text:
Michael wore aviators that he bought at a gas station. Scratched off the label and told everyone that they were custom built by some Italian guy. But after a Google search of Luigi Vespucci didn't yield an Italian eyewear crafter who specializes in American design, they called bullshit. So Michael called them uncultured.

Michael wore Tommy Hilfiger shirts and shorts with his sun-kissed Sperry's. He had yellow, red, purple, and green ones, seersucker, striped, solid, and dotted ones. He thought they made him look devil-may-care. They made him look snobbish. When there wasn't any sun, he hung his sunglasses off the top button of his shirt to flaunt true Italian craftsmanship.

Michael gelled his hair in a supposedly sensual way. On his chin, the goatee that he had been nurturing for over a month (but which he wasn't old enough to grow) struggled to survive. The wispy hairs swayed lazily with every condescending shake of his head. To his face, people complimented his mature appearance. Behind his back, they giggled mercilessly.

But Michael was proud of that emaciated patch of hair. You have to be proud of everything you accomplish when you don't accomplish much.

Unfortunately, Michael was unbearably proud. One time in grade school, he won Student of the Week. Everyone did, a fact that Michael refused to recognize. His teacher bought him a Dollar Tree medal with a frayed ribbon that read "You're #1!" Joy seizing his fingers, he tried to humbly adorn the honor but ended up beaming like the jack-ass he was. In the dull plastic, Michael saw a movie star loved by millions for his philanthropy, a rock legend who cured cancer, and a rocket scientist selling a million copies of his latest fantasy epic, all of which would be child's play for a man of his infinite potential. Right up to the day he moved out, Michael subtly hinted at his worthless trophy to any newcomer in his room until they had to notice it. He never won anything again.

Lack of material didn't stem Michael's bragging. Strutting across the freshly clipped lawns of his private high school, the sunlight glinting off his golden rings, he extolled his sleek new BMW, his sprawling mansion, and (the one time his parents refused to spoil him) even his shitty sunglasses. While his perfectly manicured fingernails tapped lazily against the delicate hairs of his chin, he complimented his own beautifully lush hair, his tasteful outfit, and the masculinity of his beard. One time he exercised; he bragged about how fit he was for a week. He boasted of his humility, intelligence, and creativity, asserting that the only reason he received subpar grades was he didn't give a fuck. Whenever he managed to muster a crowd, he nonchalantly told lavish, made-up tales of drunken glory, pussy attainment, and other forms of badassery.

And as part of building himself up, Michael tore others down. His tone refining into a sharp, sardonic edge, he mocked their modest homes, scuffed cars, and "gas station" aviators. Many times during lunch, he spilled milk on another's shirt and told them not to get upset since it probably wasn't worth much anyway. He criticized the nerds for trying too hard, the jocks for being idiots, and the poor for being lazy (like most rich kids, he felt he deserved his wealth). It was pitiful.

Aside from his reflection, Michael had few friends. Women avoided him like the plague, only touching him with brief glances of disgust. He spent every weekend alone, socializing vicariously through Facebook. Wherever he sat at lunch, others left. Whenever he asked about the upcoming party, everyone silenced. When people did bother listening to him, it was with a slight, mocking smile on their lips.

Michael got the picture. He knew no one could stand him. So, lost and cripplingly uncharismatic, he decided that the only way he could garner friends would be to garner respect.

But Michael did it all wrong. Since people must know what you've accomplish in order to respect you, he bragged. By exposing others' flaws, he validated his own superiority. And dressing himself in the finest clothes and sporting facial hair gave him a mature, respectable look. Or so he thought.

And what started out as subtle actions designed to win the approval of his peers led to mocking. So Michael upped the ante, but that led to more mocking. And this cycle continued until Michael became just an inescapable parody of himself.

By high school, Michael hated everyone else. Hated that they could be themselves. Hated that they all had girlfriends to share their burdens. Fiery tears burning in his eyes, he watched them laugh together, cry together, and poke fun at each other while he stood alone with only a nice care and a nice house and too much money. He pined to join them instead of being this self-absorbed asshole, but they would claim it was just another ruse to prove his superiority. Be it rational or irrational, Michael saw the only way forward as digging himself deeper into the grave he had begun in grade school.

So Michael wore aviators that he bought at a gas station. Scratched off the label and told everyone that they were custom built by some Italian guy. Because no one respects a man who wears gas station aviators.

title: Gas Station Aviators - 892 words, character description (Any feedback greatly appreciated. Could you see this character in a longer story or novel?)

question: Describe Michael.

answer: Michael is a spoiled rich kid who tries to get people to like him by bragging and putting other people down, but he is unsuccessful. He spends all his time alone, envying other people's lives and relationships, but he can't stop pretending.

question: What do others think about Michael?

answer: They laugh at him and mock him for his exaggerated behavior.

question: What is the only prize he has ever won?

answer: Student of the Week, a prize that was given to everyone at some point during grade school.

question: How does Michael hide the fact that his sunglasses are from the gas station?

answer: He scratches off the label and tells others that they were custom built by an artist in Italy.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The text is a character description. The character, Michael, is a spoiled rich kid who only brags and demeans others, but who secretly only wants their acceptance and friendship.


