text:
ORLÉANIST () was a 19th-century French political label originally used by those who supported a constitutional monarchy, expressed by the House of Orléans.[1] Due to the radical political changes that occurred during that century in France, three different phases of Orléanism can be identified:

-   The “pure” Orléanism: constituted by those who supported the constitutional reign of Louis Philippe I (18301848), and showed liberal and moderate ideas.
-   The “fusionist” Orléanism: the movement formed by pure Orléanists and Legitimists (nicknamed “Whites from Eu”) who after the death of Henri, Count of Chambord in 1883, endorsed Philippe, Count of Paris, grandson of Louis Philippe, as his successor.[2] After the fusion, the movement was driven to more conservative stances.
-   The “progressive” Orléanism: the majority of “fusionists” who, after the decline of monarchist sentiment in the 1890s, joined into moderate republicans, who showed progressive and secular-minded goals, or into Catholic rally, like the Liberal Action.

It was opposed by the two other monarchist trends: the Bonapartism, that supported Napoleon’s legacy and heirs, and the Legitimism, that was loyal to the traditional monarchy of the House of Bourbon after 1830.

Under the July Monarchy

[Louis Philippe portrait by Winterhalter]

On 26 July 1830, the revolution of the so-called Three Glorious Days (or July Revolution) erupted due to the authoritarian and anti-Gallican tendencies showed by Charles X and his Prime Minister Jules de Polignac, expressed by the recently approved Saint-Cloud Ordinances.[3][4] Despite the abdication of Charles X and the Dauphin Louis in favor to Charles X's grandson Henri, Duke of Bordeaux, on 2 August 1830, only seven days later Louis Philippe I, still Duke of Orléans, was elected by the Chamber of Deputies as new “King of the French”.[5] The enthronement of Louis Philippe was strongly wanted by _Doctrinaires_, the liberal opposition to Charles X's ministries, under the concept “nationalize the monarchy and royalize France”.[6] On 14 August 1830, the Chamber approved a new Constitution, who became the _de facto_ political manifesto for the Orléanists, containing the basis for a constitutional monarchy with a central Parliament. The Orléanism, became the dominant tendency within political life, easily divided inside the Chamber of Deputies between the centre-left of Adolphe Thiers[7] and the centre-right of François Guizot. Louis Philippe showed himself more aligned with Guizot, entrusted to the higher offices of government, and rapidly became associated with the rising “new men” of the banks, industries and finance,[8] gaining the epithet of “_Roi bourgeois_”.[9] In the early 1840s, Louis Philippe's popularity decreased, due to his strong connection to upper classes and repression against workers' strikes, and showed few concerns for his weakened position, leading the writer Victor Hugo to describe him as “a men with many little qualities”.[10] The Orléanist regime finally fell in 1848, when a revolution erupted and on 24 February Louis Philippe abdicated in favor to his grandson Philippe, Count of Paris, under regency of his mother Helene, Duchess of Orléans, who was quickly ousted out from the Chamber of Deputies during the regency's formalization, who was interrupted by republican deputies who instead proclaimed the Second Republic.

After 18 years of reign, Louis Philippe left the Orléanist base well-defined inside the magistrature, the press, universities and academies, especially the _Académie française_. However, also some great aristocratic families joined the court, like the Dukes of Broglie,[11] as well former Bonapartist officers like the Marshal Soult and Édouard Mortier. This establishment constituted the majority of the Party of Order, led by Thiers, who represented the conservatives and monarchists under the Second Republic.[12]

Under the Third Republic

Fusion and restoration project

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| Electoral results                                                     |
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| Year                                                                  |
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| National Assembly                                                     |
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| 1871                                                                  |
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| Chamber of Deputies                                                   |
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| 1876                                                                  |
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| 1877                                                                  |
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| 1881                                                                  |
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| 1885                                                                  |
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| 1889                                                                  |
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| 1893                                                                  |
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| 1898                                                                  |
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[The Duke of Orléans, son of the Count of Paris, espoused conservative stances, also reviving the Order of the Holy Spirit to support his claim.[13]]

The Orléanism revived after the French defeat in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, that caused the fall of the Second Empire, succeeded to the Second Republic by Napoleon III, former President of France enthroned after the coup d'état of 1851. The Second Empire was succeeded itself officially in 1871 by the Third Republic. A National Assembly, composed by 638 on 778 seats, was formed and new elections were called for the 8 February of the same year, which resulted in a victory for the monarchist rights: 396 seats won, divided to 214 Orléanists and 182 Legitimists, nicknamed “cavalrymen”.[14] Initially divided about the dynastic issue, the Orléanists found a compromise with the Legitimists, supporting the rights of Henri, Count of Chambord (former Duke of Bordeaux, currently childless) in return of the recognition of the Count of Paris as his heir, echoing an 1862 statement of Chambord.[15] Although Chambord never mentioned the Count of Paris as his heir, probably fearing the defection of his ultraconservative supporters,[16] the informal agreement sanctioned the “fusion” of Legitimists and Orléanists, who quite easily formed a conservative coalition. The monarchist majority, led by the Duke of Aumale (son of Louis Philippe), and the centre-left endorsed the centre-right candidate Thiers as President of the Republic, but due to the continue arguments between Legitimists and Orléanists and the memory about the dynastic divisions of the past 40 years, Thiers moved to support a “conservative republic” instead a divided monarchy.[17]

Due to Chambord's dislike toward Aumale, the “fusionists” rapidly passed under the leadership of the Duke of Broglie, who in 1873 successfully managed the election of President Patrice de MacMahon, former general and national hero who showed Legitimist sympathies, considering him as a kind of “lieutenant-general of the kingdom” before the fully restoration of Chambord on the throne.[18] Broglie was shortly after awarded with the premiership by Mac Mahon, supported by monarchists and the centre-right. Restoration appeared imminent when a parliamentary commission was established in October 1873 to adopt a monarchist constitution. But in the same month the majority was weakened by the refusal of Chambord to accept the French Tricolour, used since 1830, preferring instead the return of the royal white flag, symbol of the Ancien Régime. The question was apparently resolved with a compromise between Broglie and Chambord: the last will accept the tricolour flag while a future agreement about a new flag will be considered. In October the majority was shocked when the centre-right representative Charles Savary rashly misinformed the press of Chambord's full acceptance of the tricolour flag,. The pretender had to harshly clarify his position, causing the left of the centre-right, Orléanists disappointment and the dissolution of the “restoration” commission on 31 October 1873. A last attempt by Chambord was made on 12 November, when he asked President MacMahon via the Duke of Blacas to join with him into the National Assembly and spoke toward the representatives, hoping to convince them to restore the monarchy, but MacMahon refused due to his institutional position, toward he was formally even if not ideologically attached, causing the project's failure.[19] Due to the impossibility to restore the monarchy in a short time, the Orléanists waited the death of the sickly Chambord, occurred in 1883, but by that time, enthusiasm for a monarchy had faded, and as a result the Count of Paris was never offered the French throne.[20]

The monarchists, however, still controlled the National Assembly, and under MacMahon's partisan presidency they launched the so-called “moral order government”, in reference to the bloody suppression of the Paris Commune, whose political and social innovations were viewed as morally degenerate by large conservative segments of the French population.[21] In February 1875, a series of parliamentary acts established the constitutional laws of the new republic. At its head was a President of the Republic. A two-chamber parliament consisting of a directly elected Chamber of Deputies and an indirectly-elected Senate was created, along with a ministry under the President of the council (prime minister), who was nominally answerable to both the President of the Republic and the legislature. Throughout the 1870s, the issue of whether a monarchy should replace the republic dominated public debate. On 16 May 1877, with public opinion swinging heavily in favour of a republic after the election of March, President MacMahon made one last desperate attempt to salvage the monarchical cause by dismissing the “conservative republican” prime minister Jules Simon and appointing the Duke of Broglie to office. He then dissolved parliament and called a general election for the following October. If his hope had been to halt the move towards republicanism, it backfired spectacularly, with the president being accused of having staged a constitutional coup d'état known as “16 May Crisis” after the date on which it happened. Republicans returned triumphantly after the October elections for the Chamber of Deputies. The crisis ultimately sealed the defeat of the royalist movement, and was instrumental in creating the conditions of the longevity of the Third Republic:[22] in January 1879 the Republicans gained control of the Senate, formerly monopolized by monarchists. MacMahon himself resigned on 30 January 1879, leaving a seriously weakened presidency in the hands of Jules Grévy, leader of the Republican Left.[23][24]

The end of the presidency Mac Mahon and the Senate's loss caused the end of the monarchist bloc. Although there were Orléanist deputies in the Chamber for all the 19th century, they were only a minority. At the end, many monarchists accepted the republic, moving toward the centre. Some Orléanists, especially from their _bourgeoise_ core base, accepted the republic even since the 1870s, like Thiers and press baron Émile de Girardin. In 1892, after Pope Leo XIII's approval to the Third Republic, breaking the historical alliance between Church and Crown,[25] some monarchists led by Orléanist Jacques Piou and Legitimist Albert de Mun formed the group of the “_ralliés_” (“supporters”), that in 1901 constituted the base of the first Christian Democratic party in France, the Liberal Action,[26] while many other royalists were still attached to the Crown.

