text:
On the other side of our Human World, there was a Monster World.

There was a young monster named Davi.  Davi was a lonely boy.  He had seven brothers, but he always stayed home alone.

Davi cried everyday.  He wanted to make friends.

Davi went to talk to his grandfather, who was the guard of the gate which connects Human World and Monster World.

Davi asked his grandfather, "I want to go to Human World.  I don't have any friends here.  Maybe I can make friends over there."

Grandfather said "No, it's too dangerous.  No one in Human World likes Monsters.  You won't make any friends there."

But Davi went "Nobody in Monster World likes me anyway.  I want to at least try making friends in Human World!"

Grandfather decided to allow Davi three days in Human World, and gave him three gold coins, and told him "These coins may help you when you are in trouble."

Davi thanked his grandfather, and went through the gate.

Davi walked through the dark...

Davi landed on the street.  He was amazed at the sun, the sky, the tall trees, and the houses!

Davi saw a college dormitory in which college girls were petting a cat.

Davi sneaked into the dormitory and talked to the cat. "Mr!" said Davi.  "How can I make friends with humans?"

" Meow! " answered Mr. Cat.  "I am not going to tell you because you are a Monster.  We don't like monsters.  But I see you have three gold coins in your pocket.  If you give me one coin, I'll answer your question."

Davi gave him one gold coin.  Then Mr. Cat went "Ok!  All I do is mew and purr at people's feet."

Davi said "Thank you, Mr. Cat!"

Davi approached the college girls, who were busy chattering with each other, and purred and mewed at their feet.  The college girls turned around, and...

"AAARRRGGGHHH!!!  Monster!!!"  The college girls screamed in horror, and ran out of the building!

Davi was left alone in the dormitory.  He walked out on the street, and he cried and cried and cried all night long.

On the second day, Davi saw two young boys playing with a dog in a house.

Davi sneaked into the house, and talked to the Dog. "Mr!" said Davi.  "How can I make friends with Humans?"

" Arf!" answers Mr. Dog.  "I am not going to tell you because you are a monster.  We don't like monsters.  But I see you have two gold coins in your pocket.  If you give me one coin, I'll be happy to answer your question."

So Davi gave him one coin.  Then Mr. Dog went "Okay!  All I do is bow-wow, and lick people's faces."  "Thank you, Mr. Dog!" said Davi.

Davi approached the two young boys, and suddenly licked their faces and BOW-WOWED!!

"AAARRRGGGHHH!!! MONSTER!!"  cried the two young boys.  They screamed in horror and ran out of the building!

Davi was left alone in the house.  He walked out on the street, and he cried and cried and cried all night long.

On the third day, Davi saw a huge house in which an old blind lady was feeding a small bird in a cage.

Davi sneaked into the house, and talked to the bird. "Mrs!" said Davi.  "How can I make friends with humans?"

"Chirp!" answered Mrs. Bird.  "I am not going to tell you because you are a Monster.  We don't like Monsters.  But I see you have one gold coin in your pocket.  If you give me the coin, I'll be happy to answer your question."

So Davi gave her his last gold coin.  Then Mrs. Bird says "Okay!  All I do is chirp and sing a song!"

Davi started singing a song.  Then...

"Where does this come from?" the old blind lady approached Davi.  Davi was so happy.  "This is the most beautiful song I have ever heard,"said Old Blind Lady.

Then she touched Davi's face.  "Who are you? What is this?  Could this be a... AAARRRGGGHHH!!! Monster!!!!"  The Old Blind Lady screamed in horror, and fainted dead!

Davi was left alone once again.  He walked out on the street, and he cried and cried and cried all night long.

Davi went back to the gate.  He was very sad.  The trees, the sun, the sky didn't amaze Davi anymore.

Davi met his grandfather at the gate.  Grandfather went "Why are you crying?"  Then Davi answered "I tried really hard to make friends with humans, and asked Mr. Cat, Mr. Dog and Mrs. Bird for advise, and I followed their good advice, but nobody liked
 me.  Nobody cared about me anywhere.  I'll be alone for the rest of my life.  Nobody likes me!"

Then grandfather answered "It takes so much courage just to go to Human World.  And you were on your own Davi.  You are the most courageous Monster I have ever seen.  Everytime you cried, you learned to be stronger.  You don't need anyone else."

Davi listened to his grandfather.  "Now go home, Davi," said grandfather.

Davi walked back to his house, and opened the door, then...

Davi's seven brothers rushed to him, cheering "We've heard you were in Human World by yourself?!" "I wish I can be like you!"  "You are so brave!"

Davi finally smiled.  From that day on, Davi played with his brothers everyday, and lived happily ever after.

("Little Monster Davi" I have copyrighted this story in America a few years ago.)

title: A monster who tries to make friends with people (Original)

question: Summarize the advice Davi receives.

answer: Davi purchases advice from a cat, a dog, and a bird, and each one tells him to act like them. This fails each time when people see Davi is a monster. When he finally returns to the Monster World, Davi's grandfather tells him he was very brave and that he doesn't need anyone else.

question: What does the text say about Davi's appearance?


split: train

text:
_HOW DO YOU SAY I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE_ was Freda Payne's second American album (following a release in Sweden with Don Gardner) released May 28, 1966. although regarded primarily as a jazz album, there are also several covers of pop songs featured, including the Beatles' hit “Yesterday,” “Let It Be Me,” the Righteous Brothers' “You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin',” “Feeling Good,” and “If You Love Me (Really Love Me).”

_On 'Let It Be Me,' the bluesy treatment takes over. 'Yesterday' is delivered in approved pop standard style. Miss Payne is a versatile and polished performer who understands a lyric._

The album was reissued on CD on March 31, 2009 by Poker Records. The reissue contains a biographical essay of Payne's life and career by Mick Patrick (written in December 2008).

Track listing

Album credits

-   Produced by: Tom Wilson
-   Arranged and conducted by: Benny Golson

CD reissue credits

-   CD release conceived and produced by: Dave Timperley and Mick Patrick
-   Thanks to: Paul Robinson, Jon Roberts, Anna Dueweke, Leee Puddefoot, Kevin Phelan
-   Special thanks to: David Cole of “In the Basement” (www.basement-group.co.uk)
-   Labels and memorabilia courtesy of: Dave Timperley
-   Mastered by: Nick Robbins at Sound Mastering Ltd.
-   Package designed by: Jane Vallero at Blue Line Design Ltd. (www.blueline-design-co.uk)

Category:1966 albums Category:Freda Payne albums Category:Albums produced by Tom Wilson (record producer) Category:MGM Records albums Category:Albums conducted by Benny Golson Category:Albums arranged by Benny Golson

title: How Do You Say I Don't Love You Anymore

question: What was Freda Payne's second American album?

answer: How do you say I don't love you anymore was Freda Payne's second American album.

question: What primarily genre of music is How do you say I don't love you anymore?

answer: How do you say I don't love you anymore is primarily jazz music.

question: When was How do you say I don't love you anymore reissued on CD?

answer: How do you say I don't love you anymore was reissued on CD on March 31st, 2009.

question: Who wrote the biographical essay of Payne's life included in the CD reissue?

answer: Mick Patrick wrote the biographical essay of Payne's life included in the CD reissue.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: How do you say I don't love you anymore is a primarily jazz album released by Freda Payne in 1966. The album contains some covers of other musician's songs and was reissued on CD in 2009.


text:
SERBIA BROADBAND (branded as SBB; full legal name: _Serbia Broadband - Srpske kablovske mreže d.o.o._) is a cable television and broadband internet service provider in Serbia.

As of 2018, it is the largest cable television provider (50% market share) and second largest broadband internet provider (33% market share) in Serbia.[1]

History

[Logo used from 2000 until 2012.] Serbia Broadband was founded on 1 September 2000 and is registered as limited liability company under the register code 17280554 in the Serbian Business Registers Agency (APR).[2] In 2006, SBB launched TotalTV, its DTH satellite television platform.[3]

In April 2015, SBB bought Serbian internet provider EUnet for an undisclosed amount.[4] In April 2017, SBB bought Serbian cable operator IKOM.[5] In November 2017, SBB acquired Serbian minor cable company Kabel Group 85.[6]

Ownership

In 2007, Serbia Broadband was acquired by Mid Europa Partners,[7] which simultaneously purchased Telemach Slovenia followed by acquiring Telemach Bosnia and Herzegovina shortly afterwards, cable television and broadband internet providers in Slovenia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, respectively. Mid Europa then created United Group, a subsidiary to control its three new acquisitions in former Yugoslavia, with European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD) holding a minority stake in the newly created subsidiary. In the case of Serbia Broadband, the owners legally controlled it via the Amsterdam-based Adria Cable B.V.[8]

In October 2013, an American private equity firm Kohlberg Kravis Roberts (KKR) purchased the majority stake in United Group from Mid Europa Partners for an enterprise valuation of 1.3 billion USD, thus gaining control of Serbia Broadband.[9] Once the new owners took over, they began legally controlling Serbia Broadband through the Amsterdam-based Adria Serbia Holdco B.V.

In September 2018, a British private equity firm BC Partners began the process of acquisition of the majority stakes of United Group from KKR for an enterprise valuation of 2.6 billion euros. Upon finalizing the acquisition, BC partners will officially gain ownership of Serbia Broadband.[10]

Technological Development

Launching Total TV in 2006, SBB became the first digital and analogue cable operator to introduce digital television in the region.[11]

In 2010, SBB started delivering managed services while holding a Cisco certificate. There are currently two data centers interconnected with the state-of-the-art infrastructure, servicing clients in the entire Serbia.[12][13]

The company was the first in Serbia to offer digital fixed telephony services in 2012.[14] This was also the year SBB launched the first application for watching television and using TV services on different mobile devices. In September 2017, Serbian Broadband launched EON TV platform which allows viewers in Serbia to watch TV via a smart TV app.[15] In 2018, SBB launched EON Smart Box, which was the first regional solution to combine television with Android services and applications.