split: train

text: Just a man with his thoughts. Should I drink? No. Should I smoke? No. But at the end of the day it’s who I am. It’s as short walk, one I have made more times than I can count, but in my mind the steps seem infinite. Where did I go wrong? So much potential they said. So much promise they said; and honestly it’s so much easier to sit on the other side of the table and judge than to experience the true gravity of it all. To sling unjust judgment towards this life, a future that is currently being written and all the while already wrote. I see those flashing lights, I see them night in and night out guiding me home with no true direction. I know where the perceived home is, I know where my lover sleeps, but it is not home. Home only exists in an idea, a place where I once was but will never find again. I stop by the local pub and shoot the same arduous shit I always do. Sports. Politics. Economy. Pseudo intellectual bullshit that happens with a frequency that i could likely have both sides of it with myself. I need to stop coming here, never again, never more. “Quoth the raven never more.”   I smirk, a smile I can only feel knowing that the pedantic idiocy of the yokels know not of this reference and it falls on ill-bred ears. I stand superior to the masses in my mind; their self perceived god ruling an empire of ignorance. I step back into the cold, longing for the brothers that once stood with me years ago. We may talk, we may lament, we may feel. Feel something that once was and will never be again. We have changed. Not necessarily to the people we should be, but to the people we now are. And yet I walk. Walk home to a love out of convenience. A love that happened at the right place at the right time. Not that childish love of youth, the truest kind love that will only exist in a flash, a blink of time only to be perused and never obtained. No this is a different love, one out of a mutual comfort, a comfort of not having to die alone. I burn another one, my only solace in the desolate wasteland that I have chosen. I stand as man who has forsaken my family, forsaken all those who have judge me [those who could judge me.] I will never be their man. I will never be the coattails upon which they hoped to ride. My parents will die old and alone as I cannot give the life they strived for me to feed them. I am cold. Cold with the realization that I am destined to be among the desolate; I fucking hate the cold. I remember, as I will never forget,  the times that I saw life on the silver platter. The times that my family gifted an existence that I could have obtained but never wanted. I will embrace the darkness. I will live the heart ache as if it was written to be mine and mine alone. My own selfishness feelings are the crushing weight of the infinite as though it is the only love I have ever known. I arrive “home.” One. Two. Three. Four. I know what waits for me on the other side of this lead laden door. A woman who desires only my embrace, but at the same time stands on the edge of the travesty that is our existence, fully accepting the misery I have brought upon her. I light up number three…or is it number four…who gives a shit. I would rather die at 30 than live to see myself broken down to nothing. I quietly open the door. The comforting smell of familiarity makes me sick. I hate my comfort, I hate my strife, I hate the obligatory relief I am expected to feel in this dump. I brush off the snow, climb the steps to my every day. It is so set in stone. Fifteen steps towards the love of my life. I chuckle whilst I brush my teeth. Love. What a childish idea that was crushed long ago. Smashed upon the rocks of reality. I pet the dog, I lock the door, I embrace suburbia with the heartache of a man that was destined for more.  I could have embraced the shallow 9-5 and all the predetermined dialogue that lies within. I curl up next to the physical embodiment of our failures. “Tomorrow,” I say, “tomorrow it will be different.” Knowing full well in my heart that tomorrow I will feel the biting cold once again. I find solace in the trivial; solace in the fact that today is but a few brief hours from tomorrow. The day that holds nothing but possibilities but offers the same cold, hopeless walk. I drift off into slumber hoping for better days, all the while with the knowledge that what has been written has been, and always will be written in stone. “Tomorrow,” I say, “that is the day that I will finally come to fruition.”

title: Tomorrow.

question: What is the narrator's sentiment in the story?

answer: The narrator is experiencing remorse and is suffering from a lot of hate. He is in a "good" relationship with his partner, however he hides his true feelings within. He not only hates the cold weather, he hates his comfort, his strife and the familiarity around him.


text:
[]

Critics cite irony of annual report filing: ‘This is a company that everywhere it goes it creates poverty’

(By Lauren McCauley)

[Walmart employees are known to be among biggest Medicaid and Food Stamp recipients in over half of the states. – JRIC]

Although a notorious recipient of "corporate welfare," Walmart has now admitted that their massive profits also depend on the funding of food stamps and other public assistance programs.

In their annual report, filed with the Security and Exchange Commission last week, the retail giant lists factors that could potentially harm future profitability. Listed among items such as "economic conditions" and "consumer confidence," the company writes that changes in taxpayer-funded public assistance programs are also a major threat to their bottom line.

The company writes:

  Our business operations are subject to numerous risks, factors and uncertainties, domestically and internationally, which are outside our control … These factors include … changes in the amount of payments made under the Supplement[al] Nutrition Assistance Plan and other public assistance plans, changes in the eligibility requirements of public assistance plans …

Walmart, the nation's largest private employer, is notorious for paying poverty wages and coaching employees to take advantage of social programs. Inmany states, Walmart employees are the largest group of Medicaid recipients.

However, this report is the first public acknowledgement of the chain's reliance on the funding of these programs to sustain a profit.

According to Stacy Mitchell, senior researcher with the Institute for Local Self-Reliance, the irony of their admission is that Walmart "is the company that has done, perhaps, more than any other corporation to push people into poverty."

Citing a Penn State study, Mitchell told _Common Dreams_ that research has proven that "when Walmart opens a store, poverty rates are negatively impacted" and that the more stores that have opened in a particular county, the worse it is. "This is a company that everywhere it goes it creates poverty."

In addition to their own worker's low wages, Mitchell explains that Walmart, because of their enormous size and market power, have "held down wages for the whole sector."

As a retailer that specifically targets a low-income demographic, Mitchell adds that the "insidious genius" of their business model is that "they have so squeezed American workers […] many feel that their only choice is to shop at Walmart."