Association with the far-right

[Charles Maurras in 1937] The elections of 1898 confirmed the exclusion of the monarchists from any possible government. However, 4 years earlier, the Dreyfus affair shook public opinion, dividing the republican camp: socialists, radicals and liberals defended the innocence of Dreyfus,[27] while other republicans joined the nationalists and monarchists against Dreyfus.[28] The election also introduced 10 overtly anti-Semitic representatives, led by Édouard Drumont.[29] The following year, on 20 June 1899, the academic Henri Vaugeois and journalist Maurice Pujo founded the nationalist association _Action française_, initially absent of any specific ideology. However, the _Action_ was joined by many Catholics and monarchists who were anti-Dreyfus, contributing to the move of the association toward the right. Particularly, the adhesion of Charles Maurras, considered a “pragmatic” anti-Dreyfusard rather than a true anti-Semite,[30] contributed to the creation of the ideology of the _Action_, which rapidly became the main monarchist group. Maurras, despite becoming the movement's ideologist, supported not a classical monarchy on religious term (divine right) but a positivist one, stating that a monarchy would grant more order and stability than a parliamentary republic. The largest group of French monarchists, after the death of Chambord in 1883, endorsed the Count of Paris until his death in 1894, recognizing the claim of his son Philippe, Duke of Orléans, who was also supported by the _Action_. However, monarchism inside the _Action_ was always integrated secondary to its semi-official ideology of “integral nationalism” theorized by Maurras,[31] and many _Action_ activists were still republicans, like the founder Vaugeois. The movement grew to be one of the largest organizations in France, but in 1926 a condemnation from Pope Pius XI against the _Action_ caused the defection of many Catholic sympathizers. The Pope judged that it was folly for the French Church to continue to tie its fortunes to the unlikely dream of a monarchist restoration, and distrusted the movement's tendency to defend the Catholic religion in merely utilitarian and nationalistic terms,[32] and the _Action Française_ never recovered from the condemnation.[33]

By 1934, the _Action_ was still a considerable force, with over 60,000 members across France.[34] In that year, they joined other far-right leagues on 6 February demonstrations against political corruption and the Parliament, causing the resignation of Prime Minister Édouard Daladier the day after and provoking fear of a nationalist coup d'état.[35] The papal condemnation, the aggressive tactics, and Maurras's disrespectful attitude toward constitutional monarchists finally ended the organization as a major power. The Orléanist pretender Jean, Duke of Guise, who in 1937 broken ties with the _Action_, also lost many supporters. From this moment, Orléanism ceased to be associated with the _Action_ or the far-right. Instead, the Duke of Guise's son and heir Henri, Count of Paris, launched his own magazine _Courier Royale_ and secretly dealt with anti-fascist conservative General La Rocque, leader of the French Social Party, about the possibility of a restoration.[36]

Hope during the Fourth Republic

[Front page of Courier 50 announcing the end of the exile of Orléans] In 1946, the Count of Paris (who succeeded his father in 1940) moved to Portugal due to the ban against former royals still present in France. Due to the unstable situation of the Fourth Republic, characterized like its predecessor by short governments and a high presence of parties, the Count of Paris made a serious attempt to restore the monarchy. He endorsed the Christian Democratic Popular Republican Movement (MPR), and formed a kind of political committee composed by academics Bertrand de Jouvenel, Gustave Thibon and Michel de Saint Pierre, publishing on 5 February 1948 the manifesto _Esquisse d'une constitution monarchique et démocratique_, promoting the idea of a constitutional monarchy. Thanks to the MPR deputy Paul Hutin-Desgrées (co-founder of _Ouest-France_), the exile law was abrogated on 24 June 1950, permitting the return of the Count of Paris to the capital, meeting also President Vincent Auriol. The Count and his family took their home in the Parisian suburbs of Louveciennes, gaining quick fastly the media's attention. Orléans took frequently parties and meetings, attended by prominent politicians of the Fourth Republic, such as Antoine Pinay, Jacques Soustelle, Pierre Mendès France and Maurice Schumann. Through his newsletter _Courier 50_, the Count of Paris expressed supports for the policies of Mendès France, like the peace in Indochina, the refusal of a US-controlled European Defence Community (EDC) and decolonization of French Africa.

Orléans relationship with Charles de Gaulle was also promising, like the general and the pretender had similar political views and were both devout Catholics. When De Gaulle became Prime Minister in 1958, it was expected by the Count of Paris to restore the monarchy, but instead De Gaulle preferred strengthen the republican institutions, eventually driving to the establishment of the present-day Fifth Republic. De Gaulle was elected president in 1959, and seem to have been promised to the Count of Paris that he wouldn't run again for the election of 1965, instead supporting the candidacy of the pretender that would promote a reform for change the republic to a constitutional monarchy.[37] However, in 1963 De Gaulle confided to his minister Alain Peyrefitte that, despite his respect and esteem for the Count of Paris, he never considered him as his successor to the presidency, stating that the idea of a monarchy was out of time.[38] Disappointed by the false hopes and promises, the Count of Paris retired from political life in 1967, ending also the publications of his newsletter.

Legacy

The Orléanist party, despite the different regimes, maintained its _bourgeois_ platform, constituted by those academics, journalists and financiers who backed Louis Philippe during his reign, and was intended as the liberal centre of politics, far from reactionary Legitimists and revolutionary republicans.[39][40] However, for all the span of Louis Philippe's reign, the Orléanists were not a homogeneous party, but simply the majority who supported the constitutional system. It was only after the establishment of the Second French Republic in 1848 and the division inside right-wing factions over the monarchy that the Orléanist party found unity, supporting a parliamentary system instead of an executive one.

In the early 20th century, the majority of Orléanists accepted the republican institutions, approving the parliamentary system and pro-business policy realized by the republican majority, who reflected the historical Orléanist purposes. French historian René Rémond included the presidency of Valéry Giscard d'Estaing as part of the Orléanist tradition, due to his liberal views and equidistance from the nationalist right (descending from Bonapartism) and the conservative right (from Legitimism).[41] The term “Orléanist parliamentarism” was also used by jurist and sociologist Maurice Duverger to define the form of government of the Fifth Republic, which presents a parliamentary system with a powerful head of state.[42]

In 1974, before the presidential election, the New Royal Action (NAR), born by a moderate faction spilled from the _Action française_, endorsed Bertrand Renouvin for the presidency, with the purpose of restoring a constitutional monarchy led by Orléans, followed by centrist and liberal positions on other issues. Renouvin gained only 43,722 votes (0.17%).

Bibliography

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

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

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[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22] Brogan (1940) pp. 127–43.

[23]

[24]

[25]

[26]

[27]

[28]

[29]

[30]

[31]

[32]

[33]

[34]

[35]

[36]

[37]

[38]

[39]

[40]

[41]

[42]

title: Orléanist

question: What is the earliest form of Orléanism?

answer: "Pure" Orléanism was the first form established, from which the fusionist and progressive types then developed.

question: Describe Louis Philippe.

answer: Louis Philippe is the French constitutional monarch whose supporters formed the political label 'Orléanist'

question: Who was opposed to Orléanism?

answer: Bonapartists and Legitimists, who supported Napoleon and the House of Bourbon respectively, as well as anti-monarchists.

question: How long was Orléanism prominent in French politics?

answer: From Louis Philippe's reign, starting in 1830, to a final mention in the passage in 1974, so about 114 years.


split: train

text:
This is only a part of either a short story, or a novel i have recently started working on. I hope you enjoy, and i love criticism, hit me with it :D

The cave was full of darkness. It clung to every crack and crevice. Black shadows upon black stones. Ériu did not think that this obscure darkness could be any colder, any more uninviting. But it was. It tore into her skin with a terrifying velocity, like black tendrils lashing her skin. Ériu was out picking vegetables and fruit like she had always done. Basket in hand and off she would trot, the gentle warmth of summer springing her step as she filled her basket with juicy strawberries and those sweet, crunchy apples mother would sometimes bake into apple pies. But there was no apple pie here, no warmth, no light, only darkness and her sad thoughts to keep her company.
How could this happen to her, it was a normal day, only she had wandered into this cave. She had never seen it before and wanted to explore the inside. She cursed her stupid curiosity, because of it, she was lost. From what she could remember, she was deep inside the cave, having slid her way down a hill of muck and tumbling rocks when the sensation began to overcome her. It stiffened her entire body and crept along her skin, slicing into her muscles and tendons, instantly rendering her nothing more than a conscious rock, much like the cold, hard rock walls that surrounded her. Only they were inanimate and dead. Before she completely blacked out, the manipulative effect had invaded her nerves, sending millions of tiny electric shocks all over her body. Every toe, every finger vibrated with a burning intensity. Tears fell from her twinkling eyes, splashing her knees as she thought about the feeling.

No, she thought, this is not the end. She grabbed one of the soggy apples that scattered the cave floor and took a huge bite out of it, ripping it almost in half. Juice dribbled down her chin.
If it was to be her demise, she would not die hungry. She devoured three more apples greedily before taking many deep breaths to calm her quivering torso. Ériu felt her way up the spiky rock wall, hand pushed hard into the slick rock to steady her own legs, still weak from the shocks that had made her pass out. She yearned for her own bed, and the soft kisses her mother would place on her forehead every night. That thought seemed to instil hope in the young girl, but Ériu knew better than to hope. Hope wouldn’t save her life, only action would. What need her of hope when she was encased in this black prison. This abyss was terminal.

There was no way of telling where she was going; she had no sense of direction or position. She could not even tell which way was forward, and which way was back. Soon, she let the darkness guide her, trusting in her instincts rather than letting fear grip hold of her, exactly what mother had always taught her to do. The sweeping abyss seemed to swallow her more as she edged her way along the cold crevice, opening up unto a beyond which seemed to swallow her more the further she walked. By now, she had quickened her pace, and was no longer scurrying along the wall like some terrified beetle. Her fingers brushed against the cave wall as she moved briskly through the darkness. She felt as if she was going to slam face first into a wall at any second, but she kept on moving, she had no intention of stopping, the only thing she had left was her ability to move and she put it to good use, walking in a straight line, seeking an end that was no more in sight than her own hand in front of her face.