The company also introduced the country's first 4K channel (Sport Klub).[16] Furthermore, the operator added four multi-angle and multi-screen channels.[17]

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[17]

title: Serbia Broadband

question: What does the text say about Serbia Broadband's ownership?

answer: Serbia Broadband was acquired in 2007 by Mid Europa Partners, who then created the United Group, a subsidiary to control its acquisitions. In 2013, the American firm, Kohlberg Kravis Roberts purchased the majority stake of United Group. However, in 2018 the British firm, BC Partners, acquired the majority stake of KKR, ultimately owning Serbia Broadband.


text:
*I made the guy the minute he walked into the park. He was trying to hide it, act chill, but I knew straight up that this was the guy I'd been on the phone to not an hour ago. I relaxed back on the bench, lit another cigarette and feigned in the local news section of the paper while I watched him through the smoke. He started forward, stopped, and tried not to look like a rabbit caught in headlights. The sports bag he held was pressed tightly to his chest, and he eyed anyone who got within ten feet of him in case they might make a move for it. He drifted towards the pond across from me, as if to seem to anybody watching that maybe he spotted the person he was looking for on the other side. Pulled his phone from his pocket as though checking a text message. Ambled towards the bench I sat on in semi-circles. There's nothing more noticeable than someone trying not to act noticeable. He probably had the whole thing laid out in his head like some three-act play. His 'drama de non-chalance'. It was fucking hilarious, but tiring at the same time. I dont usually deal so much to new people, I like to deal with my regulars, and maybe the occasional transaction with a friend of a friend, but only when they come vouched for. In this case I made an exception, Malta Black is hot. I needed to move it as fast as possible.*

*After a few more minutes of aimless meandering like a newborn calf, he eventually worked up the courage to sit on the other end of the bench, sat stock straight, watching out across park where some college aged kids tossed a frisbee around under the trees. He spoke to me out of the corner of his mouth; "Ar-Are you Jones?". I folded my paper across my lap and turned to face him abruptly. "Yeah. Are we going to fucking deal or what? I have someplace to be". He recoiled in terror, tensed up, mouth agape and eyes darting, as if expecting the two Au-Pairs with strollers walking by to suddenly pull badges and guns and yell "Freeze! Motherfucker! The jigs up!". I frowned and shot him a 'Chill the fuck out' glare as I pulled the slim case from underneath the bench and popped it open between us.*

*"So Mark said you were in the market for some Malta Black?" I asked as I peeled back the wax sheets from the top of the product. "I need to know you're serious, because this shits not easy to move." The terror left him now, I could see the addict in him, the way his eyes lit up and telltale twitch of the lips when he saw it laid out in front of him like a veritable gold mine. He reached out to pick it up and I snapped the case shut, catching his fingers. "Money first, bud. You know how this works." He nodded as he fumbled his wallet out of his pocket. I continued "This is only the sample case. I have the whole shipment, 30 cases, like this, ready to go. You pay me now, I call our mutual buddy mark and he meets my guy later for the exchange. Cool?" He nodded again, lost for words. He was probably fantasizing about what he was going to do with that much Malta Black. Its a huge amount, even for a heavy addict, but thats not my problem. I just sell it, I don't tell them what to do with it.*

*He offered the sports bag, and I did a quick check to see it wasn't bills stacked on top of socks before I stood up slinging it over my should. "All looks good. You'll hear from mark this evening. If I get home and count this, and find you trying to cut me short, you'll hear from me before then. Personally. Otherwise you wont see me again. Understand?" He mumbled affirmation, transfixed on the case, gently caressing the corners with his fingers. I stubbed out my cigarette on the bench and left by the west st. entrance. Another deal done. Another day down. People say the hardest thing about dealing is not getting hooked yourself. But I've never understood the fascination of stamps.*

title: Short piece inspired by an off-hand comment in a thread on askreddit. Tell me what you think. (~700 words)

question: What are Malta Blacks?

answer: A stamp. Possibly based on the Black Maltese postage stamps.

question: How was the narrative written?

answer: An exchange that seemed illegal but was actually just a person buying stamps. John's internal monologue created a strong sense of this being a contraband-related transaction than anything else -the buyer's actions were not particularly odd, but the interpretation given by the narrator set the narrative theme.

question: Who are the people involved in the exchange?

answer: The unnamed buyer, who seemed rather uncomfortable at the start but relaxed upon seeing the item being legitimate. Jones is the narrator who sold the stamps but did nothing to make Mark feel comfortable.

question: Is there anything in-congruent with the narrative?

answer: John is not just selling a case of rare stamps, but 30 cases of it.  There is something logically strange about a bulk purchase of perfectly legal items being done in such a shady manner.

question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.


text:
_THE WORD & SARDINES_ is the debut single recorded and released by the Washington, D.C.-based go-go group Junkyard Band.[1]

Track listing

A-side

1.  “The Word” – 6:09
2.  “The Word” (short version) – 3:31

B-side

1.  “Sardines” – 6:45

Samples

-   Beastie Boys (“The Maestro (Live)”)
-   Cut Chemist (“King Kumoniwanaleia”)
-   Invisibl Skratch Piklz (“Invisbl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klamz Uv Deth”)
-   Masters Of Ceremony (“Cracked Out”)
-   MC Zappa (“The Jam”)
-   Stetsasonic (“We're The Band”)
-   Timbaland (“Clock Strikes (Remix)”)

[1]

title: The Word & Sardines

question: What is The Word & Sardines?

answer: debut single by Junkyard Band

question: What is go-go music?

answer: the article does not answer this question

question: When was The Word & Sardines released?

answer: the article does not answer this question

question: Who is sampled on The Word & Sardines?

answer: Beastie Boys, Cut Chemist, Invisibl Skratch Piklz, Masters of Ceremony, MC Zappa, Stetsasonic, Timbaland

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The Word & Sardines is the debut single recorded and released by the Washington, D.C.-based go-go group the Junkyard Band.


text:
JOHN FRANKLIN BOLT (19 May 1921 – 8 September 2004) was a naval aviator in the United States Marine Corps and a decorated flying ace who served during World War II and the Korean War. He remains the only U.S. Marine to achieve ace status in two wars and was also the only Marine jet fighter ace. He rose to the rank of lieutenant colonel during his military career.

Born to a poor family in Laurens, South Carolina, Bolt was a self-described “workaholic” and was involved in numerous groups and social activities throughout his life. After dropping out of the University of Florida for financial reasons in 1941, he joined the US Navy and trained as a Marine Corps pilot. Sent to the Pacific Theater of Operations, he flew an F4U Corsair during the campaigns in the Marshall Islands and New Guinea, claiming six victories against Japanese A6M Zeros.

Bolt continued his service through the Korean War, entering combat through an exchange program with the United States Air Force (USAF) in late 1952. Over a period of several weeks in mid-1953, he led flights of F-86 Sabres into combat with MiG-15s of the Chinese Air Force, scoring six victories during fights along the northern border of North Korea, commonly known as “MiG Alley,” giving him a total of 12 victories over his career.

Bolt stayed in the Marine Corps until 1962, serving as an analyst and instructor in his later career, before retiring and earning a Juris Doctor degree from the University of Florida. He subsequently settled down in Florida and began a private real estate law practice; he continued to be active in law until 1991. He died from leukemia in 2004.

Early years

John Bolt was born on 19 May 1921 in Laurens, South Carolina, to Thomas Crews Bolt and Emma Bruce Bolt (née Bagwell). John had a younger brother, Bruce. In 1924 the family moved to Sanford, Florida. In his youth, John Bolt gained the nickname “Jack” from his friends and family.[1] His family was poor and he was for the most part responsible for providing his own clothes and social expenses from the time he was ten years old.[2] He worked several part-time jobs, at one point working 30 to 40 hours a week at a local creamery in addition to attending school. He also enrolled in the Boy Scouts, eventually attaining the rank of Star Scout.[3]

In June 1939, Bolt began attending Seminole High School. Described as modest and hardworking by his high school classmates,[4] he was elected class president in his final two years in school.[5]

Bolt attended the University of Florida, majoring in accounting and meeting most of the costs himself using money that he had saved while working through high school. He joined Phi Eta Sigma, an honor society and professional fraternity, and Alpha Tau Omega, a social fraternity. In 1941, his brother Bruce also enrolled at Florida, straining the family's expenses; John dropped out after his second year so that his brother could complete his degree.[6] Bolt enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve in April 1941 to train as a pilot, but deferred his training when the Marine Corps offered him the chance to finish college and attend law school, paying him 500 a year to do so.[7]

World War II

Bolt left for basic training in June 1941. Though he intended to join the US Marine Corps, he signed up for the US Navy Flight Training Program, which would allow him to fly for the Marines. On completion of his basic training in November 1941, he was selected as a pilot, and moved to Naval Air Station Atlanta, Georgia in February 1942. He was placed on active duty just before the attack on Pearl Harbor and the United States' entry into World War II.[8] Completing his initial pilot training and transferring to Naval Air Station Jacksonville, Florida for the next phase, he started flight training in the SNJ Texan. He also qualified to fly in the N3N Canary trainer aircraft. His final phase of flight lessons occurred in Naval Air Station Miami in Miami, Florida, where he flew the Grumman F3F, a biplane which was the navy's most advanced trainer at the time. Bolt completed this training on 18 July 1942, and was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Marine Corps, receiving his aviator wings that day as well.[9]

Around this time, Bolt began dating Dorothy E. Wiggins, whom he knew from Sanford. The two married after two years of dating,[10] and they eventually had two children together, Robert and Barbara.[11] Years later, during the Korean War, Bolt had the words “Darling Dottie” stencilled on the side of his North American F-86 Sabre jet as a tribute to this wife.

