hagoromo, the Byakugan can also be used to extend the range of genjutsu.

Those under the influence of genjutsu will either appear to be unconscious or continue to move around under the pretence of the genjutsu. The latter is very effective in battle as a genjutsu user can make themselves appear to be somewhere else and attack the victim from behind or change the environment to make the victim see a flat plain where there is a steep cliff. Alternatively, a genjutsu user can create relatively small differences in the environment, which is more effective for intel gathering. For example, Itachi Uchiha was known to cast a genjutsu upon meeting someone, and that person's reaction to Itachi's image in the genjutsu would help him understand them better while keeping himself safe.

Countering

There are several options to combat genjutsu:

-   A victim's chakra flow, if disrupted enough, can break the caster's influence. This "Genjutsu Dissipation" (幻術解, _Genjutsu Kai_, _literally meaning:_ Illusion Technique Dissipation) or "Genjutsu Reversal" (幻術返し, _Genjutsu Gaeshi_, _literally meaning:_ Illusion Technique Reversal)[7] can be done by the victim themselves, (assuming they realise they're under a genjutsu's influence) or an ally who emits chakra into them;[8] jinchūriki who have formed a good relationship with their tailed beast prefer the latter method whenever they need it.[9]
-   Pain that is not caused by the genjutsu can bring victims back to their senses.[10]
-   If a caster's vision is obstructed, such as by the Hiding in Mist Technique, that at least prevents the use of ocular genjutsu.[11]
-   Possessing a Sharingan renders one largely invulnerable to genjutsu as their acute vision allows them to recognise its flaws and influence. They can also free others from genjutsu by inserting themselves into the opponent's illusion and release it.[12]
-   Deidara is somehow able to condition his left eye to break genjutsu.[13]
-   In the anime, kikaichū are impervious to genjutsu because their brain structures aren't sophisticated enough, allowing members of the Aburame clan a method to identify and counter genjutsu.[14]
-   In the anime, strong smells, such as those from Chilli Pepper Bombs, can counteract genjutsu.[15]
-   In the anime, Kabuto Yakushi attempted to use his own genjutsu on himself in order to override the one Itachi Uchiha placed on him, though due to the complex nature, it failed.[16]

See Also

-   List of genjutsu

Trivia

-   Izanagi has the opposite effects to normal genjutsu, changing reality to illusion and vice versa.
-   Obito Uchiha had been able to completely control Yagura Karatachi with a genjutsu, despite the latter being a perfect jinchūriki.[17]
-   In the anime, genjutsu even works on Mecha-Naruto, corrupting its internal system.[18]
-   Because genjutsu are not real, they are not supposed to be able to kill victims. However, Izumi Uchiha is killed with Tsukuyomi in _Itachi Shinden: Book of Dark Night_.
    -   In the anime, due to the Kurama Clan's kekkei genkai, certain members can use their exceptional talent for genjutsu to make the brain to believe the illusions are physically real, which can cause the victim to be potentially killed.
-   Itachi claimed that his Tsukuyomi can only be broken by a Sharingan user who shares the same blood with him.[19]

References

1.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 548, page 18
2.

    ↑ _Naruto_ episode 206
3.

    ↑ _Naruto: Shippūden_ episode 318
4.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 214, pages 13-14
5.

    ↑ Second Databook, page 163
6.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 378, page 6
7.

    ↑ _Naruto Shippūden_ episode 484
8.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 259, pages 8-10
9.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 413, page 15
10.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 345, pages 8-9
11.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 26, page 13
12.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 585, page 13
13.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 360, page 17
14.

    ↑ _Naruto_ episode 206
15.

    ↑ _Naruto: Shippūden_ episode 187
16.

    ↑ _Naruto Shippūden_ episode 337
17.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 507, pages 12-15
18.

    ↑ _Naruto: Shippūden_ episode 377
19.