Then she saw it… A dim orange glow flickered in the distance. In the darkness, it looked like Ériu was peering at lava through the tip of a needle, for some reason, she smiled when she gazed upon it. The light flickered and danced in her vision, being the first thing to tickle her senses, it sent her brain into overdrive, causing the strange hue to morph and grow, igniting into colours she never seen before. Her vision seemed to swarm with dancing images and shapes inconceivable to her young mind. Quickly, her eyes began to adjust to the warm glow of the mesmerising light and she became obsessed with it. Ériu was drawn towards not only the light, but the company light brings in the lonely despair of darkness. Suddenly, she felt hopeful again, this light would bring her home, back to mother and the warm log fire that Ériu loved nothing more than to curl up beside, feeling the warm tickle of the flame on her feet.

The ember glow was not far, and the next thing she knew, she was sprinting towards it, her face etched with a lolling smile.

Her smile melted into a wide-eyed gape when she saw what was producing the light.

A small, burning orb, about the size of a large orange hung low in the murky air. It seemed to emanate with moxie and an animated vigour as Ériu gazed, awestruck at the sight before her. She had never seen anything like this before, nor could she ever hope to again, surely she was the first person to see something like this?

“Hello,” whispered Ériu in her soft rural tone.

Soft as her voice was, it was not strong, and strength is what she needed right now.

“Hello!” she repeated. This time however, her voice was loud and clear, cutting through the shuddersome silence that engulfed the cave.
“Can you help me get home?”

Ériu nearly jumped twenty feet in the air when she heard the orb exhale with a low humming noise. Almost like a sighing bear, nestling in to hibernate out the winter. Her heart pounded even harder in her chest when the orb began to slowly drift forward. Ériu followed dutifully, her eyes fixed on the effervescent sphere of energy. Both orb and girl quickened their pace, until Ériu was tearing after the leering ball, like a child after sweets. This time, she did not care about what was ahead, or behind her, only the light and comforting heat of the xanthic orb.

Ériu let out an ear-piercing wail as colour and light exploded upon her vision. She was brought to her knees by a relentless barrage of senses the moment she emerged from the void of the hollow.

She could not believe her own two eyes as to what she was seeing before her. This was not home…This was nowhere she had ever seen before.

title: Ériu - The Spirit Princess

question: Why does Eriu scream?

question: What does Eriu eat?

answer: She eats some apples she brought in the cave

question: Where does the story take place?

answer: Inside a dark cave

question: Who does Eriu talk to in the cave?

answer: She talks to someone she believes is in the cave.

question: Where does the light come from?

answer: A magical orb of light approaches her.

question: Does Eriu leave the cave?

answer: She is transported to a new place by the light.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Eriu ventures into a cave out of curiosity. It is very dark and she stumbles and becomes lost. She's afraid she's going to die when she sees some light coming from another tunnel. She calls out to anyone who can hear her. A magical orb of light approaches her and transports her to a new place.


text:
Now, I have only completed the plan/draft for the story. I'm putting it up for any feedback, whether it be the harsh truth or a supportive comment. -R.Walker

Ron Walker had lived his life as a somewhat normal boy until his mid-teens when he falls desperately in love with a rather attractive foreign girl named: Adry Ekeriah. Adry was one of those girls that were very attractive but weren't all too popular among the 'cool kids' of school and very invested into her family. Being the most beautiful girl that Ron had ever laid eyes on, he instantly grew feelings for this girl and being the Ron had never loved nor been loved by anyone else before the feelings festered inside him and took him over.  So for the reminder of his lat year at school, Ron failed most of his subjects and put 99% of his attention on Adry. He would send the girl flowers and cards anonymously, he saw that she smiled every time she received one his gifts so he continued to send them for some time. And although Ron failed his education, he was still smart, he knew not to go to over the top with the gifts and kept a fair distance, but close enough to keep a watchful eye on her at all time. Summer break came along and Ron made his best effort to follow Adry's every move, he would time his walks so that he purposely met Adry along the way to make small talk every once in a while. Until Ron grew a small friendship with Adry and he was invited to a party that she was going to, Ron made the mistake of accepting her invitation.
     Ron planned out what and how he was going to act like at this party for the the week running up to it. But come the night of the party, Ron's plan went to shit. Like always he timed his arrival perfectly so that he and Adry walk in together, Ron knew that some people would find this to be as if they were getting closer than friends. Now Ron, in a foolish attempt to impress Adry took a challenge to down as much alcohol as he could, as well as no feeling love for the first 16 years of his life, he had never been drunk either so he didn't know what his limit was either. After what Adry deemed as too much drink she intervened by retracting Ron from his glass, Ron was now incoherent so he tried to get his drink back, but not after Adry looked him in the eye and sat him down on the sofa. Before Adry could walk away, Ron grabbed her by the hand and told her that he was the one sending her gifts and admitted his love for her and started ranting on about how his mother's death and living with his Step-Father has affected him and how lucky Adry was to have a full family that cares for her, pretty much giving her his life story in drunken exaggeration. Adry then, with feelings of surprise, confusion and sympathy wrapped her arms around Ron while he returned the gesture with unknowingly, too much force.

Still unfinished, but reading it back, it seems like it would make for a better TV series than a short story/book(s). Again, any feedback is appreciated - R.Walker

title: Currently untitled, up for discussion.

question: Why didn't Ron ask Adry out?

answer: He was intimidated by her beauty and popularity.

question: What is Ron's faux pas at the party?

answer: He gets way too drunk.

question: What does he do when he's drunk?

answer: He professes his love and rants about personal family stuff.

question: What is Ron's final bad move?

answer: He accepts her sympathy hug and returns it too aggressively.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Ron is a smart but not academically-inclined guy who has harbored a crush on a popular, gorgeous girl named Adry. He thinks she's out of his league but he sends her gifts and watches her from afar. A small friendship grows and she invites him to a party. There, Ron makes the mistake of getting incoherently inebriated, and then he not only reveals his feelings for her, but also tells her his life story. When she hugs him in a gesture of sympathy, he returns the hug aggressively.


text:
[[File:Joseph Kopp.jpg|right|thumb|

Joseph Kopp (lithograph)

]] JOSEPH KOPP (16 November 1788, in Sommerau – 7 July 1842, in Erlangen) was a German classical philologist.

He attended the lyceum in Munich as a pupil of Christian Friedrich Wilhelm Jacobs, and from 1810 to 1812 studied philology at the University of Heidelberg, where his teachers included August Böckh and Georg Friedrich Creuzer. Afterwards, he worked as schoolteacher in Munich, and in 1819 was named a professor of history and second director of the philological seminar at the lyceum. In 1827 he was appointed professor of philology at the University of Erlangen, where he became a good friend and colleague of orientalist Friedrich Rückert.[1][2]

Published works

He was not a prolific author of books, his best known literary effort being an edition of Damascius, titled _Damascii philosophi Platonici Quaestiones de primis principiis_ (1826). In 1831–34 he published a number of reviews on the editions of Aristotelian books, on works of Oriental literature, on the history of philosophy, etc. He was also the author of an unfinished Aristotelian lexicon.[3] In 1888 novelist Fritz Reuter published _Friedrich Rückert in Erlangen und Joseph Kopp. Nach Familienpapieren dargestellt zum hundertjährigen Geburtstag des Dichters_ (“Friedrich Rückert in Erlangen and Joseph Kopp. According to family papers presented to the centennial birthday of the poet”).[4]

[1] Karl Felix Halm: ADB:Kopp, Joseph In: Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie (ADB). Band 16, Duncker & Humblot, Leipzig 1882, S. 683–685.

[2] Nomenclator philologorum by Friedrich August Eckstein

[3]

[4] Friedrich Rückert in Erlangen und Joseph Kopp HathiTrust Digital Library

title: Joseph Kopp

question: What is a lyceum?

answer: the article does not answer this question

question: What is philology?

answer: the article does not answer this question

question: What language did Joseph Kopp write in?

answer: Latin

question: When did Joseph Kopp become a professor?

answer: 1819

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Joseph Kopp was a German classical philologist in the first half of the nineteenth century.


text:
_Libyan oil production drops from 1.4 million barrels per day to less than 160,000, as tribal conflict threatens to escalate into all out civil war._

[]Aaron Dykes
ACTIVIST POST

As the Syrian war crisis looms, and the repercussions of putting a “rebel” mercenary army aligned with al Qaeda into power while simultaneously antagonizing Iran, Russia and other world powers waits to play out, it is important to note what has become of Libya – in many ways a twin model for regime change that nevertheless pales in comparison to the potential for ousting the Assad regime to blowback hard on the United States.

Taking out Col. Gaddafi for the cause of ‘democracy’ and ‘Western liberalism’ at the cost of putting al Qaeda-aligned “rebel” factions into power ultimately cost considerable political capital, a little over a billion dollars and the lives of U.S. Ambassador Chris Stevens and three other Americans via the Benghazi affair. Numerous civilians were killed and countless Libyans displaced, while a once modern and prosperous North African country rich in oil, gold and other resources was wrecked.

Take a look at these startling photos before and after the 2011 NATO campaign:

[]

[]

Now Libya threatens to inflame a civil war over political control for territory and oil and prolonged factional/tribal fighting, as it descends into chaos, lawlessness and ruin.

According to the London Independent, Libya has plunged unnoticed into its worst political and economic crisis since the defeat of Gaddafi. Patrick Cockburn writes:

  Libya has almost entirely stopped producing oil as the government loses control of much of the country to militia fighters.