After commissioning, Bolt was assigned as a cadet training instructor, training aviation cadets at Naval Air Station Jacksonville and at Naval Auxiliary Air Station Green Cove Springs, Florida, until December 1942, when the unit was deactivated. Until May 1943 he was trained on the F4F Wildcat, a carrier-based aircraft, in preparation for movement to a front-line combat unit.[12] Over the next few months, Bolt was stationed at Naval Air Station Glenview in Glenview, Illinois, where he trained for 60 hours aboard the paddlewheel aircraft carrier USS _Wolverine_. After qualifying to operate carrier-based aircraft, he was assigned to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar in San Diego, California, until June 1943, when he and his class departed for the Pacific Theater aboard the USS _Rochambeau_.[13]

Formation of VMF-214

On his way to the front lines, Bolt traveled to a number of islands as the _Rochambeau_ stopped at New Caledonia and New Hebrides to avoid Japanese submarines. Upon arrival at Espiritu Santo, Bolt was placed in a pool of new officers who were intended to replace casualties in several squadrons. Casualties at this time proved to be less than expected, so the replacement pool was used to form a new squadron. The new unit was designated VMF-214, and became known as the “Black Sheep” because its pilots had originally not been assigned to a squadron. Under the command of Major Pappy Boyington, the unit was equipped with F4U Corsairs. Moved after several months to the Russell Islands, they were ready for combat by 13 September.[14] Bolt flew the aircraft every chance he got, and although new to the war in the Pacific, Bolt had over 700 hours flying in the F4U Corsair by September, more than many combat pilots accrued in two combat tours.[15]

[Bolt in the South Pacific, 1943]

On 14 September, the squadron began flying missions to escort B-24 Liberator bombers. The Japanese had 200 aircraft at Kahili Airfield and Balalae Island, opposed by only 50 aircraft from the U.S. squadrons in the area. The first couple of missions that the squadron undertook were relatively quiet but, on 16 September, VMF-214 was attacked by a group of 35 Japanese A6M Zeros. The squadron repelled the strike, destroying 11 Japanese aircraft for the loss of only one of their own. Several costly engagements with the strong Japanese forces in the area followed. Bolt did not score any victories during this time, but was promoted to first lieutenant that month.[16]

Marshall Islands

Bolt got his first victories of the deployment on 23 September when he was with a flight of 15 VMF-214 aircraft escorting B-24 Liberators back from a raid on Kahili. The bombers had been followed by 20 to 30 Zeros, and a dogfight quickly ensued.[17] During the course of the engagement over Bougainville, Bolt scored two victories.[18] His wingman, Ed Harper, also claimed a victory. For the next several weeks, the squadron operated out of Munda in the Solomon Islands.[19]

A self-described “workaholic”[20] Bolt was considered by the other pilots to be the most energetic member of the squadron. He took to collecting and sending home keepsakes from daily life on the front lines; he and two other pilots were known as the “Quartermaster Kids” because they collected so many souvenirs and shipped them home. He could often be found in the harbor near their airstrip dynamiting fish and was known to organize many of the squadron's pig roasts and beer parties.[21] Bolt also took it upon himself to test out many different ammunition configurations for the .50 caliber guns on the F4U during his free time. His research was conducted by firing rounds into 50-gallon drums partially filled with gasoline and at abandoned aircraft in the Espiritu Santo boneyard. He found that incendiary rounds were more effective, and convinced his squadron, and eventually most of the aircraft squadrons in the Pacific Theater, to begin firing six incendiary rounds for every one armor-piercing or tracer round, rather than firing one for one.[22][23]

Bolt became well known—but also drew the ire of his squadron's commanding officer—during what began as an escort mission for B-24 Liberators.[24] The bombers were lost in the clouds and the flight ran into poor weather, forcing them to turn back. During the flight home, the U.S. pilots noticed much Japanese surface traffic but did not engage because of the weather. On their way back to Munda one of the aircraft had a mechanical problem, and a group including Bolt had to land at Barakoma Airfield on Vella Lavella. He tried to convince others to go with him to attack the ships they had seen, but they refused.[25] He refueled and took off, against Boyington's orders, and destroyed four enemy barges and strafed several ground concentrations in the vicinity of Tonolei Harbor before returning to Munda. Disobeying a direct order drew Boyington's wrath[26] until the next day, when a telegram was received from Admiral William “Bull” Halsey: “That one man war ... conducted by Lieut Bolt against Jap stuff in Tonolei, warm heart (stop) Halsey.”[27][28]

On 17 October, during a mission over Kahili Airfield, Bolt's squadron was ambushed by Japanese fighters. Bolt downed one of the Japanese aircraft in his last mission before a scheduled rest and recuperation (R&R) in Sydney, Australia.[29]

Vella Lavella

When the squadron returned from its R&R, Bolt had been promoted to captain and the squadron had been relocated to Vella Lavella. The new base was within of Rabaul, which was the center of Japanese activity on New Britain, and was the squadron's next primary target. Defended by 98,000 Japanese troops, the island was of great strategic importance as it had a harbor and several airfields and was within striking distance of the Marshall Islands, defended by 400 Japanese aircraft.[30]

On 23 December, 16 Corsairs from VMF-214 formed part of a force of 120 U.S. fighters and bombers that undertook a mission over Rabaul. The strike against the city and harbor areas was countered by a large force of Japanese aircraft. While defending the bombers, Bolt shot down two more Japanese aircraft, making him the squadron's sixth flying ace. Two days later, he took part in another mission during which his squadron mates claimed four victories, bringing VMF-214's tally of confirmed aerial victories to 76.[31]

On 3 January 1944, VMF-214 was among 75 U.S. aircraft raiding near Rabaul when they were surprised by 300 Japanese aircraft. Boyington was shot down and parachuted into the St. George's Channel. The next day, Bolt led a flight of four Corsairs from VMF-214 in search of Boyington. Despite hazy weather and the need to take an indirect route to avoid Japanese radar, Bolt managed to lead the flight to the area where the battle had taken place the day before. Although they did not spot Boyington, they discovered and engaged a flotilla of Japanese barges, destroying six of them. Bolt also claimed his sixth victory against a Japanese aircraft attempting to defend the barges.[32]

Bolt's tour, along with the rest of VMF-214, came to an end on 8 January 1944, five days after Boyington was shot down and captured by the Japanese. VMF-214 was disbanded and its pilots assigned to other units.[33] In his time with VMF-214, Bolt developed a reputation among his peers as a leader and an accomplished pilot. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross twice, and scored a total of six confirmed victories and one probable victory and two aircraft damaged in his 92 missions with the squadron.[34]

Subsequent assignments

Bolt was reassigned to VMF-211, at an airfield on Nissan Island in the Green Islands, north of Bougainville and west of Rabaul. The aircraft there were primarily concerned with the destruction of convoys and ships. The missions, nicknamed “Truck Busters”, were very successful, but at the cost of damaged aircraft and wounded crewmen, including Bolt's wingman. This tour lasted until May 1944 when Bolt returned to Marine Corps Air Station Santa Barbara with his squadron.[35]

Reassigned, Bolt flew to Hawaii, then to Long Beach, California. He reunited with Dorothy Wiggins in San Francisco, and the two married on 23 May 1944 in Oakland, before going on a one-month honeymoon. His next assignment was with the newly formed VMF-471 at Marine Corps Air Station El Toro. While posted to VMF-471, he attended the Aviation Ground Officer's School at Marine Corps Air Station Quantico, Virginia, from November 1944 through February 1945. He saw no combat for the rest of the war, but did manage to break the Corsair endurance record by keeping an aircraft aloft for 14 hours and 9 seconds. After briefly returning to VMF-471, Bolt was reassigned to VMF-215 in March 1945, tasked with training pilots for new carrier-based aircraft. He remained in this role until V-J Day, the end of hostilities.[36]

Following the war, Bolt served in various units around El Toro. He was at various times assigned to MASG-46, VMF-512, VMF-323, VMF-312, VMF-452, and Marine Aircraft Group 12 (MAG-12), before transferring to Quantico again in November 1949 to attend the Aircraft Maintenance Course.[37] Diving in Florida's Tampa Bay on leave, Bolt (then a captain) set a world spearfishing record when he caught an Atlantic goliath grouper weighing hundreds of pounds.[38]

Korean War

In May 1950, Bolt was reassigned to VMF-224 at Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina, and he remained there until May 1951. The squadron flew the F2H Banshee and within three months of joining the unit he had flown more hours on the aircraft than any other pilot in the squadron. This was followed by a quick four-month tour on the staff at the 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing. During this time, the US Air Force was operating its first squadron of F-86 Sabre aircraft. The Sabres were the only U.S. aircraft which performed well against the MiG-15s operated by China and North Korea in the Korean War. Bolt used his connections to enter an exchange program with the USAF in September 1951, becoming an exchange officer with the 318th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron at McChord Air Force Base in Washington flying the F-94 Starfire. Soon after, he began piloting the F-86F Sabre which had been transferred to the squadron. He continued training with the squadron and was promoted to major in December 1951.[39]

Fighter-bomber missions

In November 1952, Bolt transferred to squadron VMF-115, an element of the 1st Marine Aircraft Wing flying F9F Panther fighter-bomber aircraft in South Korea. He flew 94 combat missions with the squadron, all of them in bombing runs and close air support and air strike missions against ground targets. He did not enjoy this duty, preferring instead to fly the Sabre in air-to-air combat. As his squadron headed to Japan for R&R, he traveled to Seoul to visit the 4th Fighter-Interceptor Wing at Kimpo Airfield.[40]

At the 4th Wing, Bolt met with its commander, Colonel Royal N. Baker, who refused his request to fly in combat units. He then went to the 51st Fighter-Interceptor Wing at Suwon Air Base to observe its operations, where he met with George I. Ruddell, an acquaintance from El Toro, who was commanding the 39th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron. Ruddell agreed to let Bolt join his unit as part of another officer exchange. This apparently angered some of his commanders in VMF-115, and Bolt only completed a requisite six weeks of duty with the wing prior to its next R&R.[41]

Exchange and combat

Six weeks later, Bolt again turned down his R&R and joined the 39th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron, flying the F-86 Sabre.[42] Ruddell assigned him to First Lieutenant Joseph C. McConnell, who would be the top ace in the war. Bolt and McConnell quickly established a close friendship in spite of Bolt's superior rank, and he attributed his success in Korea to McConnell's guidance. Ruddell sent a request to Lieutenant General Glenn O. Barcus, commander of the Fifth United States Air Force, that Bolt's tour with the squadron be extended. The request was granted, and McConnell and Bolt began going on combat missions together as wingmen in MiG Alley, the area in northwestern Korea where air-to-air combat was most frequent.[43] Bolt's Sabre, tail number 52-2582, was named _Darling Dottie._[44]

[Bolt disembarks from his F-86 Sabre in Korea several days after his fifth and sixth victories in July 1953.]