The _International Business Times_ reports:

  Prior to the earnings report, Walmart Chief Financial Officer Charles Holley said the company didn't anticipate how much the end to such programs as the unemployment benefits extension would affect it. Specifically, reductions to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program that went into effect on Nov. 1, the first day of the company’s fourth quarter, pose a potential concern. The cuts led to a between $1 and $36 reduction in SNAP benefits per household, or up to $460 a year. Congress is debating reinstating the extension to the program and making the benefits retroactive to Nov. 1, something Walmart would clearly consider beneficial to its growth.

Previously, Walmart has joined forces with Big Food labels such as Coca Cola and Kelloggs to lobby the United States Department of Agriculture and Congress against any measures that would restrict SNAP use to healthy food choices. According to an earlier study by Michele Simon at Eat Drink Politics, in just one year, nine Walmart Supercenters in Massachusetts received more than $33 million in SNAP revenues.

_____________________

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License.

Mirrored from Commondreams.org

——

Related video:

from last fall: RT – “Black Friday protests at Walmart stores nationwide”

[]

question: Who is Walmart's Chief Financial Officer?

answer: Charles Holley

question: Who are known to be the biggest Medicaid and Food Stamp recipients in over half of the states?

answer: Walmart employees

question: What factors were listed by retail giants that could potentially harm future profitability?

answer: economic conditions and consumer confidence

question: Who is the nation's largest private employer?

answer: Walmart

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Walmart is the nation's largest private employer and talking about its business operations and how much it creates poverty is the overall theme of the excerpt.


text:
_THE INVISIBLES_ is a British 2008 comedy drama series created and written by William Ivory for the BBC. It was produced by Company Pictures, shot in the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Premise

Maurice Riley (Head) and Syd Woolsey (Clarke), are “The Invisibles”, a team of retired master burglars. After a string of successful crimes during the 1980s — during which they were never apprehended or identified by the authorities — they retired with their wives to the Spanish Mediterranean coast. In their heyday, the media turned them into minor folk heroes.

Now getting long in the tooth, they give in to homesickness and return to England, settling in a quiet Devon fishing village. They still have enough money to support themselves comfortably (though not as extravagantly as they might be used to), and look forward to a quiet life of fishing and the benefits of the NHS. Circumstances, however, conspire to pull them back to a life of crime. Woolsey's son (Tighe) is in trouble with mobsters, and the son of a former associate (Lennox Kelly) idolizes them and wants them to teach him the business. On top of this, they're feeling old and bored. Early capers prove to them that security technology and the brutality of the criminal life have changed dramatically in two decades, and they've lost their edge as well. But the excitement is undeniable, and they try to make a go of it.

Maurice's wife Barbara (Agutter), initially resistant to their plans, can't deny the positive effect it has on Maurice's demeanour. Their daughter, Grace (Emily Head), is completely unaware how Dad made his money or what he does when he goes out for the evening.[1]

Cast

-   Warren Clarke as Syd Woolsey
-   Anthony Head as Maurice Riley
-   Dean Lennox Kelly as Hedley Huthwaite
-   Jenny Agutter as Barbara Riley
-   Emily Head as Grace Riley
-   Paul Barber as Young Nick
-   Mina Anwar as Helen Huthwaite
-   Darren Tighe as Joe Woolsey

Music

The music was especially commissioned and composed by Nick Green and Tristin Norwell. The brass parts were performed by Guy Barker and Phil Todd.

Production

The series was filmed in the Northern Ireland village of Portaferry, County Down which was considered a good look alike for a Devon village without being so crowded.

It was originally commissioned under the title _Desperados_[2] but was changed to _The Invisibles_ to match the name used by Head and Clarke's characters, and in reference to how people become “invisible” in society as they get older.[3]

The BBC confirmed in March 2009 that it would not be renewing the series for a second season.[4]

DVD

It was released on DVD 14 July 2008 in the UK, and 26 May 2009 in the US.

Episodes

  Episode 1- First aired: 1 May 2008
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  After fifteen years of living it up in the Costa del Sol, Maurice Riley and Syd Woolsey are back in Britain. Mo is determined to keep his promise to his wife and not return to crime, but Syd's son is in trouble and the only way they can help bail him out is to rob again. With the help of their old colleague's son Hedley, the boys try one last job. Or so they say.
  Episode 2- First aired: 8 May 2008
  Maurice and Syd are shocked when Knacker, a copper from their past, rents the flat below them. Maurice struggles to keep him away from his visiting daughter, who doesn't know about his criminal history. Things get much worse for the boys when Knacker reveals he has evidence that could send them both down for a very long time - unless they do a job for him. They complete the job, but Knacker is seen by the authorities and blamed for the crime. He dies during the escape of natural causes, explaining to Mo he wanted the stuff for his wife.
  Episode 3- First aired: 15 May 2008
  Maurice is rattled when Barbara befriends a local aristocrat. When her bracelet is stolen, Maurice is convinced he knows the culprit and will stop at nothing to prove he's right. Meanwhile, Syd runs into his first love and as sparks fly again, he completely goes off the boil.
  Episode 4- First aired: 22 May 2008
  Maurice decides to try and crack the one safe that he could never open, the iron lady, ignoring warnings from Hedley and Syd of a curse on the safe. But, is it really a safe at all? Or is it just a distraction, the real safe, a much smaller one always right next to it. After, he cracks it he makes a getaway. And what beautiful prize does he get for his troubles? A paint bomb! Poof. And the trio of criminals end up looking like the smurfs.
  Episode 5- First aired: 29 May 2008
  Hedley considers leaving the gang and giving up his life of crime after finding out that his wife is pregnant.
  Episode 6- First aired: 5 June 2008
  After their doctor suffers a heart attack, Maurice and Syd realize that they're getting old. They both about trying to be young in very different ways: Syd tries cool clothes, roof jumping and other junkie related stuff, while Mo attempts to stop being short-tempered and become calm and peaceful, to give himself less stress. Barbara actually tries to encourage the weakling Mo to steal the real violin, which belonged to their daughter, but, she knows she's been given back a fake. After bodging the attempt to retrieve the stolen violin, they find themselves in a police siege in the pub. Hedley pretends to be a hostage and Syd and Mo get to grips that they're becoming old. They injure Syd's son in the genital area to get him out of the pub and tell Barbara how passes the message on, so, that their mentor knows what to do. They then escape, disguised and drive a motorbike out through the police squad and to safety, leaving their “Hostage” knocked out on the floor. They all celebrate with a big party in the jacuzzi, to the Invisibles final crime.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4] http://www.digitalspy.co.uk/tv/a151420/the-invisibles-will-not-return-to-bbc.html