  Mutinying security men have taken over oil ports on the Mediterranean and are seeking to sell crude oil on the black market. Ali Zeidan, Libya’s Prime Minister, has threatened to “bomb from the air and the sea” any oil tanker trying to pick up the illicit oil from the oil terminal guards, who are mostly former rebels who overthrew Muammar Gaddafi and have been on strike over low pay and alleged government corruption since July.

  […]

  In an escalating crisis little regarded hitherto outside the oil markets, output of Libya’s prized high-quality crude oil has plunged from 1.4 million barrels a day earlier this year to just 160,000 barrels a day now. Despite threats to use military force to retake the oil ports, the government in Tripoli has been unable to move effectively against striking guards and mutinous military units that are linked to secessionist forces in the east of the country.

Moreover, in the wake of the murder of Chris Stevens and fallout over the politics of his death, Libya has seen heightened violence and targeted assassinations, including that of military prosecutor in Libya, Col. Yussef Ali al-Asseifar, killed on August 29, who had been overseeing investigations into political assassinations against leaders and journalists.

About a month ago, some1,000-1,200 prisonersescaped Libyan jails, coinciding with major prison breaks in Iraq and Pakistan, prompting new terror warnings and expected surges in al Qaeda forces. At the same time, at least 19 prisoners have been shot or injured in jail, with one prisonerclaiming detainees were being shot at through the bars while being held without charge.

[]A weak Muslim Brotherhood government holds titular power while tribal groups volley for power. The Independent reports that “a war between two Libyan tribes, the Zawiya and the Wirrshifana, is going on just 15 miles from the Prime Minister’s office” while convoys for diplomats as well as embassies from Europe have been reportedly shot at or targeted. the diplomatic presence by France and other European powers has been targeted.

“We are currently witnessing the collapse of state in Libya, and the country is getting closer to local wars for oil revenues,” a Swiss oil analyst company called Petromatrix claimed in a Guardian report, while noting the “watchful eye” of BP, Shell and other major oil firms as well as shippers and other industry players, as production in the oil rich nation is nearly shut off completely.

“Production has stopped as a result of the port closures and production has reached almost zero,” Naji Mukhtar, head of the GNA’s energy committee told Reuters. The news agency also reported on the possible eruption of civil war:

  Oil industry executives say Zeidan’s shaky central government risked widening violence that could descend into civil war if it uses force to recapture oilfields.

  […]

  Armed groups have also threatened to close the Wafa gas field, which if shut would cause severe power shortages in the capital, an oil official told Reuters.

With Egypt in disarray, Libya collapsing, growing power for the Muslim Brotherhood and al Qaeda alike, renewed tensions in Iraq and planned action against Syria now threatening to take the whole region with it, the Arab Spring and Obama-era wave of regime change can officially be considered a failure, unconstitutional and morally reprehensible.

_Aaron Dykes is a co-founder of TruthstreamMedia.com, where this first appeared. As a writer, researcher and video producer who has worked on numerous documentaries and investigative reports, he uses history as a guide to decode current events, uncover obscure agendas and contrast them with the dignity afforded individuals as recognized in documents like the Bill of Rights._

[]

question: What happened during the 2011 NATO campaign?

answer: That information can't be found.

question: Who is Col. Gaddafi?

answer: The document says that he was killed for the cause of "democracy" and "Western liberalism". Based off the document, he seemed to be a political figure in Libya.

question: Why is Libya threatening to inflame a civil war?

answer: It could be due to Zeidan’s shaky central government which risks widening violence that could descend into civil war if it uses force to recapture oilfields.

question: Who is the prime minister of Libya?

answer: Ali Zeidan

question: How was Chris Stevens murdered?

answer: He was a U.S. Ambassador killed in the Benghazi affair.

question: How is there a collapse of state in Libya?

answer: It seems there is a war between two Libyan tribes over oil revenues. Oil production has stopped as a result of this.

question: Why can the Arab Spring and Obama-era wave of regime change be considered a failure?

answer: At the time of the document, Egypt was in disarray, Libya was collapsing, power for the Muslim Brotherhood and al Qaeda was growing, there were renewed tensions in Iraq, and planned action against Syria was threatening to take the whole region with it.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This document discusses the state of Libya after it is announced how drastically Libya's oil production had been reduced as tribal conflict threatened to escalate into all out civil war.


text:
_CYMBALS_ is an album by guitarist Vinicius Cantuária.

Music and recording

Cantuária produced the album.[1] He also wrote or co-wrote nine of the compositions.[2] The album was recorded in New York and released in 2008.[3]

Reception

_The Guardian_'s reviewer commented that “You could trawl through acres of supposedly 'sexy' Brazil chill albums without finding tracks as good as the 11 songs on this entirely delightful album”.[4] The AllMusic reviewer concluded that, “For all of its originality and innovation, and its juxtaposition of traditions and integration of melodies and genres, Cymbals is far from a difficult listen.”[5]

Track listing

1.  “Galope”
2.  “Voce E Eu”
3.  “Chuva”
4.  “Vivo Sonhando”
5.  “Voce Esta Sumindo”
6.  “Prantos”
7.  “O Batuque”
8.  “Ominara”
9.  “Tua Cara”
10. “Champs De Mars”
11. “To You”

Personnel

-   Vinicius Cantuária – guitar, percussion
-   Brad Mehldau – piano
-   Marc Ribot – guitar
-   Jenny Scheinman – violin
-   Erik Friedlander – cello
-   David Binney – alto saxophone
-   Marivaldo Dos Santos – percussion

[1]

[2]

[3] Nelson, Tim (2008) “Vinicius Cantuaria Cymbals Review”. BBC.

[4]

[5]

title: Cymbals (album)

question: What is "Cymbals"?

answer: Cymbals is an album by guitarist Vinicius Cantuária recorded in New York and released in 2008.

question: Where was the album recorded and when was it released?

answer: New York, 2008.

question: How was the album received?

answer: A reviewer from The Guardian said the album is full of originality and juxtaposition. It is a delightful album.

question: List five songs from the album "Cymbals"

answer:
- Galope
- Prantos
- To You
- Ominara
- Voca E Eu

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Cymbals is an album by guitarist Vinicius Cantuária recorded in New York and released in 2008. The album has 11 songs, including Galope, To You, and Prantos.


text: BORIS Anatolyevich GORIN-GORYAINOV (Russian - Борис Анатольевич Горин-Горяйнов; 6 (19) November 1883, St Petersburg - 15 April 1944, Leningrad) was a Soviet stage and film actor, theatre director and writer. He is notable for his appearances in films such as _The Lame Gentleman_ (1929) and _Lieutenant Kijé_ (1934). In 1935 he was made a People’s Artist of the RSFSR. He refused to join the evacuation of Leningrad during World War Two and died in 1944 in the ensuing siege.

title: Boris Gorin-Goryainov

question: When was Boris born?

answer: Boris was born on November 6th, 1883.

question: What are some films Boris appeared in?

answer: Boris appeared in films such as The Lame Gentlemen, and Lieutenant Kije.

question: When was Boris made a People's Artist of the RSFSR?

answer: Boris was made a People's Artist of the RSFSR in 1935.

question: How did Boris die?

answer: Boris died during the Siege of Leningrad.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Boris Gorin-Goryainov was a prominent Soviet stage and film actor. He died during the Siege of Leningrad in World War Two.


text:
If you play by the rules, it will only keep you out of trouble. I am in trouble. Tonight is my last night working for Multiple Services. I have not been fired yet, but when my supervisor reads the email I sent her in the morning, I will be fired for sure – I am sure of it.

I used to do security at the Pearl district but I was recently transferred to American Plaza Towers. My new manager has a different set of standards. My dark brown boots being one of them – security 'officers' are supposed to wear black boots. But that's not the problem.

Tonight I am on shift with Emily, the graveyard guard. I am working the D shift, which intersects with her shift. I am not with her right now. Her shift has a lot more responsibilities than mine. I am in the lounge room, lounging. I don't need to worry about doing any checks because she has the 'snitch stick' – it's a little stick we poke into little tags that prove that we are working.  I am at low risk of being caught in here, the lounge room is closed during this time of night. It doesn't matter what I do. I will be fired in the morning anyway.

Currently Emily is doing some tower checks. She is only required to do one tower check a night, but she does multiple for 'brownie points'. No one ever gets promoted. Well, unless someone gets fired or dies or quits. A lot of people recently got fired because... 'they are not with us anymore' says Gerry, the supervisor at APC. Emily was not at liberty to tell me why, but it has something to do with 'vices'.

I needed to take a shit. I was already in the lounge room so the bathroom was so close I basically just took my pants down. My ass wouldn’t cooperate with me —the last little bit hung in between my butt cheeks like a hand trying to catch a dollar bill falling to the ground. I hate this, being forced into vulgarity; I want to let go of the turd. My butt thinks the turd is valuable, I guess.

 The women's bathroom next to me started making noise. Emily must be relieving herself as well. I finished long after she did. I left the bathroom unclean because the toilet finally clogged.  Maintenance can handle it in the morning, fuck it. When I left, I saw Emily at the exit of the room, holding the door open waiting for me to leave. I walked out, uncomfortably — I didn't wipe enough. She locked the door behind us.

I entered the elevator. She joined me. I pressed the button to the basement with plans to hang out in a storage room and read. She pressed the button to the 26th floor and I got caught into doing a tower check with her. She invited me to smoke some cigarettes on the roof and talk. I don't smoke, but it sounded like a good offer.

“So how do you like it so far?” She asked.

“The elevator ride?”

“The job.”

“oh... uh, well...” I stalled, “APC lives up to it's reputation.”

“Ah, yes. You need not say more.”

There was a long silence that was only broken with a 'ding' each time we passed a floor.

“So,” I finally said, “What do the people in these condominiums do for a living?”