By May, McConnell was rotated back to the United States and Bolt was given charge of the flight; in 16 combat missions and 27 combat hours, his flight had never engaged any MiG fighters. This changed on 16 May, when the flight was attacked by a group of MiG fighters at . He was quickly tailed by one of the aircraft, but managed to avoid its fire and tail another MiG himself. With several well placed shots, Bolt forced its pilot to bail out. Six days later on 22 May, MiG aircraft attacked again, and he managed to outmaneuver a fighter which had been attacking his wingman and shoot it down at .[45] On 24 June, he flew his 31st combat mission, during which he engaged a single MiG and shot it down after a quick battle in the vicinity of the Yalu River.[46] A week later on 30 June, he was flying another mission in the same area when he spotted and quickly shot down another MiG. By the end of the month, he had credit for four victories and two aircraft “damaged”.[47]

On 11 July, Bolt led another flight of four fighters in a reconnaissance mission above Sinuiju, his 37th combat mission of the deployment.[48] Two of the aircraft departed after their fuel tanks were depleted, leaving him with one wingman to continue the patrol.[49] Soon after, the two pilots spotted a formation of four MiGs taking off from Antung airfield on the Chinese side of the Yalu River. Despite being low on fuel, Bolt ordered an attack. He made a head-on dive toward the formation, which was attempting to gain altitude, and downed the leading airplane with four machine gun bursts.[50] He then banked his aircraft and aimed for the second aircraft in the formation, continuing the attack and scoring hits on its fuselage. The pilot bailed out, and the remaining two MiGs fled.[51] Within the first five minutes of the engagement, Bolt shot down two of the MiGs. This brought his tally of confirmed victories during the war to six.[52] For these actions he became the final Marine aviator to be awarded the Navy Cross during the war.[53] Bolt is the only non-USAF pilot to become an ace in the F-86 and the only naval aviator to become an ace in two wars.[54] Shortly after this final mission, his tour of duty ended and he was rotated back to the United States for an extended rest and vacation, which he spent with his family.[55]

Later Marine Corps career

Following his return from Korea, Bolt was assigned to the U.S. Navy Bureau of Aeronautics in Washington, D.C., as an aircraft design engineer. In this duty, he was detailed to The Pentagon and a board which reported on aircraft performance and tactics. A press conference was held in September 1953 to welcome him to the position, and during this he recounted stories from his service in Korea for the first time to local newspapers. Bolt's experiences in World War II and the Korean War were used to help shape air combat doctrine.[56] He worked in this assignment for around a year, until 1954 when he was promoted to lieutenant colonel and moved to the Naval Pilot Test Center at Naval Air Station Patuxent River, in St. Mary's County, Maryland. During this time, he took evening classes at the University of Maryland, eventually earning a Bachelor of Science in Military History.[57]

In 1957, Bolt was ordered to Marine Corps Base Quantico to attend a one-year course at the Senior School of Amphibious Warfare as part of a program which would later be incorporated into the accredited curriculum of the Marine Corps University. On 5 November, after this one-year stint, he was assigned to command VMF-214, his World War II squadron, at Marine Corps Air Station Kaneohe Bay on the Hawaiian Islands. The squadron, which was part of Marine Aircraft Group 13, flew the FJ-4 Fury; Bolt remained in command of it until 14 August 1959. His final assignment as an instructor was at the Senior School of Amphibious Warfare at Quantico. He taught at this school for the final three years of his career, before retiring from the Marine Corps on 31 March 1962.[58]

Later life

After retiring from the Marine Corps, Bolt, then 40 years old, began a new career in agriculture. He and his wife moved back to Sanford, Florida, where he worked for Chase & Co. He remained in that position for five years, until 1967.[59] That year, he decided to follow his original career aspirations to be a lawyer. He enrolled in the College of Law at the University of Florida, where his son Robert was also in attendance.[60] The two formed an American handball team during their spare time, and won several tournaments.[61] Bolt's program had a three-year curriculum, but he completed the degree in 27 months, graduating with a Juris Doctor degree in December 1969. For two years after graduation, he stayed with the university to teach, and from 1969 to 1971 he was a law professor as well as the president of the Board of Trustees of Alpha Tau Omega, the fraternity he had joined while an undergraduate at the university.[62]

After this stint as an instructor, Bolt and his wife moved to New Smyrna Beach, a place both of them had enjoyed in their childhoods. He began a private law practice and became a local property owner. During this time he was described as a “softspoken, kind, gentle person who would go out of his way to help a friend or a stranger.”[63] He specialized in real estate law and was the attorney for the city's utilities commission for 13 years. He retired from law in 1991.[64]

Bolt subsequently lived a quiet life and kept frequent contact with his children. Robert became a lawyer in Tampa, Florida, and Barbara wrote for _Reader's Digest_.[65] In May 1993, Bolt attended the 50th reunion of the original “Black Sheep” or the 8th Fighter Squadron in New Orleans, Louisiana, and gave the toast at the beginning of the festivities.[66] In 2003, he was inducted into the American Combat Airman Hall of Fame at the American Airpower Heritage Museum in Midland, Texas.[67]

Bolt died of acute leukemia in Tampa on 8 September 2004 after fleeing the approaching Hurricane Frances. At the time of his death, he was the last surviving of the seven Americans to become aces in both World War II and Korea. He was survived by his wife and children, as well as two grandchildren.[68]

Aerial victory credits

Bolt scored a total of 12 confirmed aerial victories during his career, with an additional “probable” victory and two aircraft damaged.[69] He was the only U.S. Marine Corps pilot to become an ace in the Korean War,[70] and remains the only U.S. Marine Corps pilot to be an ace in two wars.[71] Bolt was one of 1,297 World War II aces from the United States with six confirmed victories during that war. He later became one of 40 Korean War aces from the United States with six more confirmed victories during that war.[72]

Bolt is one of seven U.S. pilots who achieved ace status as both a piston-engined pilot in World War II and as a jet pilot in Korea. The others are all USAF pilots: Francis S. Gabreski, James P. Hagerstrom, William T. Whisner, Vermont Garrison and Harrison Thyng, as well as George A. Davis, Jr.[73]

  Date                #   Type       Location       Aircraft flown   Unit
  ------------------- --- ---------- -------------- ---------------- --------------------
  23 September 1943   2   A6M Zero   Bougainville   F4U Corsair      VMF-214
  17 October 1943     1   A6M Zero   Bougainville   F4U Corsair      VMF-214
  23 December 1943    2   A6M Zero   New Ireland    F4U Corsair      VMF-214
  4 January 1944      1   A6M Zero   Rabaul         F4U Corsair      VMF-214
  16 May 1953         1   MiG 15     North Korea    F-86E Sabre      39th FIS, 51st FIW
  22 June 1953        1   MiG 15     North Korea    F-86E Sabre      39th FIS, 51st FIW
  24 June 1953        1   MiG 15     North Korea    F-86E Sabre      39th FIS, 51st FIW
  30 June 1953        1   MiG 15     North Korea    F-86E Sabre      39th FIS, 51st FIW
  11 July 1953        2   MiG 15     North Korea    F-86E Sabre      39th FIS, 51st FIW
  SOURCE:[74]

Military awards

Bolt was decorated during World War II and the Korean War. His military decorations and awards include:[75]

  ---- -- --
  []
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+:---------------------------------------------------------------------:+
| Naval Aviator Badge                                                   |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Navy Cross                                                            |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Distinguished Flying Cross                                            |
| with two gold 5/16 inch stars                                         |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Navy Presidential Unit Citation                                       |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| American Campaign Medal                                               |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Army of Occupation Medal                                              |
| with 'Japan' clasp                                                    |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation                          |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+

Navy Cross citation

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title: John F. Bolt

question: When was John Bolt born?

answer: Bolt was born on May 19, 1921.

question: What rank did Bolt achieve in the military?

answer: He reached the rank of lieutenant colonel.

question: How many victories did Bolt obtain as a pilot?

answer: He had 12 confirmed aerial victories, along with one probable victory.

question: How many awards did Bolt receive?

answer: He received 7 awards.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: John Bolt was a decorated naval aviator in the United States Marine Corps. He served during World War II and the Korean War. He had 12 confirmed aerial victories in his career.


text:
“Would you like to try the chef’s recommendation today? We have some nice seared scallops with jalapeño vinaigrette” the nice waiter looked at both of us with a smile that looked so empty and rehearsed, yet I welcomed his fake kindness.

Scallops sounded great for me “Yeah we’d love that, thank –

“Actually we’ll look at the menu first, thank you.” Dan looked back on the waiter with the same kind of smile he pulled on us, except his looked more like those threatening smiles; you know, eyes wide shut, huge smile that goes from cheek to cheek.

Waiter looked at us with a bit of surprise, as if he didn’t expect this to happen, as if somehow he had failed a very important mission he thought he had in control.