title: The Invisibles (TV series)

question: Summarize what the text states about the production of the television series.

answer: The text describes that the series was filmed in the Northern Ireland village of Portaferry, County Down. This location was considered a good look alike for a Devon village, without being too crowded. Additionally, the name of the series was going to be Desperados, but was changed to the Invisibles.

question: How successful was the television series, the Invisibles?

question: Summarize the premise of the television series, the Invisibles.

answer: The Invisibles is a television series that has a team of retired master burglars, Head and Clarke. As a team, they commit a string of successful crimes in the 19880s and then retire with their wives to the Spanish Mediterranean coast. Head and Clarke get bored of their retirement lives and go to back to England and settle in a quiet Devon fishing village. Soon enough, they are pulled back into the life of crime and realized they are really out of the game as technology has gotten ahead of them.


text:
John MacAndrew bent to the ground, picking up the last piece of wood, he placed it with the others.  John's wife sent him out to the woods to find firewood for the night.

On his way back to the farm, John noticed three men in the woods, traveling down an animal made path.  John was expecting them.  Reivers who were sent out to find John and kill him.  Reivers were raiders along the Scottish/English border consisting of both nationalities.  John had earlier joined forces with the Ross clan who where pursuing a group of reivers who had stolen the cattle of the Ross Clan.  John was one archer of supreme skill and made a name for himself killing reivers with his bow.  At the end of the pursuit, John pulled out his bow and struck the Chief reiver in the eye.

As the men walked down the path they noticed a young man carrying a bundle of wood.  The young man was not a tall one, actually he was rather short in stature, and seemed to have trouble carrying the wood as he stumbled and dropped one piece after another.
"You there boy," the reiver said.  "Do you know a John MacAndrew?"
"I know him," John said.  "I'm the servant."
"I need you to show us where he lives."
"Not sure if I can do that, he doesn't like visitors."
What a surprise, thought the reivers.  John MacAndrew was known for his run-ins with border raiders and was constantly in danger from one seeking a vendetta.
"Tell you what," one of the reivers said.  "I will give you two shillings if you bring us to MacAndrew."
"Two shillings? I guess I could take you to his house."
They followed the boy up the path to a small farm and up to the farm house.  The house was not much to look at, at most it looked like it held two rooms.  Outside the house was an old oak tree, it looked as if it been there for centuries.

Claire MacAndrew placed the last log into the fireplace.  She sat at the large table at the center of the room, the table itself almost took up the entire room, leaving little space to walk.  Where is he?  John should be home by now, thought Claire.  It was a cold night and the fire would not last much longer.  There was a knock on the door.  Claire got up from her seat and opened the small wooden door.  Standing outside was her husband and three large men.  John took off his hat and held it with both hands.
"Excuse me Ms,"  John said.  "Is your husband around?"
"He ran off about an hour ago, but he should be around here somewhere."
Claire and her husband had many encounters with reivers.  She knew all about the dangers that seemed to follow John wherever he went.  Once again she would have to help John escape his troubles.  Where would he be without me?  Dead, perhaps, thought Claire.
"Would you like to come in?"
"Do you have food?" said one of the reivers.
"We always have food for guests, please sit down."
The reivers one by one walk in and sat down at the table.  John also walked it with his hat still in hand as he stood patently by the door.
"Samuel,"  Claire turned to John.  "Go fetch the master,  I think he went to check on the cows."
"Yes Ms."
With a smile John put his hat back on and ran out the door, closing the door behind him.

Once outside, John made his way to the barn located behind the house.  The barn was where the MacAndrew's kept farm equipment and newly slaughtered animals.  Inside there was a newly killed cow.  John placed the cow on his shoulder and carried it back to the house.  Placing the cow against the door, with the flesh side up, made it more of a challenge to open the door from the inside.  John turned around to face the old oak tree.  My favorite tree, thought John as he started to climb.  About six meters up, John reached into a hollow crevice within the tree.  He pulled out a bow and a quiver with a supply of arrows.