“Most of them are retired. That's why there are so many care givers here. But one of them I know sells stuff on Ebay. The guy never went to college and he quit his job to start up a business."

Some nerve, I thought.

"These people are all rich," she said, "somehow or another. Each time you hear that ding, the price of a room goes up."

There was a small stair case past the breezeway on the top floor that led to a freshly painted door that was bent out of shape. This door led to the roof.  She told me the correct key was the square key. I fumbled with my set for a while and found it. I attempted to open the door and she told me the key to opening the door is to shout the correct sequence of curse words. After a few moments, I understood what she meant. I was not saying the right words. She got her key out and did it in a snap.

“I've been here a while,” she said, “you get used to it.”

I wasn't used to smoking but  I really like the motions it conduces with my hand. I told her that's the only thing I like about smoking. She said that's what got her into it.

I stared out at the skyline of the city, at the skyscrapers that reach so high into society – to heights I admit I will never achieve. The view was almost worth it. I won't be able to pay for college after tonight.

“Gerry is probably going to fire me tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“She wants my DPSST card number, but I don't have it... I... lost it....”

“Well, you can just call in to get the number, right? It's in the system."

“I don't have my card.”

“Huh... I'll just go ahead and say I didn't hear you say that when she brings it up.” We took some drags. “I don't want to be here forever, you know," she said finally.

“You don't say.”

“Yeah, some people stay here for years. This job is perfect for people like you... who want to get through college. But after two or three years, it's like, what are you doing with your life?”

“What do you want to do with your life?”

“I used to go to college, but I stopped taking courses because I didn't feel like they were taking me anywhere. The guy down at Plaid Pantry has a masters degree in engineering. Right now I try to come up with something new every night and research if it's been done before. It usually has.  Basically, the way I look at it, entrepreneurism is the only way to make it in this world now. My dad has this business, it's pretty successful. Basically, he helps other people be successful.”

“Nice. Why don't you get him to help you?”

“We're not on good terms... he just wants me to successful... I'm just a security guard..." We took some drags. "The choice here is you can do a side project and hope it turns into something... or, what else are you going to do?”

“We should probably finish this tower check.”

“Right.”

We started down the tower, checking every floor. I shifted my underwear around, but it was no use. I walked uncomfortably the whole way down. Just gotta pull through.

Half way down the tower, there was a place to tag the snitch stick. Emily brought up some statistic that the vast majority of Americans all believe that some day they will all be rich, that's why they all don't support the dynasty tax. I said that was nice and waited for the chance to lounge in the lounge room again.

It was the end of my shift — the last few minutes of my having a job. As I left, I said, “see ya”. I didn't look back and would probably never see her again, but I heard Emily say “have fun”.

title: What Else Are You Going To Do?

question: What kind of email has the narrator sent his supervisor?

answer: Not one she is going to enjoy since he believes that it will get him fired. It is likely rude and insubordinate.

question: If the narrator's brown boots are not the problem and the reason why he sent his supervisor an email that will get him fired, what is?

answer: Judging from his work ethic it may be that he has been skipping work or some of the duties that he is expected to perform in the course of his work. Or it may be as he says because he lost his DPSSI card.

question: Why does the narrator agree to go for a smoke when he doesn't smoke?

answer: He likes the hand motions required to smoke.

question: Why doesn't Emilie's father help her to improve her position in life?

answer: He doesn't approve of her so they don't get on

question: Write a ~9 sentence summary.

answer:
It is the narrator’s last night working for Multiple Services. He has sent his supervisor an email that will almost certainly get him fired. He has recently been transferred to this job and his new manager has a different set of standards to the last.
He is lounging in the lounge room and Emily, who is on the same shift is doing all the snitch stick duties which proves that they are working. Emily joins him in the elevator and he has to go up to the 26th floor with her. She invites him for a smoke on the roof.
Emily doesn’t want to be a security guard forever. She used to go to college but dropped out. He has reached the last few minute of his last shift.


text:
GARY LITTLE (c. 1939 – August 18, 1988) was an American judge from Seattle, Washington who committed suicide in 1988 after allegations that he had sexual contact with underage boys. The public allegations against Little, and his subsequent suicide, followed a decade of rumors that had circulated about him, including several media exposes that had been quashed before publication, and a state investigation of Little which had been sealed.

Early life and education

Little was born in Seattle, the son of truck driver Sterling Little, who died in August 1947 after hanging himself in a jail cell in the King County Courthouse where he was being held on a burglary charge. Gary Little's widowed mother worked as a stenographer while he and his sister were raised by their grandmother. Little, described as a “driven and able” student, graduated from Lincoln High School and earned a scholarship to Harvard University.[1][2][3]

Little graduated from Harvard and went on to earn a juris doctor from the University of Washington School of Law. While a student at the University of Washington, he “immersed himself in Democratic politics” and began to develop a circle of influential friends.[4][5]

Career

Beginning in the 1960s, Little worked as an Assistant Attorney General assigned to the University of Washington. During this time, he also served as a volunteer counselor in the Seattle juvenile court and as a part-time teacher at the prestigious Lakeside School from 1968 to 1972. He subsequently was retained as general counsel for the Seattle School District, and was later credited with engineering the district's “sweeping desegregation program”.[6][7][8]

Little was elected to the King County Superior Court in 1980.[9]

Allegations of sexual abuse

In 1981, King County Prosecutor Norm Maleng quietly opened an investigation into rumors that had been circulating about Little having inappropriate contact with juvenile defendants outside the courtroom. A subsequent inquiry by the state's Commission on Judicial Conduct found that Little had non-criminal, but inappropriate, encounters with boys who appeared in his court and admonished him for it, however, the report of the inquiry was sealed.[10][11]

At about the same time, three of Little's former students at the Lakeside School contacted the _Seattle Post-Intelligencer_ to allege instances of sexual abuse by the judge when he was working at the school in the 1960s. The newspaper began an investigation of the claims, in the process of which it discovered a previously unknown arrest of Little from 1964 on charges of assault against a 16-year-old in Little's Seattle apartment; the charges in that case had been dismissed. The _Seattle Post-Intelligencer_'s inquiry stalled after the former Lakeside students refused to swear affidavits as to the veracity of their accusations. Publishers had demanded the affidavits to protect the newspaper against the possibility of a future libel lawsuit.[12][13]

By the mid 1980s, Little had become a divisive figure among judges on the Superior Court; some felt he actively sought to try juvenile cases as a way of coming into contact with boys for sexual purposes, while other judges felt such insinuations amounted to gay bashing. In 1985 Superior Court presiding judge Norman Quinn directed that Little not hear criminal cases involving juveniles after he discovered Little had taken a 14-year-old defendant from Bellevue, Washington, Christmas shopping for the boy's father. Little defended his involvement with the boy, stating that it was important for those in the criminal justice system to “intervene in a dramatic and decisive way in the lives” of young people to deter them from a future life of crime.[14][15]

The same year, when Little was restricted from trying juvenile cases, KING-TV prepared to air a story on Little based on the accounts of four confidential sources who alleged they had been abused by him at the Lakeside School in the 1960s. Ancil Payne, the president of King Broadcasting Company, ordered that the story be shelved. A simultaneous inquiry by _The Seattle Times_ was never published, though reporter Don McGaffin later recalled that he had personally witnessed Little kissing “a blond, blue-eyed male student” on one occasion in 1968 when he had walked into Little's office at the University of Washington.[16]

In July 1988, KING-TV aired a story about Little's earlier involvement with the Bellevue 14-year-old, after which Little announced he would not seek renewal of his term on the Superior Court, which was expiring that year, and instead depart Washington for California. Following the KING-TV story, the _Seattle Post-Intelligencer_ reopened its earlier investigation of the Lakeside allegations and decided to move forward with publication, the new article being penned by reporter Duff Wilson.[17][18]

Death

On August 18, 1988, Little shot and killed himself in his chambers in the King County Courthouse, the same building his father had killed himself in more than 40 years before.[19] Little had earlier been contacted by Duff Wilson who informed him about his soon to-be published story. A suicide note found at the scene read, in part:[20]

More than 600 people attended Little's funeral.[21]

Aftermath

Initial public reaction to news of Little's death largely focused on the _Seattle Post-Intelligencer_ and the belief it had hounded the judge, though the confidential operation of the state's Commission on Judicial Conduct and the suppression of its 1981 report also quickly came under scrutiny. Later, concern was expressed that indicators of possible wrongdoing by Little had been covered up by Seattle's historically cloistered social and political elite. In a story published two months after Little's death, _The Washington Post_ noted that “the explanations have centered on the traditional decorum and protectiveness of Seattle politics, libel laws, the gay-rights movement, the reluctance to besmirch a judge and, particularly, Little's solid public reputation and widespread friendships”.[22][23]

Personal life

Little was viewed by colleagues and community members as “funny, articulate, [and] brilliant” and seamlessly embedded himself as a fixture within Seattle society despite his modest origins. He was known to be a “dapper” dresser who frequented the city's finest clubs and restaurants. Some jurors who served in his court recalled that he had a penchant for making the law accessible and adeptly handling the mechanics of complex cases.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21]

[22]

[23]

title: Gary Little

question: When was Gary Little born?

answer: Circa 1939.

question: Where did Gary Little live?

answer: Seattle Washington.

question: When was Little elected to the King County Superior Court?

answer: 1980.

question: When did Little die?

answer: 1988.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The article is about Gary Little, a judge who committed suicide in 1988.


text:
Curiosity is what drives us, most of us anyway. The way he saw things were different. To him, curiosity was death. To be curious, was to die. He would never leave that old house that was falling apart, the haven that he felt was home. Never experiencing anything because of the fear that he held within with so much pride. Blinded by his own lies and his rejection from himself and life. What was life? To him life was four filthy walls that were impenetrable with a door wide open. In his mind, death stalked the walk ways and hallways. Lurking in the dark, waiting to pounce on him as soon as he dare muster up the courage to face reality. Sitting alone in his room for so long, with no one to keep company. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to aspire to become. He tries to alleviate the sickness with hymns of the past. The chant of life and the death stillness of his own. Staring at the ceiling, he decides. He dares to be curious. Curious of what?