“Oh… uh… sure, here you go, I’ll get back on you to see what you’ll have."

What in the hell?

“Daniel, why did you do that? Scallops sound good, I’d like to try some of that.”

He looked at me with a tilted head to the side, as if disappointed.

“Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“Oh boy, oh Chris, you sweet, innocent, naive Chris, life hasn’t taught you anything yet, has it?”

“Teach me what? I don’t understand” He was doing one of his smartass speeches once again, showing off about something he knew and I didn’t… and I loved every bit of it.

“Of course you don’t, how could you? You’re still in diapers, I can tell, there’s much for you to learn.”

“Okay alright, I get it, now cut to the chase, and tell me why we’re still looking at the menus when our Scallops could be right at this moment in the kitchen being prepared?” The mere thought of it made my mouth water, after all I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“That’s the thing, though, young Christian, you don’t really want those scallops, trust me.” He had this fancy voice while talking, a pipe and a glass of wine would've fit his tone perfectly.

“Why not? Will you stop fooling around already and tell me?”

“See, I used to work for plenty of restaurants back when I was 16, I loved the idea of having an easy job, and so I used to mop the kitchen floors, do this and that and whatnot. And there were plenty of trends I noticed, they caught my eye, and taught me the dark secret behind every restaurant. But, in a sense, it was revealing and rewarding. You see, there was this seafood chain I used to work for, lifting boxes filled with shrimps and every kind of frozen fish you could think of and some you never even knew existed.” He went on and on, he had this way of telling stories that just kept you hooked. “Anyway, just like I had to take charge of unloading fish and shrimp, I was also in charge of getting the unused and rotten packs on the trash. Now think for a second, if a business hasn’t sold most if not all of its product, is it at maximum profit? No, of course not, which is why most of the times, I didn’t get to throw anything to the garbage. Before I could get those moldy boxes out in the trash, the manager would snatch them off my hands, hand it to the chef, chef would say they have a certain amount of hours before it completely rottens out, manager would tell the waiters they needed this dish to sell out before it becomes poison, and thus all those signs that you see at every place selling the special or the chef’s recommendation, and of course and most importantly, that waiter telling us and that table next to us to try those great and delicious scallops.”

I was astonished, and for a second there, I wanted to throw up, I thought of all the ‘specials’ I’ve ever tried in my life, and thought of just what amount of rotten food has gone through my system.

“So, you’re trying to tell me that all of those are just dishes that need to be sold before it can kill us?”

“Exactly that my lovely Chris.” He said as he looked over at the menu; I did too, trying to figure out what wasn’t going to most likely kill him, I knew I skipped the whole scallops section.

Waiter came back with a bottle of white wine Dan had obviously ordered on my back, he was like that, but he did it to surprise me.

“So, have you decided on what you’ll have for dinner, gentlemen?”

Dan smiled back at the waiter ready to answer for both of us, once again not letting me say a word.

“Yup, actually, those scallops you offered us sounded lovely we’ll both try them”

My head almost exploded as I heard those words coming out of his mouth, unlike the waiter who had a sudden burst of joy upon listening to the order, as if he’d won. I watched the waiter go away and then turned my sight back to Dan who was once again smirking in his smartass way.

“I swear to god Dan, if I wasn’t in love with you I’d punch your pretty face this instant and those green eyes of yours would turn black just like that.”

“And I love you even more pink cheeks, but anyway you seem mad, what is it?”

“Why did you tell off the waiter when he offered the scallops on the first place, then told me all the horrible implications, just to order it anyway in the end? You do realise I’ve sort of lost my appetite don’t you?”

“I assume, but don’t you get it? You see, that’s the beauty of it, the whole concept of rotting meat, cooking it does the job of killing it… well, mostly, and so it becomes harmless and even then our inmune system apparently has the power to hold such threats. Think of salmonella, most meats have it, yet it only takes a nice bath of hot grease to kill it off and you’re ready to eat your dead disease food, ‘free’ in a way, of any diseases.”

I wasn’t satisfied with his answer...

“That still doesn’t justify why the need to go through all of this.”

“Very well,” he responded “I guess what I’m trying to show you is how absurd humans are, trying to obey a fictitious order established by ourselves so that we believe it is within its nature to be that way, like expiration dates, just a measurement. People who oppose the love we have for each other follow this same illusion.”

It all clicked in a matter of seconds, and as I gave it some thought I looked at him.

“Kiss me”

He didn’t give it much thought, nor did he question my request, all he did was put down his glass of wine and lean towards me through the table, he grabbed my face with his firm hands and pressed his lips against mine, and so we kissed. Our love consolidated in an expression that for inexplicable reasons made our bodies fill with each others' warmth. Our affection was an expression of how the established order was wrong and how our love was as true as the rest of them. We tend to believe in things without giving it much doubt because it was said to us from the start, and I was just starting to realise how wrong that was.

title: [RO](Gay) Seared Scallops

question: What does the story say about Dan and the protagonist?

answer: Dan and the protagonist are out having dinner. Dan is not pleased with the waiter's recommendation and the protagonist is baffled by his decision to avoid the scallops. Dan explains to him that most times restaurants that have "recommended" menus usually do this with ingredients that are about to go rotten. When the waiter comes back Dan decides to order the scallops anyway. The protagonist finds this odd and Dan explains that the scallops will be clean once cooked anyway. The protagonist is weirded out while somewhat fascinated by Dan's explanation and they kiss.

question: What does the story say about Dan and the waiter?

answer: Dan recognizes that the waiter's recommendation to him is made of ingredients that are slowly rotting. He sends the waiter off and explains this to his date, Chris. When the waiter comes back he orders the recommended meal anyway despite knowing the story behind this. Chris is both weirded out and fascinated by Dan's explanation behind this and they kiss.

question: What does the story say about Dan?

answer: Dan used to be a waiter and understands what goes on behind the kitchen. Dan explains to Chris that when waiters recommend the "chef's recommendation" it is because the ingredients they are using are about to expire. Chris is disgusted by this but despite knowing this, Dan still insists that they order the chef's recommendation.

question: What does the story say about being a waiter?

answer: The story explains that being a waiter shows you the dark secrets that go on in every restaurant. In a sense, it is both revealing and rewarding. Sometimes restaurants use ingredients that will almost expire and cook this before they rot. This is then recommended to customers the next day.


text:
_METOPUS FILUM_ is a species of metopid first found in soil from the Murray River floodplain, Australia. It can be distinguished from its congeners by its thin body, an absence of cortical granules, and a low number of ciliary rows and adoral polykinetids.[1]

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title: Metopus filum

question: Where can Metopus Filum be found?

answer: It can be found in the Murray River floodplain in Australia.

question: What are the distinguishing factors that set it apart from its congeners?

answer: Metopus Filum have thin bodies, an absence of cortical granules, and a low number of ciliary rows and adoral polykinetids.

question: What are Metopus filum?

answer: Metopus filum are a species of metopid.

question: What specific place were Metopus filum found?

answer: They were first found in soil.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article describes Metopus filum and where its located and its distinguishable characteristics.


text:
The 1989 OCTOBER REVOLUTION PARADE was a parade that took place in Red Square in Moscow on 7 November 1989 to commemorate the 72nd anniversary of the socialist revolution in the Russian Empire in 1917. Mikhail Gorbachev (the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union) and the Soviet leadership watched the parade from Lenin's Mausoleum. General of the Army and Minister of Defence Dmitry Yazov made his 3rd holiday address to the nation after he inspected 7 sets of armed battalions and academies. Col. Gen. Nikolai Kalinin the head of the Moscow Military District was the 1989 parade commander.[1][2]

Particularities

It is one of the last traditional October Revolution military parades in the USSR's existence. Two days after the parade, the Berlin Wall in East Berlin fell. This would be the last time that Gorbachev would be at the parade in the capacity of General Secretary. Other guests included Nikolai Ryzhkov (the Premier of the Soviet Union)[3] and political prisoner Yuri Fidelgolts. Defense Minister Yazov spoke from the rostrum of the mausoleum about the priority of “universal human interest” and “the unilateral reduction of armaments”. International observers noticed the absence of missiles from the Strategic Missile Forces.[4] After the official march past, Massed bands of the Moscow Military District under Major General Nikolai Mikhailov performed an exhibition drill before they marched off Red Square. After the parade, demonstrations of workers from various soviet jobs and a parade of soviet people and athletes through Red Square.[5]

Parade order

Ground Column

-   Corps of Drums of the Moscow Military Music School (drummers march to 120 beats per second[6])
-   M. V. Frunze Military Academy
-   Felix Dzerzhinsky Artillery Academy
-   Military Armored Forces Academy Marshal Rodion Malinovskovy
-   Yuri Gagarin Air Force Academy
-   Prof. Nikolai Zhukovsky Air Force Engineering Academy
-   M. V. Frunze Naval College
-   98th Guards Airborne Division
-   Moscow Border Guards Institute of the Border Defence Forces of the KGB “Moscow City Council”
-   336th Guards Naval Infantry Brigade
-   OMSDON Division of the Internal Troops
-   Suvorov Military School
-   Nakhimov Naval School
-   Moscow Military High Command Training School “Supreme Soviet of the Russian SFSR”

Mobile Column

-   2nd Guards Motor Rifle Division
-   Airborne Forces
-   4th Guards Tank Division
-   Rocket Complexes of the Soviet Army

Other parades in Soviet cities

Revolution Day parades and celebrations were also held in many Soviet cities such as Leningrad's Palace Square. In Leningrad, a 30,000-strong column of opposition forces, took part in a general demonstration under the slogan, “November 7 - the day of national tragedy” and “We will strike with perestroika on communism”. The local Militsiya cut off some of the participants, kept them cordoned off for half an hour, avoiding a potential breakout of violence.[7]