Placing three cups on the table, Claire poured water for each of the three men at the table.
"I thought you had food."
"I'm bringing you food, I thought you would want some water first."
At the far end of the house Claire opened the pantry where she stored a small provision of food.  She gathered a arm full of small whole wheel size of cheese.
"I hope you all like cheese."
"Cheese?" said one man.  "She has cheese!"
"A whole wheel of cheese." Claire said.  She made her way over to the men, still seated, eagerly awaiting the first meal in half a day of travel.  While walking to the reivers she slipped and fell onto the newly swept dirt floor.  The balls of cheese bounced and rolled away from her in every direction.  The three men all in a hurry flew from their seats and dived for the cheese, fighting each other for the food.  As if they where rodents, desperate for food, crammed the food into their own mouths as if there was no time to chew.  Suddenly the room was filled with the cry of the young man.
"MacAndrew is coming!"  the boy yelled.  "John MacAndrew is on his way!"
The men struggled to get to their feet.  One choked as he tried to spit a large piece of cheese from his mouth.  They rushed for the door, but there was something pressing against the small wooden door, slowing their escape.

John watched as if someone was struggling to open the door.  The fresh cow carcass was doing what he wished.  John pulled out an arrow from his quiver.  Pulled back on his bow, aimed at the door and waited.  The door slowly by little budged open more and more.  A large jut finally flew the door open as the carcass fell in front of the door with the skinned side facing upwards.  The first of the reivers rushed out.  He slipped on the skinned carcass and landed on his back.  John released his first arrow.  The arrow struck the man in the neck entering from the lower part of the neck and traveled upwards towards the skull.  Reiver number two emerged from the farm house, sword in hand.  He looked around, as if he was scanning his surroundings.  John released his second arrow.  The reiver looked upwards towards the oak tree.  The arrow struck the man in the head, killing him instantly.  The third and final reiver staggered out, still choking on his piece of cheese roll, sword in hand.  The third arrow left John MacAndrew's bow.  Striking the man in the spleen.  The man fell as he screamed in agony.  John released a fourth arrow.  Hitting the man in the stomach, followed by a fifth arrow to the chest.

John placed his quiver of arrows and bow back into the crevice of the old oak tree.  As the climbed back down his wife came out to see what had happened.
"You know they will send more men to find you."
"Let them come,"  John said.  "They are not the first, and they will not be the last raiders I kill."
"Don't you think it would be wise to move north?"  Claire said.  "I mean--away from the border, away from the cattle raiders?"
"Why?  John asked.  "This is our home.  If they want to steal my cattle and my way of living they will have to get past me first.  I'm not going to be chased away from my home."
"I'm just not sure how many times I can get you out of trouble John."
"Don't worry, I'm the best archer this place has ever seen.  I'm not going anywhere soon."

title: John MacAndrew and the Reivers

question: What does the story say about why John disguised himself as someone else when he encountered the reivers in the woods?

answer: John MacAndrew was a very skilled archer who had joined forces with the Ross Clan to pursue some reivers who stole cattle belonging to them. For this, he became a target by the reivers who sought to take him out for trailing them. Hence, he knew they were after him because he had faced other reivers prior. When he encountered the reivers in the woods while fetching some firewood for his house, they inquired after John (himself). Since it was apparent that they didn't know what he looked like and had no idea the person they were after was him, he decided to disguise himself as a random villager, promising to take them to his house.

question: Summarize how John managed to outsmart and eliminate all the reivers.

answer: When John arrived at his house with the reivers, his wife Claire, who always covered for him, welcomed them into their house and played along with John's antics. While she entertained the men with cheese inside, John went to the barn behind their house, took a newly slaughtered cow, and placed it against the main house entrance to trap them in temporarily. Afterward, he climbed up the oak tree opposite the house to lie in wait for them. He drew their attention outside by yelling that John (himself) was approaching. After succeeding in forcing the door open, John aimed his bow and arrow at them as they appeared one by one and killed them all. John used his skill as an archer and his wits to successfully eliminate the men after his life.


text:
Have you ever been in a relationship with a friend or significant other (someone who is your boyfriend, girlfriend, partner, friend with benefits, etc.) that didn’t always feel right?

Our relationships can be fun, exciting, and rewarding, but sometimes they can become unhealthy. And while we cannot give you the answers to all of your questions, we can help you answer whether or not your relationship is healthy – and that’s a pretty great place to start!

[girl holding boy's hand affectionately]

Take the Quiz

Is your relationship healthy? Let’s find out: HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP QUIZ

The Healthy Relationship Quiz is produced by YWCA Canada in consultation with girls and young women across the country, with content and language reflective of how youth are seeing and experiencing dating and relationships today (pictured below is a downloadable resource).

[Image of "Is Our Relationship Healthy?" quiz]

When we hear the word “relationship”, we often think of romantic relationships, but we also have relationships with our friends, family, teachers, coaches, and co-workers. Relationships are a big part of your life so it’s important they’re healthy ones!

Do the quiz to help you see the signs of a healthy vs. unhealthy relationship so that you can know when to work on it or leave it. Remember that working through the bumpy parts of relationships may be hard and awkward, but it is part of taking care of yourself. It’s important to remember that an unhealthy relationship can happen to people of any gender, age and sexual orientation.

Safety Tips

Our romantic relationships and friendships start somewhere. Here are some safety tips for becoming involved in both:

-   Be assertive in what you are and are not comfortable with. Be aware of your surroundings.
-   Keep safe and meet in public places for the first few dates or double date! Restaurants, the movies, or a park, are all great date ideas. Stay safe, even if you already know this person through school or a friend.
-   Let someone you trust know where you are going and when you expect to return.
-   Have a backup plan to get home: if you have a phone, make sure it is charged. Have your own money in case you need to take a bus or taxi (310-TAXI) quickly. Have a friend, parent or someone you trust on standby to pick you up. Or, consider using an app for a ride service that is attached to a bank card or credit card.
-   While we are not responsible for the actions of others, keeping our drinks in our hands and being aware of how much we are drinking are wise things to do.
-   Use your smarts! If something doesn’t feel right, always trust your instincts.