*Note*
This is my first short story submission, so take it easy on me. Let me know what you think and make sure to leave feedback. If you liked it, I will write up part 2.

Thank you.

title: Curiosity [Part 1]

question: How was the narrator different from most others?

answer: He was incurious. He saw curiosity as deadly.

question: What kind of mental illness does the narrator have?

answer: He appears to have agoraphobia, a fear of open spaces.

question: Where will the decision to be curious take the narrator?

answer: He must dare to leave the confines of his home and face his fears.


text:
[social media how to]Are you listening to what people are saying about your company?

Are you responding to those comments?

The goal of social listening isn’t just to hear what others are saying about you, it’s to act on those discussions.

In this article you’ll DISCOVER WHAT SOCIAL LISTENING IS, HOW IT WORKS AND HOW RESPONDING IMPROVES COMMUNICATION.

What Is Social Listening?

Many social marketers think social listening is just paying attention to metrics. But metrics are just a part of it.

[social media listenting]
Find tips for improving your social media listening.
Social listening includes being aware of what people are saying about you on social media, and then responding appropriately. It’s half awareness and half response—the response part is critical. Basically, social listening boils down to good communication.

Listening and responding have several important benefits. For example, you can find out how the public perceives your products and services and improve them when needed. When you take suggestions seriously, you’re building stronger brand loyalty.

You can also stem negative social buzz before it escalates. By responding to feedback, you’re humanizing your social voice.

Take Cues From Feedback

Consider the common model of human communication. The most important component is feedback.

[]

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Take a normal conversation, for instance. Whenever two or more people interact, they customarily respond to one another’s feedback.

[conversation shutterstock image 185065316]
There’s more to conversations than simply talking. Image: Shutterstock.
  Man: “Wow. It’s cold today.”
  Woman: “Yeah, it sure is. I think it’s supposed to get below freezing tonight!”
  Man: “Are you serious? I’m going to have to turn on my heat!”

That’s a normal, natural conversation. The man and woman are responding to the feedback from the messages they send.

What if the conversation went like this?

  Man: “Wow. It’s cold today.”
  Woman “Yeah, it sure is. I think it’s supposed to get below freezing tonight!”
  Man: “I’m wearing khaki pants.”

That doesn’t make any sense. The man is not listening, and you can tell by his response that he’s not paying attention to feedback cues.

[listen shutterstock image 215663950]
Pay attention to what you hear. Image: Shutterstock.
His inane comment about the color of his pants is totally unrelated to the conversation. It signals that he is oblivious to feedback, ignorant of the conversational flow and uninterested in continuing the conversation he started.

Becoming a listener takes practice, time and patience. A good listener—both in person and in social media—is a good responder.

The best listeners are also the most skilled conversationalists. They’re not talking all the time; they are listening first and taking cues from others’ feedback before they respond.

Become a Social Listener

Forrester’s investigation into social media listening found that there are several stages of advancement in social media listening, each one progressively better.

The listener always begins by monitoring, and then builds up to deeper levels of engagement. At their most advanced level, social listeners treat each social participant as a unique marketing channel and concentrate all social components to bear upon a single point.

Put Google Analytics to Work for Your Business

[Google Analytics for Marketers]

Ever thought, "there's got to be a better way" when it comes to tracking your marketing activities? Are you forced to make decisions based on limited data? With the right training, you can use Google Analytics to MEASURE ALL OF YOUR MARKETING EFFORTS WITH CERTAINTY. You’ll stop the leaks in your ad spending, justify your marketing spend, gain the confidence you need to make better marketing decisions, and know what’s working at every step of the customer journey. Let the world's leading analytics pro show you the way. Check out our new Google Analytics for Marketers course from your friends at Social Media Examiner.

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[listen shutterstock image 209985445]
Learning to listen effectively is a process. Image: Shutterstock.
To get started as a social listener, you’ll need to have the proper tools in place. Find out which ones will best serve your purposes and start using them. You can take a look at Social Media Examiner’s 6 Steps to Build a Social Listening Dashboard to get started.

There are a lot of options, but you only have to select a few tools to be a successful listener. Of course, tools are great, but if you don’t use them for more than metrics, you’re missing out on essential conversation opportunities.

Being a listener doesn’t happen simply by deciding to be one. It’s critical to allocate time in your schedule (I recommend daily) to use your tools to listen and engage with your social media tribe.

Join the Conversation

Listening is one of the most essential life skills—a building block of interpersonal relationships. But it’s hard work because true listening requires you to respond to every interaction—no one likes to be ignored.

As you listen to conversations, you’ll likely find, as I have, that people are often asking for help. They’re looking for tips about how to do something and the best way to do it. Here’s an example of HubSpot helping out a customer:

[hubspot conversation on twitter]
HubSpot listens and responds. The result is they have happy customers.
One of the best ways to show that you’re listening is to refer to the social interactions you’ve seen. For example, you can take someone’s feedback and mention it on your blog:

Kendra L. mentioned on Facebook that her Twitter feed was displaying updates from people she hadn’t followed. I wanted to explain why this might be the case.

See what I did there? I specifically mentioned something that I listened to on social media, and then provided an answer others could benefit from as well. This simple action deepens the trust of users, ensuring they stay connected and engaged.

[airdog on instagram]
AirDog actively updates their Instagram account and responds to their users’ questions.
Another tactic to show that you’re interested in a true conversation is to explicitly ask for feedback from your fans, followers and customers. Ask them what they think and what they want. Then respond to their feedback.

You’ll likely find that listening, responding and helping isn’t a one-way street. You’ll receive value from your audience when they comment and provide information on something you may not know.

OVER TO YOU

If your social tactics don’t include listening and responding, you could be holding yourself back from true success.

Social media marketing isn’t just about publishing information and releasing updates. Gathering feedback, understanding its meaning and responding in an appropriate way enhances your brand as a whole.

Brands that are social listeners see their social media efforts explode with power. They’re pulsing with interaction and expanding every day. That success starts with listening and grows with action.

WHAT DO YOU THINK? HAVE YOU SET UP A SOCIAL LISTENING DASHBOARD? ARE YOU GOING THE EXTRA MILE AND STARTING AND RESPONDING TO CONVERSATIONS? Leave your comments and experiences below.

Conversation stick figure photo, Listen closely photo and Map pointer photo from Shutterstock.

[]

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[]
Neil Patel is the co-founder of Crazy Egg, Hello Bar, Stride, and KISSmetrics. He helps companies like Amazon, NBC, GM, HP, and Viacom grow their revenue.

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Reader Interactions

question: What is the article about?

answer: The article is about improving one's understanding of others' perception using social media feedback.

question: What is Social Listening?

answer: Social listening is paying attention to metrics, and being aware of what people are saying about you on social media and responding appropriately. Social media boils down to good communication.

question: What is a Social Listener?

answer: A social listener begins with monitoring, and then builds to higher levels of engagement. Social listeners treat each participant as a unique marketing channel.

question: Who is the target audience for this article?

answer: It seems the target audience is online businesses looking to improve customer relations.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The article is about improving one's understanding of others' perception using social media feedback. The focus of the article is Social listening, which is paying attention to metrics, and being aware of what people are saying about you on social media and responding appropriately. Social media boils down to good communication.


text:
"Well, you wanted an answer Larry, here's your answer."  The whole office had crowded around Larry's computer, gazing at his screen in mutual awe.

"Listen *Brent*, I was quite happy without an answer - now what the fuck am I going to do?"

"Language" said Jill from HR.

Despite the exchange, their eyes, and minds, were focused intently on the article in front of them.  "Fucking hell" said Sarah, placing her half cup of coffee on Larry's desk with no intention of finishing it.  Jill rolled her eyes in resignation.

*"There is no Afterlife"* read the title of the news article.  It elaborated: *"In a landmark discovery, scientists have proven that the afterlife does not exist, having conducted experiments with the previously dead."*

"Do you reckon this means there's no G-man then?" said Brett, who seemed more excited then anything else.  Larry, a devout Christian, hastily scrolled down the page, pointing Brett's attention to the final paragraph and reading it out loud.  "Scientists cannot confirm that a God does not exist, and do not consider this discovery as an attack on religious beliefs or practices." he proclaimed proudly.

"Still though Larry." said Sarah, whose eyes still scanned the text searchingly, "what's even the point now?".  Larry was angry, visibly so.  Jill looked concerned, she sensed that this type of conversation might be breaking staff protocol.  Brett remained pretty pleased with himself, as though he himself had been to the dark edges of the abyss and returned to report his findings.

"Well *Sarah*, it means when you die there ain't nobody going to be savin' your ass" replied Larry, finally averting his gaze from the screen.  Sarah looked back at him defiantly, but failed to muster any kind of comeback. Larry turned his gaze back to the screen, hoping to find something to reaffirm his faith.

Brett chuckled behind him, then turned round and strolled back to his desk with smug satisfaction.  He leant back in his chair, swivelling it round to face Larry again. "It's just a shame, Larry" he said, loud enough that the whole office could hear. "Oh yeah and why is that?" said Larry, not bothering to turn around. "Because now, I won't have anything to look forward to."