The capitals of Soviet republics also held their own parades:

-   Chișinău, Moldavian SSR, Victory Square[8]

-   Minsk, Belarusian SSR, Lenin Square[9]

-   Kiev, Ukrainian SSR, Kreshchatyk Street[10]

-   Tashkent, Uzbek SSR, Lenin Square

-   Vilnius, Lithuanian SSR, Gediminas Avenue[11]

The Government of the Armenian SSR cancelled the parade in on Lenin Square in Yerevan due to protest, officially ending the republic's tradition of military parades.[12] In the Georgian SSR, the parade was cancelled in Tbilisi in the face of protests from the National Independence Party.[13] On the morning of 7 November, a group of 100 people took candles and stood in front of tanks preparing for the parade in Kishinev. Once supporters of the Popular Front of Moldova arrived at Victory Square, the leaders of Communist Party of Moldova left the central stage immediately, with the mobile column of the parade being cancelled.[14][15][16][17][18] Protesters in Vilnius blocked the tanks rolling through the central avenue, shortly delaying the mobile column, however the parade continued as planned.[19]

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[8] http://www.rri.ro/en_gb/1989_in_bessarabia-2524981

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[14] https://ru.sputnik.md/amp/analytics/20160904/8846533/moldova-ussr-narod-prazdniki.html

[15] http://www.rri.ro/en_gb/1989_in_bessarabia-2524981

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[17] file:///C:/Users/glaws_000/Downloads/Musteata%20Euxeinos%2015%2016_2014.pdf

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title: 1989 October Revolution Parade

question: Where did the 1989 October Revolution Parade take place?

answer: In the Red Square in Moscow.

question: Explain why the 1989 October Revolution Parade took place.

answer: To commemorate the 72nd anniversary of the socialist revolution in the Russian Empire in 1917.

question: Explain what happened after the 1989 parade.

answer: Two days after the parade, the Berlin Wall in East Berlin fell making it one of the last traditional October Revolution military parades.

question: Where else were parades being held?

answer: In many other Soviet cities such as Leningrad's Palace Square.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: One of the final October Revolution Parades took place in 1989 within the Red Square of Moscow. It commemorated the 72nd anniversary of the Socialist Revolution in the Russian Empire in 1917. Two days after the parade, the Berlin Wall in East Berlin fell.


text:
When you were nine, your mother shot you in the chest.

At school, they called you Voodoo Boy, but as your dad, I couldn’t see the wood for the trees. I see it now. Clear as sheets of gelatine. And the way you sculpted me... well, it makes the analogy all the more appropriate I suppose.
When you fell and tore your knees, you didn’t cry like other kids. You were transfixed by the leaky, tasty goo that came out; running down your shins, and coating your fingertips. Dabbling and savouring and swallowing the copper liquid, with a grin on your face and a flutter in your concrete heart.

Your teachers would write notes in your workbook. Not pleasant ‘Well done Nicholas’es as I would’ve wanted, but ‘See me’s and red detention slips. All the time. Stabbing with pencils, painting curses on walls. You held a girl down, and stapled her tongue to her lip, Nick.

We took you out of school after that.
And your mother, she looked at you in shame, disgust. Loathing. She couldn’t understand – and this is a direct quote – why you were so fucking evil. I couldn’t bring myself to hate you. I made you, and I wanted to make your life liveable. That was my duty.

The strangest things would fascinate you; ordinarily exciting things were dashed with mundane and just discarded, like they weren’t worth the effort. You liked eyes. You drew them. You touched them and pushed them inwards to see how long it took for your vision to fog over. Once, your mother stopped you from popping it back into your skull. We need to be clear on this; it wasn’t because she didn’t want it to happen. She almost certainly did. She simply couldn’t stomach it. And when yours weren’t interesting anymore, the growing brown tedium of your irises, you looked to experiment elsewhere.
Not on me, mine were brown too. What you told me after pressing your own was that you wanted to see inside. You asked me what was there, and I said I didn’t know. Blood or something probably.

It was around eight o’clock, sometime in November. Your mother had fallen asleep on the sofa, and you were drawing, cutting and sticking. You heard her snore; ‘Mean Old Mum’, and you felt like an experiment. Mother’s pearly blues.
You tried to see inside her eyes. I think you believed me about the contents, but you were very much about finding things out for yourself, for certain.
Her eyes were loosely closed. The one on the left, the top eyelid. You snipped it right up the middle to get a closer look at the cornea, the iris, the pupil. White fluid, red fluid, and screaming, cursing, flailing mother. She said that we had to disown you, that you were a fucked up child. I couldn’t leave you, and she left me after that. I still loved her and trusted her, and she still popped by from time to time – to cry, to talk – but she never acknowledged you again.
One day, she came by, drunk. Very drunk. All slurred words and vocal gesticulations. She had a service revolver, her Dad’s I think.

When you were nine, your mother shot you in the chest.
When you were nine, your mother shot herself in the head, upwards, through the roof of her mouth.

She collapsed backwards, into the table by the front door – the one we kept the keys on, and the post – an assortment of thumping noises, and gurgling noises trickling from the hole in her head.

I loved you Nick. And for all your faults, I still love you. But I’m done now. Everyone gives me the look. The one that says ‘like Father like son’. And I don’t want to be thought of like that. I’m a good man. I have a good heart. But they’ve gone to waste.

I guess I’m trying to say that I hope all this has changed you, and I’ll see you soon.

Love you Nick,
Dad.

title: Voodoo Boy

question: Why didn't they get professional help for Nick?

answer: Doesn't mention.

question: Write a ~9 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is writing a letter to his deceased son Nick. Nick was an evil child who stabbed other kids with pencils and going as far as stapling one girl's tongue to her lip. His parents take him out of school. His mother was disgusted and horrified by Nick's behavior but the narrator couldn't stop loving him. One day Nick, who had become increasingly interested in finding out what the inside of an eyeball looked like cuts his mother's eyelid to get a closer look. His mother was done with him after that and left Nick and the narrator. She would still come by to talk and cry with the narrator but never acknowledged Nick after that day. One night Nick's mom comes over and is drunk. She then shoots Nick in the chest and herself in the head.


text:
BEFORE he approached the tent where his commanding officer waited on March 9th 1974, Hiroo Onoda did two things. First, he inspected his rifle. (The Arisaka 99 still worked perfectly; over almost 30 years he had treated it as tenderly as a baby.) Then he retied his boots. Nothing must be slipshod. A soldier of the god-emperor had to be pure, prepared and spiritually invincible.

He had taken elaborate care to get this far. All his guerrilla training had been employed in case, as he suspected, he was walking into a trap. He had planned the meeting for the evening, when there would be just enough light to recognise a face but not enough to hinder his escape, if necessary. Palm and _bosa_ trees hid him as he crept down from the mountains. To cross clearings, he camouflaged his threadbare army uniform—more neatly sewn patches than uniform—with sticks and leaves. Wherever it was safe, he rested.

It was helpful that, after three decades living off the land, he was familiar with every inch of Lubang Island in the Philippines. He knew when local farmers would be about, and where, because he stole coconuts and mangoes from them and shot their cattle in order to survive. Sometimes he killed the farmers, too. After all, this was war, and he had his orders. The orders were that, though the rest of the Japanese army had withdrawn from the island in February 1945 when the Americans invaded, he, as an intelligence officer, should stay, spy on the enemy and wait for his colleagues to return. So he had waited.

In the beginning he commanded a unit of three men, but they had died at various points, two shot by the Philippine police. The war had gone very quiet, so quiet that in 1964, to his surprise, America and Japan competed in apparent amity at the Olympic games. But the island still crawled with American agents and spies, who kept dropping leaflets urging him to surrender. All of it was trickery, he thought. He told the young Japanese hiker who eventually found him that he would not stop fighting until his commanding officer, Major Yoshimi Taniguchi, ordered him to cease in person. So on that day in 1974 the elderly major, now a bookseller, especially summoned from Japan, gave him his new orders. Mr Onoda at once laid down his rifle, 500 rounds, his ceremonial sword and sword-belt and his dagger in its white case, and saluted the flag of the rising sun.

If it was not a surrender, it still felt crushingly like one. For Major Taniguchi informed him not only that the war was over, but that Japan had lost. Mr Onoda’s first thought was: how could they be so sloppy? Rather than lose, rather than lay down arms like this, a Japanese soldier was supposed to die. And he felt like dying. “Do not live in shame,” General Tojo had written; “leave no ignominious crime behind you.” His mother had given him his dagger, as he left for active service, to kill himself with if he was captured.

She meant it, for when he behaved uncontrollably at the age of six she had taken him to the family shrine to commit _harakiri_ then and there. Of course he hadn’t been able to cut his small, quaking belly. Who could, at six? Later, it would have been almost easy. But in fact his orders in 1945 had been to stay alive, not to die. Intelligence officers were more useful that way. It meant he risked being an outcast when he returned to Japan, simply because he had not made the supreme sacrifice and added his name to the divinities honoured at the Yasukuni shrine. His duty, however, was to spend every moment serving his country in exactly the way he had been told.

That civic imperative was what mattered, he said later; nothing personal or individual. But pride entered the equation, too. He was fiercely competitive, honed with _kendo_ and swimming—though also with a 50-a-day cigarette habit before he went into hiding—and loved to show off how well he could fend for himself. The man who kept neat and trim for years in the jungle had also cut quite a figure at 18 in central China, as a travelling salesman for a lacquerware company, driving a 1936 Studebaker and wearing English tailored suits. He had style and stubbornness as well as self-discipline. Outside reports said he wept uncontrollably as he laid his rifle down. He merely wrote that, in the course of delivering a night-long field report that covered 29 years, he faltered once or twice.