Wait – What is Consent?

Giving “consent” is when you agree, by your own choice and not out of fear, pressure, or guilt, to participate in sexual activities like penetrative or oral sex, foreplay, and even kissing! If someone does not give consent, for example they say “no”, or do not answer, or have taken drugs/drinking, if the sexual activities are continued it is assault which is a serious crime. It is important to remember that even if you said YES in the beginning, you and the other person can say NO / STOP at any point.

Questions

If you have questions about your relationship or what you can do to help keep yourself safe, call us anytime, day or night.

question: Write three possible questions in the quiz.

answer:
1. Do your peers praise you for your work?
2. Do your teachers/bosses know how to de-escalate a heated argument?
3. Do you feel emotionally drained after spending time with a friend?


text:
_HYDROCYNUS FORSKAHLII_, the ELONGATE TIGERFISH, is a species of predatory characin from the family Alestidae which is found in northern and western Africa.

Description

_Hydrocynus forskahlii_ has pronounced stripes along the length of the body. There are two scales between the pelvic fin insertion and the lateral line, less than for other species of togerfish such as _Hydrocynus brevis_ which has 23-5 scales in the same position. The lateral line scale count is between 46 and 53 scales and the anal fin ray count is 3 soft, unbranched rays with 11-14 branched rays. It is a slenderer species than other Hydrocynus and the depth of the body averages 22.6 per cent of its length and the head averages around 20 per cent of the body length. It has 9 to 14 teeth in the upper jaw and 8 to 12 in the lower jaw and the jaws are frequently short and upturned. They are similar in colour and pattern to _Hydrocynus vittatus_ being bright, silvery white in color, but with a grayish tail that has red, orange or yellow colour only on its lower lobe.[1] [Illustration from Fishes of the Nile by George Albert Boulenger 1907]

They are normally less than 30 cm in length, although large specimens may be 45 cm and they normally weigh about 2.3 kg, the world record rod caught specimen was 4.08233 kg.[2] Although a maximum weight of 15.5 kg has been reported.[3]

Distribution

_Hydrocynus forskahlii_ is found in central Africa in Lake Albert, Lake Turkana and Lake Gandjule and in the Congo River, Omo River and Nile. In West Africa it occurs in the Chad Basin, Niger River, Benue River west to the Senegal River and River Gambia. It is also present in coastal river basisn and in the Cross River basin, Wouri River and Sanaga River.[4] In some basins it is sympatric with _Hydrocynus brevis_.[5]

Habitat

_Hydrocynus forskahlii_ is a pelagic, potamodromous species of open water, it prefers the well oxygenated surface waters.[6]

Ecology

Little known, the sources quoted in Fishbase and the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species for the behaviour of _Hydrocynus forskahlii_ appear to refer to _Hydrocynus vittatus_ in Lake Kariba.[7][8] The West African pike characin _Hepsetus odoe_ avoids competition with and predation by _Hydrocynus forskhali_ by showing a preference for the upper courses of rivers where _H. forskahli_ is less abundant or is absent.[9] In Lake Kainji, Nigeria, _Hydrocynus forskahlii_ preys mainly on small clupeids however the largest specimens feed more heavily on the characid _Alestes baremoze_.[10]

Taxonomy and naming

_Hydrocynus forskahlii_ was previously considered synonymous with _Hydrocynus vittatus_ _sensu lato_, hence the confusion mentioned under Ecology above, but this view is not supported by recent molecular studies. In fact, it is suggested that there are two species within the lineage currently recognised as _H. forskahlii_, with the newly identified lineage being confined to the Sanaga River.[11]

The generic name _Hydrocynus_ is from the Greek _hydro_ meaning water and _kyon_ meaning dog and is a direct translation of the Egyptian Arabic name for this species _Kelb el bahr_, or water dog. The specific name commemorates the Swedish explorer and naturalist Peter Forsskål.[12]

Economic importance

_Hydrocynus forskahlii_ is preserved by salting, especially in Upper Egyptian Nile, but most are now imported as salted fish from Sudan.[13] Tigerfish are rare in the aquarium trade but this species is the most commonly traded and kept species.[14] As _Hydrocynus forskahlii_ is a commercially important species it suffers from heavy fishing pressure. In addition it is threatened by dams, water pollution, groundwater extraction and drought.[15]

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title: Hydrocynus forskahlii

question: What is the Hydrocynus forskahlii?

answer: This is the elongate tigerfish, a species of perdatory characin commonly found in northern and western africa. They can be identified by their characteristic stripes along the main body (which is probably why they are called tigerfish), and they are bright and silvery in color with tails that have either red, orange, or yellow color. The average elongate tigerfish is about 30cm in length and weigh about 2.3kg. The world record for a caught specimen is 4kg though there are reports that they can reach up to 15.5kg.

question: Where are they usually found?

answer: The elongate longfish can be found in the various lakes around central Africa (Albert, Turkana, and Gandjule), as well as in the Congo, Omo, and Nile. In West Africa, it can be found in the Chad Basin, Niger river, Benue river, Senegal river, and River Gambia. It also appears in other areas as well.

question: Is the elongated tigerfish an endangered species?