He reached under his chair with his right hand and pulled out a small pistol.  With a fluid, unhesitant movement he raised it to his temple, clenched his eyelids tight and fired a bullet through his skull, spraying his computer screen with a red film.  Jill began to scream, and Sarah collapsed, knocking her abandoned coffee off of Larry's desk and onto the floor.  Larry reeled around and stared at the mess infront of him, grasping the gold cross hung around his neck, praying that Brett ends up in heaven.

title: Brett

question: What is likely to be Brett's religion?

answer: It seems he is at least agnostic, and/or wants to be an atheist.

question: Why is Larry concerned at the end?

answer: It's said that people who commit suicide won't end up in heaven.

question: Why is Brett comfortable committing suicide now?

answer: There is no heaven or hell if there is no afterlife.

question: Why is the whole office seemingly interested in this?

answer: Maybe they made some bets.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The whole office gathers around Larry's computer to read the news that there is no afterlife. They talk about it a little, with a man named Brett's seeming almost excited. Brett announces it's a shame that he now will have nothing to look forward to, pulls out a pistol, and kills himself.


text:
I had an interesting experience once. About 5 years ago, when I was still cleaning pools, I got the call to clean a pool in some mansion in a really rich area of the city I live in.

So I drove up there that Thursday morning. It was a very hot day, as we were in the middle of summer, and it was torture having to clean these pools when all I wanted to do was just swim in them. So I get to the right address, park my van, and then walk up to the door. I ring the bell and I get no response. I ring it twice. I ring it three times. Finally I hear someone call out "Coming", and so I take a step back to admire the house while I'm waiting.
Gosh it was a rich house. The flipping front door was made out of mohagony.

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear the front door open. I step forward, out of the sun, so that I can see who I'm working for today.

Wow. I still remember the feeling of being speechless, as if my tongue had been swallowed by my own throat. Standing before was a woman. Not just any old or ugly woman. NO. This one was a babe. She was wearing those short shorts that just hugged her butt, and showing off her long smooth legs. Above her butt she was wearing a shirt that had been tied up so that it was exposing a midriff, her tanned tummy looking firm and sexy. And above her hot tummy? Woah, very good looking breasts that were being shown enough that you could get a good look at them, but concealing enough so that some was still left up to the imagination.
To top it all off, her face. With hair as black as a moonless night, and eyes as blue as the pearly ocean, I felt like I could stare at her for an eternity. She seemed like she was some goddess, and here I was staring at her.

"Hello?..."
My thoughts are interrupted as she speaks, making me realise that I'd been staring.
"Yes. Hello. My name is John Smith and I'm here to clean the pool." I said while reaching out for a handshake.
"Brilliant" She grasped my hand in a firm handshake. "Please come in and I'll let you get to work."
"Thanks"

She showed me to the pool, and then went back into the mansion she probably called home as I started cleaning. Half an hour passed without a single sight of her, even though I was definitely keeping my eye out on her. Half an hour turned into an hour. Still no sign. And then, I heard a sliding door roll back. And there she was. Dressed just as before, except for that she was wearing a pair of black sunglasses that framed her face and complemented her dark hair beautifully. In her hand she appeared to be carrying what looked like a bottle of suntan lotion. Intrigued, I kept on working, but making sure that I could always see her out of the corner of my eye.
She proceeded to sit down on a beach chair that was close to the pool, and started to apply suntan lotion all over her gorgeous figure. I could barely concentrate on my work as this gorgeous woman rubbed that lotion over her legs than her midriff than shoulders and finally face. I felt my body respond, and my pants grew tighter as a boner began to grow. She seemed to be having trouble getting lotion onto her back though. She tried several times to rub it in, but each time she failed.

It was at this time I was started to sincerely contemplate going over there and offering to help her. My mind waged back and forth, part of me already tired and just wanting to get back home. However the choice ended up not being mine
"Excuse me" I heard.
I turned, hoping that she was talking to me.
"Hi John. I was wondering if you could just help me for a sec, rub this suntan lotion on my back?" she said, reaching my ears as a beautiful melody.
"Sure" I called back, setting my equipment down as I walked over to where she was lying down.
"The bottle of suntan lotion is just next to my chair, if you could please rub it in on my back" she cooed, while taking off her shirt, exposing a black bra beneath it. She layed down on the chair, face first so that I could rub it into her back. But I wasn't looking at her back. I was looking at her butt. Her glorious, firm butt that was just every slightly poking out, inviting me to grab each cheek in my hands.

"John?" she asked
"Sorry" I mumbled as I quickly squirted some lotion into my hands "Just had some diffuculty with the bottle"
"Haha" she softly chuckled "Sure you were"
Not knowing what to say to that as a response, I just got straight into applying the lotion onto her back. My hands caressed her body, rubbing it into every bit of open skin that I could find. I was so glad that I had taken that massaging course years ago...I knew it would pay off one day.

Minutes passed and I just kept going. What started out as a simple application of suntan lotion turned into a lenghty massage. I started to feel her become responsive to my touch. A slight squirm there and little sigh of pleasure here. I could tell that I was beginning to make her aroused. Not wanting to waste this once of lifetime opportunity, I decided that I'd take it a bit further. I began to massage the bottom of her feet, then up to her ankles. From there I worked up to the knees and from there to the thighs. Her skin was so soft to the touch, her legs so tanned and sexy, that I felt my boner grow even bigger. My head began to swim with the arousement that was beginning to a hold of me. But I didn't stop.

My massaging hands explored ever further up her legs, until I reached her upper thigh, just where her short shorts came to a stop. As I kept massaging, I could hear that she was trying to stifle her sighs and groans of pleasure as my hands did their job. Suddenly, not being able to take resist the enticement of her arousal any longer, she quickly sat up.

My heart sank. I had come so close, only to what seemed to be rejected. However I was wrong. She leaned forward and enveloped my lips in her lips, my mouth in her mouth. Our tongues touched and danced with one another as we kissed one another with a desperation that only seperated lovers could know. I broke the kiss to get a breath of fresh air. My heart raced with adrenaline. And as we looked into one another's eyes, it became too much, and we resumed kissing one another. My lips left hers, and trailed down her body, softly carressing her neck, then her shoulders, and finally the breasts. Her breathing quickened as she started to moan my name. "John.... John... John" she gasped breathlessly "Thank you. Thank you so much.."

"Your welcome" I whispered in her ear "Get rea-"
She raised her finger to my lips, silencing me with a single action.
"Thank you" she said "for getting me horney for when my husband comes home. He will be so happy with me." She stood up, and smiled at me. "Maybe next time" she uttered. And with that she walked across the coutyard and back into the house, closing the sliding door behind her.

title: The Pool Man and the House Wife

question: Write a ~13 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator recalls getting a call to clean a pool 5 years earlier in a wealthy suburb. It is a hot day in the middle of summer. He rings the bell and a woman of extreme voluptuous beauty opens the door and shows him the pool.
Sometime later she comes out to the pool and starts to apply suntan lotion. The pool cleaner watches. He’s turned on. Eventually, she gets to her back and is unable to reach. She asks the narrator to assist. He’s highly aroused and he comes over and starts to massage the lotion into her back. He has some massage experience and it’s clear that the woman is enjoying herself.

He takes his time and massages her feet and legs, right up to her very short shorts. She is clearly aroused and turns to kiss him. Then she thanks him for working her up so she can please her husband.


text:
I kneel to the dusty sand and rock covered ground as I hide behind a graffitied white chipped and weathered brick wall. I look down at my filthy uniform and scarred hands which hold an over sized gun. It is now that the realization hits me, after years of suppressing it.

*This has come too far.*

On one side of the wall there is a brutal and bloody scrimmage of soldiers fighting soldiers. On the path that to the opposite direction is the base. If I went around the other side of the wall death was almost certain. If I went back to the base I would be labelled a coward, I would be ostracized and sent into solitary confinement. “For shame, for shame” they would say. “For shame, for shame” my father would say.

*Oh, How that bastard would hate me, maybe as much as I hate him. No, nobody could hate as much as I hate him.*

He was the one who had forced me into this, this hell. I was never good enough for him, nothing could satisfied his lust for perfection, and I was no exception. My passion is painting but he made t his life goal to mold me into his puppet, to make me a 'real man'. I was told to put down my paint brush and join the army. What other choice
did I have? If I hadn't he would of kicked me out and I would have had nowhere to go and there was no way my mother would try and interfere, she's just as much of a coward as I am. This is how I ended up in the middle of this useless battle for power.

*These enemy soldiers, they use weaponry for brains and have robot emotions from mechanical hearts that have been fueled and ready to destroy. No feelings, No emotions, Just the sound of cold gears turning slowly, constantly. Clunk, Clunk, Clunk.*

*I know what I have to do.*

I steady my hands enough to pick up my weapon and stand. I don't wipe away my tears, I want them to see them. My body takes me into my doom, my heart takes me into salvation.

title: Soldier

question: Was the narrator part of a war?

answer: It is implied that he was.

question: What was the narrator's true passion?

answer: Painting.

question: WIll the narrator do into battle or go back to camp?

answer: It is implied that he went to battle.

question: Why was he in the army if he didn't like it?

answer: His dad forced him to join the army.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is in a war, wondering if he should go to battle or desert and go back to camp. His father forced him into joining the army even though he wanted to be a painter. He thinks about how he hates his dad, grabs his gun, and goes into the battlefield with tears in his eyes.


text:
The light turned red. I slammed on the brakes, and was in turn slammed into my seatbelt as my BMW M3 slowed. my bumper stopped only inches short of the crosswalk, and a group of half-stoned teenagers cursed at me as they jumped back. I waved impatiently and revved my engine. The straight-six roared, like a savage creature under the hood was waiting to be unleashed. As soon as the light switched, I popped the clutch and the roadster shot forward. Five seconds later, I was roaring down the country road at sixty miles an hour. Loud as the engine was, however, it was drowned out by the screaming in my head. Because, truth be told, I was running away. Away from my home and my wife and everything I knew, with nothing in the trunk but a tire iron and a suitcase with clothes for three days. The last words she had spoken to me as I threw jeans and shirts into my bag rang in my head. “Bastard!” She had called me as I ran out the door, a glass of whiskey nearly missing my skull. “Shithead!” “Asshole!”  She said, over and over again in my head. Much as I tried to dredge up a memory, any memory of her that didn’t involve having profanity and heavy things thrown my way, I just couldn’t. So I ran. I ran to the driveway and my M3, throwing my suitcase in the back, banging my head on the opened trunk. I jumped in and turned on the engine and drove away and... Holy shit!