Sleeping and waking

Returning to Japan as a hero, he did not know what had become of the place. He found it cowed, drowsy, and denuded of self-confidence. Japan was blamed for the East Asian war when, in his view, it had had no choice but to fight in order to survive. The Americans, who had stripped the country of its military power and made the emperor a cypher, also seemed to have drained away the national will. After barely a year at home, loudly on the right of politics, Mr Onoda left for Brazil to be a cattle-rancher and take a wife. He eventually came back to establish a school where modern Japanese children could learn to survive in the wild, like him.

In 2007 he offered his “words to live by” to the _Japan Times_. Almost all were to do with civic duty and self-reliance. One thought stood out: “There are some dreams from which it is better not to wake.” By which he meant, he explained, his long dream of war.

This article appeared in the Obituary section of the print edition under the headline "Last man fighting"

question: What army was Hiroo Onoda fighting for?

answer: The Japanese army.

question: When did Hiroo Onoda surrender?

answer: In 1974.

question: What islands did Hiroo Onoda hide on?

answer: Islands in the Phillipines.

question: What country did he relocate to after returning to Japan?

answer: Brazil.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Japanese spy Hiroo Onoda survived almost thirty years in the Phillipines in the wild as a spy, still believing that the United States and Japan were fighting. He finally surrendered in 1974, after receiving orders from his commanding officer. He was disgusted by the state of conquered Japan, and left for Brazil, but later returned to found a school for Japanese youth.


text:
Uneasiness was setting in. No no, that's incorrect. This uneasiness, it was present at the very beginning. It's not nervousness. It's not anxiousness, nor fear. It's unsettling coldness. Yes, it was uneasiness, and it was there the moment a reached the foot of the basement stairs.

Stairs? I have no recollection of these stairs. I couldn't paint the faintest picture of these stairs. How did they feel? Were they carpeted? Were they wooden? Were the stairs to short that I couldn't walk down them without turning my feet and walking down with my body slightly cocked to the side? No, I'd remember that. Wait, are there even stai-. Yes. Yes there is. That much I am certain of. There are stairs, and I'm at the bottom of them.

I know I'm in the basement too. Or is this a cellar? I'd certainly describe the room my left a cellar. Its floor is cold, broken concrete. Its concrete walls lined with shelves. No recollection of what's on the shelves. However, I'm not standing in a cellar. Cellars don't have carpet, and I'm standing on carpet. Ugly carpet too. Its main color a burnt orange. Patterns are painted in with brown. It's old carpet, and I'm now repulsed by it, desperately desiring to move off it.

I step out. How long had I been standing still? I begin moving quickly now. I'm now in a hallway. The hallway is too narrow. Two people could not walk abreast without being uncomfortably close. I was alone. Why did this narrow hallway anger me the way it did? The hallway walls didn't help my mood either. They were covered with that shiny, pathetic excuse of fake wood.

Finally, the room I was being drawn to. More bad carpet. This time a green shag carpet covers the floor. A bedroom. The bed was made, but with old, unused linen. A dresser and mirror are to my right. I walk in. I notice another room past the dresser. A light is on in the room. Uneasiness is with me again. I need to see what's in that room. No. Then I realize whatever is in that room is not supposed to be seen by me. I can't handle the uneasiness any longer. I would rather feel the coldness of death. Death, that's exactly what awaits me in that room. I step closer. Breathing becomes difficult. I'm closer now. Very close. One more step, that's all I need to take. I close my eyes, take the step, and turn.

I open my eyes. Only darkness, I'm now awake. A feeling of uneasiness, it's the only thing I bring back with me from my recurring dream.

title: A Recuring Dream

question: How can you describe the overall feeling of this short story?

answer: Uneasiness is the overall feeling of this short story.

question: What can be told about what the author fears in this story?

answer: It can be said that the author fears death in this story, and the author fears a lonely death.

question: What room was the author being drawn to in this dream?

answer: The author was being drawn to a bedroom in the dream.

question: How can you describe the author's thought process as the author goes forward in the dream?

answer: The author is over analytical and has many questions about every step or new surrounding they reach in their dream.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This short story describe an uneasy dream that takes place in a house, with the end destination being a bedroom reflecting death.


text:
You could always find him there under the pavilion. He branded it with only his presence and it seemed no one dared to encroach into his domain. He was not violent or cruel, and no part of him seemed physically menacing. That was not the aspect of his persona that allowed him his solidarity. He was a singular entity, a loner, but it was hard to tell if he was alone, or rather if he felt that he was alone. He seemed content, and he sang mostly when no one was listening. His only possessions in the world consisted of the clothes he wore on his back, an old guitar strung with classical nylon strings, a bongo of which had been fixed with duct tape, and three or four blankets that he kept for the coldest of Florida nights.  Every day, he laid his possessions out on the concrete bench for the world to see and the world looked upon them; shamefully or shamelessly, it is hard to tell which. His province, his watch tower so to speak, was strategically placed at the foot of the boardwalk and he resided upon his post, taking surveillance of those walking by.  His motive was not vindictive and his surveillance was not judgmental or nosey. Most of all it was empty. He saw as a parrot speaks, he watched, he memorized and he sang. He sang out the events that he saw and he strummed his guitar to the rhythm of the memory.
      That was his day life. At night he could be found at a similar post further down the beach, next to Hummingston Park. He had found for himself there a place to sing and play upon the grand entrance of stone and marble that separated the street from green lawns of meticulously maintained suburban excess. This spectacle of squandered city funds was fit to be a stage for the most talented of street performers. However, even during the waking hours of the town the audience was sparse and his variety of entertainment seemed the incoherent mutterings of riff raff upon their unwelcoming ears. Vagabonds excluded, this audience could clap and cheer for the marble of the wall fortressing suburbia against ill maintenance and neglected shrubbery. Maybe it was the sparkle in the eye of the audience at the grand entrance that kept him away during the day, further down the beach in the safety of his pavilion. It had to have been that jealousy that he must have felt, that repelled him, when his audience looked upon the sights of his stage and praised it for its beauty, its stateliness, its stark serenity, arrogant enough to shun him when the world looked on.
 I always fashioned him to have come to entertain, to bring joy and inspire some greater meaning, some truth that he had found and wanted, needed to share with someone, everyone. But he was cut off and booed of stage because the very people he had such enthusiasm in reaching were so deaf to his wisdom that they would rather sit silently and admire the lights and shadows of the theatre apart from the theatrics. To him that victory of suburbia, that wall, must have appeared made of gold bricks, winking the Florida sun into his eyes with an unrelenting, apathetic glare.
     But it is doubtful that he had such sentiments. The truth of his inner struggle was easy enough to decipher if you listened to him. He sang songs of the things he saw, the things he surveyed, like Jim Morrison but without even the slight shimmer of ambiguous meaning that the latter achieved.  I’ve listened to him, I’ve sat with him upon his post under the shade of his pavilion, and I’ve spoken words to him that were reverberated back in the songs he sang and I can tell you I’ve listened to nothing, I’ve sat alone next to the surveyor, and I’ve spoken words that fell upon a parrot’s ears. If you were to have looked into his eyes you have could seen in an instant how empty he was.
     However, he led a life that was interesting to me. I was not so enthralled or lost in any intrigue of idealism as to throw my life down and follow in discipleship, but there was an aspect of his persona, some shimmer of simplicity, that struck me. I saw him first at night, rotely performing, singing to the stars perhaps. I was running, because at that time I was a runner and it seemed my obligation to fill out my station to society as such. I wondered at that time who he was singing to, and in reflection he most likely wondered who I was running from. As a general answer, he was singing to no one and there wasn’t anyone that I was running from, and so in that instant of time we might have been shaded with the same strokes of insanity had it not been for the fact that I had a destination and a goal in the mechanics of activity that I was performing. I was running towards a finish line, at some later date, at the beginning of some hazy morning. I would eventually finish and attain something, but he would always continue to sing, until some later date, until some lazy morning, and maybe he might break the song with a breathe, final but empty, silent and forgotten.
    It is only consequential to mention that I saw him for the first time while I was on a run, because it was because of this detail, that I first saw him at such a time in my life, that he peaked my interest. Running represents a primordial kind of motion for mankind. We are built for it, for the nomad life, the hunting of game, the constant movement as we stalk our prey hiding in the brush, in wait, watching. Flight is our best option; if we were meant to fight we would have claws, and sharp teeth to gnash. That is the sense of it that you get as a runner, at least if you keep at it avidly and in fear of competition as was the nature of my personal experience of the motion. And when you do not run for the hunt, and there is no danger, no fight or flight reaction, such primordial incentives are channeled, as it is against our biology to waste any resource of energy or faculty of mind, into other facets of biology, foremost in this case being intensified observation and calculation, characterized by a slight inkling of empathy. Running makes you think. His aura became apparent to me as I was gliding along the city street. It was dull, his presence, but it was captivating enough. He was captivating enough for me to wonder at his life story. Any other night I may have wrote him off as an obscurity, obviously insane to sing alone there on that stage off his with no audience, in this town. But instead, in that profane sense of mind that I was in, I became interested.
    And so I kept post with him when I found the time. Sometimes I would drum alongside him to keep the beat for the resonations of his soul, always to the tempo of the crash of the waves on the shore. Mostly I would sit in the warmth of summer and wonder if the shell of a man who made such a mellow, lifeless companion might have at one point have had goals, or had ever sang songs of meaning. I would wonder at his past; he seemed maybe to have been a soldier at one point who had seen too much of the darkness in the world to bear to continue watching. Maybe he had character back then, maybe he had sentiments and strong emotions, and maybe he had stood for something. I imagined he was worn down by the abrasiveness of his own empathy against his humanity and others sharp-edged apathy, so much so to be blank. Stark white to the relentless sun, beaten down as a mental patient lobotomized, turned into a vegetable.  I might ask him where he was going, and he might tell me home, wherever it was that he made it.
    As I continued to sit with him, I became cognizant after a time that a story was forming. The authorship I believe was a joint effort. He sang and I imagined, and the sun beat down and the waves crashed into the shore, and his memories melded into his strumming, the guitar matching closely to a joint heartbeat. It came upon us slowly, the story, but there was no rush about it. I don’t believe he was aware of it, how could he be? It might have been totally his though, and my part in it was limited. I was only there to recognize it, grope for the pieces of meaning and string them together, and when there were holes, links to be strengthened, I do believe I filled them in. But it was his story through and through, so much so that I imagined it among his sparse possessions, its pages worn-out and yellowed, forgotten in disuse as he carried it tucked into his blankets, away down the beach, his heart beating with the surf, towards home.