answer: The text does not provide drect information, though there is no implication that the tigerfish population is dangerously endangered. It is stated that they are subjected to overfishing practices, and the usual dangers of exposure to human infrastructure such as dams, pollution, etc.

question: What is the value of the elongated tigerfish?

answer: They are consumed as food (preserved by salting). In the aquarium trade, tigerfish in general are rare, but most of the tigerfish that are available are usually the elongated tigerfish.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The elongated tigerfish is a native fish in Central and Western Africa. They are usually the length of a ruler and weigh a couple of pounds, but it has been reported that they can be much heavier. They bare usually caught and sold as food (preserved in salt), and in the rare instances that a tigerfish is sold for aquariums, it is usually the elongated tigerfish.


text: I began this life thousands of years ago on a rock wall somewhere in Africa. I painted the idea of you before such drawings could make sounds in our heads. And every time I come back, I'm the same. This is not the first time you've read this. I've told you a thousand times over a thousand years. I am no more the first me that's ever been than you are the first you. And we certainly won't be the last.

title: The Repeat

question: Who or what is the narrator?

answer: There is not enough information to answer the question.

question: Who is the narrator speaking to?

answer: The reader.

question: What is the purpose of this story?

answer: There is not enough information to answer the question.

question: How old is the narrator?

answer: There is not enough information to answer the question.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This story is a dialogue between some ancient entity and the reader.


text:
1

It had only been a few days since we had left the mainland, and only a week since the infection had been first reported. Corpses scattered across war zones, covered with the settled remnants of radioactive dust from chemical weapons had begun reacting... twitching... moving. It was only a day later that the first scientists and reporters became the first victims and the first living humans turned. From there, the destruction and rate of infection had exploded.

Within 24 hours of the firsts, reports came in of massive hordes of reanimated corpses occupying major cities... turning all that stood in their way. Several countries tried sending their armies to quell the situation, but that only worsened it. Guns only did so much to zombie armies, hundreds of thousands deep, and with large explosions from tanks and bombs, came even wider contamination due to the chemicals in the corpses being disturbed and pushed higher into the atmosphere. It had become airborne...

The only escape was to rural areas, or to the sea. I chose the latter... it was only a matter of time before even the rural areas would not be as safe as people had hoped.

"LAAAAAAND!"

An island... Those in charge had said that there we would be safe from any sort of infection. We were students and teachers. Soldiers and doctors. Men, women, and children. We were, quite possibly, one of the few hopes for maintaining the species.

"Where the hell are we?" Sgt. Reynolds barked at one of the older gentlemen who had been appointed captain of the vessel. The original captain was... well, he didn't make it. Reynolds was a former Drill Instructor and has taken to appointing himself the leader of our group. At least we had someone to tell us what to do... Most of us were so disillusioned with the situation that we could barely talk.

There were only a few dozen of us who had made it onto the ship from the harbor. It was a miracle any of us had made it off the mainland alive, and even more so considering the only food we had we were lucky enough to have recovered from the bowels of the ship. It seemed as if the original captain had been preparing to live at sea until he could come up with a plan as to how the hell he could survive in a world full of flesh devouring corpses... But food for one man only goes so far between a group.
Zombies. They were fucking zombies. All of the films and stories had done nothing more than make us lower our guard as to how real a possibility the walking dead were.

"I have no idea, but we don't have the resources to care right now."
Most everyone was on deck, now, staring at the monolithic island before us. Whether we liked it or not, it was our new home, for now anyways. I, for one, was eager to get off the ship. I had always been afraid of the emptiness of the ocean. Funny how little your fear of the unknown matters when you’re faced with fear of something much greater and much more terrifying. Still, it felt great to know I would be able to step off of that heap I considered to be my floating coffin.
Staring at the coastline, all I could see was sand, and a thick tree line leading into a lush forest. I was looking at trees I had never seen before that looked like they had been there for far longer than I could imagine. Vines and thick brush started to come into view the closer we got. And then something in the trees... Fruit! Or at least something that resembled the fruit I was familiar with! We were going to be able to survive for at least some time longer. Relief flooded my body. Relief that we were going to be ok. That I wasn't going to die at sea with no hope of survival. Relief that...

My eyes locked onto something in the underbrush as we closed in further on the island. Something reflective... but what? The relief turned to panic as I realized what I was staring at. We were being watched. Those were eyes.

I glanced around for Reynolds. We needed to be prepared that we might have company when we landed. The undead? Impossible. Not this far out, there was no way. By the time I had looked back, the eyes were no longer visible to me. Maybe I was seeing things...
"Start unloading some supplies for a reconnaissance team to check out the island and we'll see if we can find any food, shelter, or signs of intelligence on this rock." Reynolds booming voice effortlessly carried itself.

I had convinced myself that I just needed to get off of the boat when a shriek erupted from the forest. A sound like nothing I had ever heard. The sound of a screaming jet engine combined with the emotional tones of something living... something communicating. Birds flew from the canopy of the forest as we all stared silently into the mysterious interior of the island.

"It doesn't matter, we can't stay on board," Reynolds projected over the deck, already knowing what we were all silently wondering.
"Besides, nothing can really be as bad or as frightening as what we've all already seen and been through..."