    ↑ _Naruto_ chapter 142, page 15

question: What species are affected by genjutsu?

answer: Those that have the prosencephalon structure of the brain.

question: Why is genjutsu rarely used?

answer: Because shinobi preferring the real, tangible effects of ninjutsu and taijutsu and because it is not easy to use.

question: Are people aware when they are genjutsu victims?

answer: They may be aware but do not have to.

question: Is genjutsu dangerous?

answer: It is not real but seems it can be dangerous.


text:
It seems some bureaucrats in the Trump administration didn’t get the memo about scientific, evidence-based regulation being good for innovation, the economy, the environment and public health.

FDA Commissioner Dr. Scott Gottlieb has doubled down on his agency’s failed policy for regulating an entire sector of biotechnology — the production of genetically engineered animals.

In a May speech, he embraced the Obama administration’s proposed expansion of the agency’s ill-conceived, 2009 policy for the regulation of such animals — to include the use of the most innovative, precise and predictable gene editing techniques such as CRISPR-Cas9.

Genetically modified animals have the potential to benefit consumers and the environment; they grow faster, produce more environmentally friendly food, less toxic waste and have many other traits attractive to consumers.

Not only that, but modern genetic engineering techniques offer a more efficient and cost-effective way to improve the characteristics of animals when compared to traditional trial and error breeding, which is less able to effect predictable, stable and desired traits.

In a 2009 guidance document, FDA announced that the tiny snippet of introduced DNA used in the molecular genetic engineering of an animal would be considered a “new animal drug,” and therefore require the animal to be reviewed as such under the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic (FD&C) Act — even if it was intended to be used neither as food nor as a source of a drug.

The Act requires that new animal drugs be both safe and effective before they can be approved for marketing. Therefore, the animal must undergo onerous government review and approval by the FDA’s Center for Veterinary Medicine, the same as veterinary drugs such as an antibiotic or pain reliever. The FDA, however, had never before evaluated, for example, a new variety of pig with novel traits introduced by traditional breeding.

The legal basis for the 2009 guidance is dubious. There is no hint anywhere in the FD&C Act that animals could be, in effect, regulated as a drug. Nor is such an interpretation necessary for the safe consumption of genetically engineered animals.

Thus, FDA’s 2009 guidance and its proposed expansion are based on regulatory opportunism rather than scientific or regulatory principles. In fact, for millennia farm animals and others have undergone continual genetic modification, mostly by laborious and imprecise trial-and-error breeding. For example, the dozens of varieties of cattle raised today are all derived from the now-extinct auroch, which was used both for food and as a beast of burden from ancient times until the 17th century.

A relatively recent (20th century) new food animal, the “beefalo,” a cow–bison (buffalo) hybrid, combines the superior hardiness, foraging ability, calving ease, and low-fat meat of the bison with the fertility, milking ability, and convenient handling of the cow.

None of these innovations has been intensively evaluated by regulators. And not only have all these imprecise genetic modifications not been associated with significant risks but they have markedly increased ranchers’ productivity and societies’ food security.

In seeking to regulate the newest, state-of-the-art techniques, Dr. Gottlieb warned stakeholders against challenging his demand that human gene therapy and genetically engineered animals be regulated similarly because both involve the same technologies:

  [G]roups should be mindful that if they lobby for an exception when it comes to gene editing on the animal drug side of our house, it will inevitably undermine our regulation of these same technologies when it comes to human drugs…And if we create these dubious distinctions [between human gene therapy and animal genetic engineering], there’s a big risk that we erode confidence in these promising technologies before they have the opportunity to have their full impact on public health.

That rationale is a non-sequitur, like saying that FDA would be obligated to regulate a red food-color additive in the same way as the same dye used on a food box label because the “technology” is the same.

Instead of the 2009 guidance and Dr. Gottlieb’s just-announced plan for even more burdensome regulation of genetically engineered animals, FDA could adopt the more appropriate and less burdensome approach to food taken by another FDA component, the Center for Food Safety and Nutrition.