title: marK: Foreword to the Story of a Broken Man

question: What might have happened if the narrator chose another running route, running schedule, or chose not to run at all?

answer: He wouldn't witness and become interested in the life of the man singing in the pavilion.

question: What made the narrator assume that the man was a soldier?

answer: It seemed to the narrator that the man could've been a soldier. The narrator thinks that the man had seen too much of the darkness in the world at one point during his time in the military and couldn't bear to continue watching.


text:
“Goodbye”, a clear and unmistakeable message. Albeit no more meaningful in the broad spectrum of human existence than any other word in the English language. What was it about this particular word that made Mark Coleridge decide it to be his final assertion in life? Surely there existed other, more meaningful, less succinct choices within this young man’s vocabulary? Yet, it was this, a singularly simple form of farewell, that was to be his final utterance upon a perpetually spinning, green Earth. To be certain, it was a “goodbye” punctuated by a single gunshot which ended the life of one Mark Coleridge, aged 25 years.

I saw the entire sequence of events unfold from my office window, overlooking the square. The once tranquil sea of people became a frenzied mob. Spectators were running this way and that way, while a group of policemen, who had been standing just a few meters away from the gunshot, rushed in to assess the situation. To say that the gunshot had not startled me would be to tell a grave untruth. Indeed, although I been surveying the crowd for anything remotely interesting to take my mind off of the monotony of the endless paperwork, the last thing I expected was to see what would became my next and final case unfold right in front of my very eyes. My eyes had been following a young man who was by my estimate, no older than thirty but could not have been any younger than twenty-three . It had been his bright blond hair which had caught my attention. Hair so bright that it was like a lighthouse, guiding the ships of my eyes away from the rocks of his darker haired neighbours and towards his beckoning presence.

Just before the gunshot there had been a fierce wind, as if the tragedy that is human death was borne aloft upon its ephemeral wings. I could tell by the great display of flags which provided a backdrop to the day’s hectic events. But as I now type out how the sequence of events did unfold and reveal themselves to me that day I cannot help but think, that the wind was meaningless, just another random occurrence in the day-to-day events that led to where I am now. This young man, whom I had been following with my eyes for a good five minutes, started at the fringes of the crowd and slowly weaved his way to the centre by the fountain which gushed forth the waters of anticipation. Like an ant he was, meandering, twisting, and dodging in and out of a wave of people. When he reached a location which was pleasing to his volition, this was on the ledge of the fountain, situated in the centre of the square. He paused for a few moments, seemingly reflecting on all that was good with the world.

Even through the glass of my office window, I could tell that something heavy was weighing down upon his mind. I could feel the sweat dripping down from his forehead and onto his shaking hands. It was then that he suddenly stood up, procuring from his pocket, a magnum revolver, with which he jammed the muzzle underneath his chin, which I could see was shiny with the perspiration of one whose fate now lay within the cold steel barrel of an imported American pistol. I do not remember whether it was the sound of the gunshot at which I jumped or whether it was the sight of this young man, who, in the prime of his youth, seemingly had so much to live for, being blown into oblivion by a small fragment of lead, now ingrained firmly and permanently into his mangled skull.
I watched for another hour, I cannot remember the exact time that I remained beside my window. Perhaps it was in some benign tribute to the fallen man that I lingered; Or perhaps I was simply curious as to what would happen next - I had never seen a suicide before. It was when the ambulance came to collect his body that I finally turned away from the window. The sun was setting low over the buildings which faced the square opposite my own. It was then with a sigh that I  thought how much of a terrible tragedy the day’s events had witnessed. And then, it was with a greater sigh that I returned to finish the last of the paperwork which lay sprawled before me on the desk.

I took the bus home. The sun was saying its final farewells to the world before it suddenly vanished in a ball of flame. I observed all of this on the bus ride home and fleetingly thought that the sun was just like that young man I had witnessed in the square. The only difference being that the sun was sure to rise again, unlike the young man, whose only certainty lay with him in a newly-dug grave. But I thought no more of it as the bus pulled up next to the curb and opened its doors to let myself and several other passengers out. It was my stop, you see and waiting for me at the bus-stop were my lovely wife, Susan, and my two kids, Isaac and Mary. They smiled at me. “How was work, daddy?” my youngest, Mary, sweetly inquired. “Oh,” my mind drifted back to the young man in the bright blonde hair. How innocent he had seemed when I first laid my eyes on him through the office window. “It was certainly interesting, Mary, my dear.” Isaac, my eldest child, who was perpetually adding on inane questions to perfectly reasonable ones, piped up “in what way it was interesting, Daddy?” My eyes flashed daggers of annoyance through my glasses, although none of my family was perceptive enough to notice. “Daddy had a lot of paperwork that was supposed to go to a very important man.” I replied, so nonchalantly, that not a trace of my annoyance revealed itself to my family. We rounded the corner of the street and approached our little terraced house. “Come inside, dear” my wife lilted, “I have dinner on the table waiting for you.” As the smell of freshly baked potato wafted through my nostrils all previous thoughts of the young blonde-haired man disappeared as promptly as the setting sun did not but a little while ago.

title: Chapter 1 of my first novel. Reddit go easy on me!

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: An unnamed man

question: What did the narrator see from his office?

answer: The suicide of Mark Coleridge

question: Why did Mark Coleridge kill himself?

answer: It is unclear why he killed himself.

question: How did the narrator feel witnessing the suicide?

answer: He was shaken up by it.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: A man is working from his office when he witnesses a man shoot himself from his window. The man is shaken up, as the man who killed himself seemed very young. He takes the bus home and ponders on the short life of the man. He arrives home to his family, and forgets the whole ordeal.


text:
The Story

It was only a matter of time before the worst Yellow Lantern of them all returned! Mongul was so evil he had to be taken down, but now he’s back! And that’s the last thing Sinestro needs as a rescue mission to find more Korugarian exiles leads straight to the growing threat of the Paling. Introducing the new art team of Brad Walker and Andrew Hennessy (GREEN LANTERN: NEW GUARDIANS).

The Free DC Comic Download

SINESTRO #009 FREE DOWNLOAD
LANGUAGE : English | YEAR : 2015 | SIZE : 40 MB

SCREENSHOTS :

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NOTES :

-   If you have any difficulties to download the files, please refer to this how-to download page.
-   All of the comic files are packed on .CBR and/or .CBZ file formats. Here are some of the reader apps that i can recommend : YAC Reader (Win, OSX, Linux, iOS), ComicRack (Win, Android, iOS), CDisplayEx.
-   To extract any compressed files, I recommend using 7-Zip.
-   If you encounter any broken links or corrupt files, please write on the comment section or message me through the contact form.
-   Want to see all the comic list? Please go to this page.

[The Comic Guy]

The Comic Guy is an admin for GetComics.Info website.

-   -

question: What is this?

answer: A summary of the story for a free digital DC comic: "Green Lantern: New Guardians", and the instructions for how to acquire the file.

question: What is "Green Lantern: New Guardians" about?

answer: The return of Mongul, the worst Yellow Lantern.

question: What devices and platforms can download the comic?

answer: For devices: PCs, MACs, and smartphones. Supported platforms are Windows, Linux, OSX, iOS, and Android.

question: When was this released?

answer: The comic was published in 2015.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A volume of DC comic Green Lantern: New Guardians can be downloaded on various platforms for free. The story is about the return of the worst Yellow Lantern, Mongul.


text:
GENERAL ELECTIONS were held in the Turks and Caicos Islands on 29 September 1976.[1] Although the Progressive National Organisation (PNO) received the most votes, the People's Democratic Movement (PDM) emerged as the largest party in the Legislative Council, winning five of the eleven seats.[2] Following the elections, the PDM formed a coalition government with the two independents, with PDM leader James Alexander George Smith McCartney becoming the first Chief Minister of the islands.

Background

The PNO and PDM were both formed shortly before the elections. The PDM had its roots in the Junkanoo Club youth organisation formed in 1976, but was only formed in early 1976.[3] The PNO was formed in the same year by members of the State Council.[4]

Electoral system

The eleven members of the Legislative Council were elected from single-member constituencies.[5]

Campaign

A total of 23 candidates contested the elections, with the new PNO contesting all 11 seats, the PDM running in eight seats. The other four candidates were independents.[6]

Results

[1] General Election Results - 29 September 1976 Caribbean Elections

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: 1976 Turks and Caicos Islands general election

question: How many seats are on the Turks and Caicos Legislative Council?

answer: There are eleven seats on the Turks and Caicos Legislative Council.

question: Who had the most votes in the 1976 Turks and Caicos election?

answer: The Progressive National Organisation received the most votes in the Turks and Caicos election of 1976.

question: Who won the most seats in the 1976 Turks and Caicos election?

answer: The People's Democratic Movement won the most seats in the 1976 Turks and Caicos election, winning five of the eleven seats.

question: How many candidates were involved in the 1976 Turks and Caicos election?

answer: There were 23 candidates competing in the 1976 Turks and Caicos election.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The 1976 Turks and Caicos election consisted of 23 candidates representing two main parties and four independents. The People's Democratic Movement won the most seats but the Progressive National Organisation received the most votes. The leader of the People's Democratic Movement, James Alexander George Smith McCartney, became the first Chief Minister of Turks and Caicos.