The deer seemed to take flight, nearly missing the hood of my car as it ran into the woods. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the road. By now, I realized, I was far into the mountains, farther than I had ever been. I had missed the turnoff which led to the interstate, and was heading deeper into the Arkansas highlands. The road was smoother now, but there was fog creeping onto the sides. I kept my high beams on to watch for deer, and opened my windows. The engine screamed through the straight pipes and, spurred on by the sound, I upshifted into fourth and took off, my tires rumbling and squealing over the asphalt. The road widened to four lanes, and just in time, because just as I came around a blind corner, there appeared an old Ford truck. As I came up behind it, I could hear its old engine straining to get up the hill. I flashed my signal and passed the old wreck and crested the hill. As I did, a set of headlamps flashed in my rearview. I flinched  as the lights disappeared behind me, only to flash again as the car they were attached to crested the hill a few hundred yards behind me. I looked over my shoulder to identify the car, but its lights suddenly turned off. Then I saw the Ford roll over the hill. Or, more accurately, what was left of the Ford. It was skidding on raw rims, its tires shredded and sparks flying in a grotesque fireworks display. The man behind the wheel had been blown away with a 12-gauge, and his blood obscured the windshield. The old truck flipped once as it slid off the road, landing in a thicket and catching fire as its gas tank ruptured. Over the cacophony of the crash, I heard the throaty growl of a big V8 through straight pipes. Even louder, though, was a banshee-like scream. Both were growing louder, and I decided to make my getaway. I planted my foot on the gas, and accelerated away. Even as my M3 put down its 333 horses, I could hear the other car coming on fast. I hit the brakes as I rounded a turn, and the shrieking only grew louder. As I came out of the turn, I got my first look at my pursuer. The car was a jet-black 1967 Camaro SS, its sliver racing stripes shining in the light of the full moon. The headlights abruptly came back on, and I could see skull-shaped cutouts over the lamps, throwing eerie white silhouettes on the road behind me. I cursed and dropped down a gear, my engine screaming as the car jumped forward. The Camaro shrieked as it accelerated. It had a monstrous hood scoop, and a silver glow emanated from inside. The muscle car swerved left, and came alongside me. I gunned my engine again, and pulled ahead. Then, and God help me for doing it, I saw the driver.

His head was smoky grey skeletal, with white fire blazing in his empty eye sockets. He wore a matte black firesuit, a skull-and-crossbones insignia adorning the shoulder. I looked, horrified, into the face of Death, and my vision tunneled. In a split second, I saw my family and friends standing by my graveside, growing older and dying before falling into the open pit. I blinked, but a vision of my wife appeared. She held a flaming stick, and cursed me as she swung it at my head. I screwed my eyes shut once again, and the shrieks of my dead friends were replaced with the banshee-scream of the supercharged car beside me. The death’s-headed driver looked at me and smiled, his moon-bleached teeth as bright as welding torches. He raised a black sawn-off shotgun, and I turned away, shifting into high gear and accelerating away. The Camaro was hot on my heels, but I could hear the wailing of his supercharger recede as I powered down the straightaway. His V8 roar mixed with the hair-raising sound of his supercharger,  but my car was faster through the corners, and I took full advantage. I could see Death, his evil, hollow face twisted into an angry grimace as he slammed on the gas. I hit the next corner hard, drifting around the hairpin as my rear tires spun and cried out in protest. I could hear myself cursing and screaming in abject terror as my tail end almost hit the guardrail, but I managed to recover and my tires miraculously regained traction. My straight-six belted out its gravelly song and, emboldened, I mashed the clutch and upshifted just as Death’s Camaro cleared the turn. He let his V8 do its work, putting down what had to be 500 horsepower, but I had the advantage this time. Looking down the road, I saw another hairpin corner leading into a long, winding descent. I stood on the brake and put the clutch in, sliding smoothly through the turn, and let the clutch out as I opened the throttle. My M3 screamed down the mountainside, leaving Death in the dust. I didn’t slow down for ten minutes, when the lights of my small town appeared around a shallow turn. I looked behind me and saw the black Camaro, stopped about a mile back, smoke coming out of its hood scoop. Death stood regally in the moonlight, his arm up in a terrifying salute. I turned the corner and, when I next looked back, the car and its driver had disappeared.

I arrived back at my small house, and pulled the M3 into the driveway. I climbed out, a grin on my face. After all, I had just faced down Death and won. How bad could a whiskey-throwing woman be?

title: The High Drive

question: Did the protagonist actually hit a deer?

answer: No- he narrowly missed it.

question: Who is the other driver?

answer: Death.

question: Why did the protagonist flee?

answer: His wife was running after him, but the text doesn't indicate why.

question: How does the protagonist cheat death?

answer: He outraces him in his fancy BMW.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: The protagonist's wife chases him out of their house, calling him names, and hurls a glass of whiskey at him. He flees in his BMW, of which he is very proud. He narrowly misses a deer in his car before he sees an old truck. It follows him and when he catches sight of the driver, he sees a skull-it's Death. The protagonist speeds up and manages to outrun and outmaneuver Death. Feeling proud, he returns home, with a renewed confidence at facing his angry wife.


text:
Smoothies are a great way to quickly add nutrients to your body and fill your stomach. There are tons of smoothie recipes on the internet wherein various kinds of fruits and seeds are used. Veggies too can be added to smoothies but fruit and nut smoothies are always preferred considering the ease of using ingredients and taste. If you love smoothies in breakfasts or as meal replacements, below are some smoothie boosters that you can add in for that extra kick of nutrition and fulfillment.

[HEALTHY AND NATURAL SMOOTHIE BOOSTERS]

BANANA

Bananas make a great smoothie base since they add a nice creamy texture to it. Also, bananas are high in potassium which increases bloat-fighting gut bacteria and reduce bloating. Bananas are also high in fiber that keep you full for longer and help you stay away from junk food.

NUTS

Nuts like cashews, peanuts, walnuts etc. add a great nutty flavor and crunchy texture to your smoothies. You can also add in nut butters. Nuts contain protein and essential fatty acids that get your muscle building and metabolism on track.

PROTEIN POWDER

Protein powders are a great way to add extra protein to your smoothies. They come in various flavors, are low in carbs and great way to make your smoothies taste sweet without the sugar. Also, they keep you full for longer.

GREEK YOGURT

Greek yogurt is low in calories and consists of almost double the protein as regular cup of yogurt. It also adds a great creamy and dense texture your smoothies and is very fulfilling.

CHIA SEEDS

Soak chia seeds in water for 15 minutes and add it in the smoothie or add it directly while blending if you do not like its texture. These wonderful seeds are full of fiber, omega-3 fatty acids, calcium and about 4 grams of protein per table-spoon. More: Ways to add protein to your smoothie >>

question: Why are smoothies good for us?

answer: They are a great way of adding a lot of nutrients to your body and fill you up.

question: What are the most filling ingredients on this list?

answer: The ones that are highest in fibre. Bananas and chia seeds as well as protien powder.

question: Why is Greek Yogurt preferable?

answer: It is low in calories and has double the protein of normal yogurt.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: A short summary of good ideas for smoothie ingredients focusing on the health benefits of each.


text:
_SHIP WITHOUT A HARBOUR_ () is a 1932 German thriller film directed by Harry Piel and starring Piel, Trude Berliner and Charly Berger.[1]

The film's sets were designed by Willi Herrmann. It was partly shot on location at the North German port of Bremerhaven.

Cast

-   Harry Piel as Seepolizist Klaus Hansen
-   Ingrid Lindström as Kitty Korff, seine Frau
-   Trude Berliner as Lilly Steffens
-   Hans Lorenz as Steuermann Jochen Hübner, ihr Geliebter
-   Eugen Rex as Seepolizist Martin
-   Charly Berger as Seepolizist Behrendt
-   Philipp Manning as Inspektor Burghardt
-   Friedrich Kayßler as Chef der Seepolizei
-   Paul Rehkopf as Kapitän
-   Bruno Ziener as Theaterdirektor
-   Erwin Fichtner as ein Kollege Hansens
-   Maria Forescu as Lokalinhaberin
-   Ida Krill as Aufwartefrau im Theater
-   Klaus Seiwert as Kollege Hansens

[1] Grange p.400

title: Ship Without a Harbour

question: When was the film made?

answer: 1932

question: Who designed the sets?

answer: Willi Herrmann.

question: Where was the film shot?

answer: Partly on set, partly on location at Bremerhaven, a north German port.

question: Name the starring cast members.

answer: Harry Piel, Trude Berliner, and Charly Berger.

question: What is the film's genre?

answer: Thriller.

question: Who directed the film?

answer: Harry Piel

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Ship Without a Harbour (1932, dir. Harry Piel) is a German thriller film starring Harry Piel, Trude Berliner, and Charly Berger. It was shot partly on sets designed by Willi Herrmann and partly on location at Bremerhaven, a north German port.