For certain products — “food additives,” such as preservatives, antioxidants, coloring agents and emulsifiers used to preserve or add flavor, color, or texture to food— the FDA requires premarket clearance. Otherwise, the law places the burden of ensuring the safety of foods and food ingredients on those who produce them by prohibiting the adulteration (contamination) or misbranding (mislabeling) of food — but it does not require the evaluation or inspection of all food before its sale in shops, supermarkets, or restaurants.

Rather, FDA oversight relies on market surveillance or post-marketing regulation, and the agency takes action only when there is a problem. For all animals the Department of Agriculture and states impose animal safety and health requirements.

On this issue, Gottlieb should take note of the analysis of his “senior science and regulatory advisor,” Randall Lutter. While the FDA deputy commissioner in 2009 supported the “new animal drug” guidance, he described it in June of last year — as well as the substance of Dr. Gottlieb’s proposed expansion of its scope — as a failed policy.

As Lutter stated, “FDA’s proposed guidance for genome edited animals lacks a cogent scientific basis, is inconsistent with FDA’s policies regarding genome edited plants, and is unlikely to advance FDA’s mission to protect and promote public health.”

In a June 6 blog posting, Dr. Gottlieb described FDA’s approach this way: “For genetically engineered animals, FDA evaluates not only the safety of food or drug products derived from that animal, but also the effect of the genetic alteration on the health of the animal.”

The reality is that after claiming regulatory jurisdiction over all genetically modified animals, FDA invoked “enforcement discretion” and chose _not_ to evaluate the vast majority of them — laboratory animals, mostly rodents, created with recombinant DNA technology, which were sometimes _designed to be less than healthy_ for research purposes; the novelty pet GloFish; and the new varieties that resulted from conventional breeding.

Also contrary to Gottlieb’s assertions, FDA has stumbled badly under its “new animal drug” policy since it was announced a decade ago. The agency took 20-plus years to review a faster-growing salmon and stalled for five years on the application for a single field trial of self-destructing, non-biting, pesticidal mosquitoes (jurisdiction over which FDA eventually had to punt to the EPA).

Now, the head of the FDA is doubling down, ensuring that new, even more stultifying regulation of genetically engineered animals will keep the entire sector moribund. Talk about “erosion of confidence” in regulators. No wonder little is happening in this once-promising sector of biotechnology.

_John J. Cohrssen is an attorney who has served in the executive and legislative branches of the Federal Government, including as counsel for the House Energy and Commerce Committee. Henry I. Miller was the founding director of the FDA’s Office of Biotechnology and a Fellow at Stanford University’s Hoover Institution._

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

_The views and opinions expressed in this commentary are those of the author and do not reflect the official position of The Daily Caller._

question: What kind of an article is this?

answer: Opinion.

question: According to the author, what are the benefits of genetically modified animals?

answer: They have the potential to benefit the consumers and the environment as they grow faster and produce more environmentally food along with less toxic waste.

question: What does the 2009 act introduced by the FDA mandate?

answer: It requires that new animal drugs be safe and effective before they are allowed to be marketed in the United States.

question: What, in the author's opinion, is the 2009 guidance based on?

answer: Regulatory opportunism as opposed to the preferred scientific and/or regulatory principles-they can benefit and profit off this act.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: The author believes that genetically modified animals may be helpful and have benefits because they have the potential to benefit the consumers and the environment as they grow faster and produce more environmentally food along with less toxic waste. The FDA-Food and Drug Administration in the States-had, as of 2009, determined that genetically modified animals should be treated as drugs, effectively, regardless of the use of their altered DNA. In 2009 they introduced a new act of which the author is wary because they believe it's wary of a process that farmer have used for millennia in selecting certain features of species of plants and animals to emphasize through breeding practices. This act requires that new animal drugs be safe and effective before they are allowed to be marketed in the United States. The author thinks that regulatory opportunism as opposed to the preferred scientific and/or regulatory principles-they can benefit and profit off this act.