None of us could have possibly known how wrong he was.

title: I'm writing a short story... well, it's turning into a long story, about zombies and dinosaurs.  I would love some feedback.

question: What does the story say about the species of dinosaur that was on the island?

question: What does the text say about the setting of the story?

answer: The story is set after a war that involved radioactive dust from chemical weapons. It is an apocalyptic future wherein the corpses scattered across the war zones reacted with the radioactive chemicals and began to reanimate into zombies. Within 24 hours, massive hordes of reanimated corpses were occupying major cities and turning everyone into zombies. Military intervention only made matters worse as the explosions pushed the chemicals higher into the atmosphere and the infection became airborne.

question: What does the story say about humanity's last hope of maintaining the species?

answer: They are a group of a few dozen survivors on board a ship out at sea, searching for an island. The group consisted of men, women, and children. They were students, teachers, soldiers, and doctors led by Sgt. Reynolds, a former Drill Instructor who took it upon himself to be the group's leader because everyone was too disillusioned with the situation and could barely talk. The group needs to find land to survive because they have no supplies left.

question: What does the story say about the island the group was heading for?

answer: The mysterious island is monolithic and the group's new home for now whether they like it or not. From the deck of the ship, the island had a coastline with sand and a thick treeline that led to a lush forest. The trees, vines, and thick brush didn't resemble any known species and looked prehistoric, but some trees bore fruit. The island was inhabited by something that was watching the group from the underbrush, letting out a shriek that sounded like a screaming jet engine that has come alive.


text:
-   March 6, 2011
-

It is a truth universally acknowledged that education is the key to economic success. Everyone knows that the jobs of the future will require ever higher levels of skill. That’s why, in an appearance Friday with former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, President Obama declared that “If we want more good news on the jobs front then we’ve got to make more investments in education.”

But what everyone knows is wrong.

The day after the Obama-Bush event, The Times published an article about the growing use of software to perform legal research. Computers, it turns out, can quickly analyze millions of documents, cheaply performing a task that used to require armies of lawyers and paralegals. In this case, then, technological progress is actually reducing the demand for highly educated workers.

And legal research isn’t an isolated example. As the article points out, software has also been replacing engineers in such tasks as chip design. More broadly, the idea that modern technology eliminates only menial jobs, that well-educated workers are clear winners, may dominate popular discussion, but it’s actually decades out of date.

The fact is that since 1990 or so the U.S. job market has been characterized not by a general rise in the demand for skill, but by “hollowing out”: both high-wage and low-wage employment have grown rapidly, but medium-wage jobs — the kinds of jobs we count on to support a strong middle class — have lagged behind. And the hole in the middle has been getting wider: many of the high-wage occupations that grew rapidly in the 1990s have seen much slower growth recently, even as growth in low-wage employment has accelerated.

Why is this happening? The belief that education is becoming ever more important rests on the plausible-sounding notion that advances in technology increase job opportunities for those who work with information — loosely speaking, that computers help those who work with their minds, while hurting those who work with their hands.

Image[Paul Krugman]

Credit...Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times

Some years ago, however, the economists David Autor, Frank Levy and Richard Murnane argued that this was the wrong way to think about it. Computers, they pointed out, excel at routine tasks, “cognitive and manual tasks that can be accomplished by following explicit rules.” Therefore, any routine task — a category that includes many white-collar, nonmanual jobs — is in the firing line. Conversely, jobs that can’t be carried out by following explicit rules — a category that includes many kinds of manual labor, from truck drivers to janitors — will tend to grow even in the face of technological progress.

And here’s the thing: Most of the manual labor still being done in our economy seems to be of the kind that’s hard to automate. Notably, with production workers in manufacturing down to about 6 percent of U.S. employment, there aren’t many assembly-line jobs left to lose. Meanwhile, quite a lot of white-collar work currently carried out by well-educated, relatively well-paid workers may soon be computerized. Roombas are cute, but robot janitors are a long way off; computerized legal research and computer-aided medical diagnosis are already here.

And then there’s globalization. Once, only manufacturing workers needed to worry about competition from overseas, but the combination of computers and telecommunications has made it possible to provide many services at long range. And research by my Princeton colleagues Alan Blinder and Alan Krueger suggests that high-wage jobs performed by highly educated workers are, if anything, more “offshorable” than jobs done by low-paid, less-educated workers. If they’re right, growing international trade in services will further hollow out the U.S. job market.

So what does all this say about policy?

Yes, we need to fix American education. In particular, the inequalities Americans face at the starting line — bright children from poor families are less likely to finish college than much less able children of the affluent — aren’t just an outrage; they represent a huge waste of the nation’s human potential.

But there are things education can’t do. In particular, the notion that putting more kids through college can restore the middle-class society we used to have is wishful thinking. It’s no longer true that having a college degree guarantees that you’ll get a good job, and it’s becoming less true with each passing decade.

So if we want a society of broadly shared prosperity, education isn’t the answer — we’ll have to go about building that society directly. We need to restore the bargaining power that labor has lost over the last 30 years, so that ordinary workers as well as superstars have the power to bargain for good wages. We need to guarantee the essentials, above all health care, to every citizen.

What we can’t do is get where we need to go just by giving workers college degrees, which may be no more than tickets to jobs that don’t exist or don’t pay middle-class wages.

question: How did the U.S. job market change since the '90s?

answer: The U.S. job market has been "hollowing out" since 1990, meaning both high and low-wage employment have grown rapidly, but medium-wage jobs that support a strong middle class have lagged behind. Many of the high-wage occupations that flourished in the '90s have seen much slower growth recently.

question: What point is the author trying to make?

answer: The author is saying education is no longer the key to economic success because technology is reducing the demand for highly educated workers.


text:
Pale eyes, crewcut after a long stint of length, rounded unabashed nose, strong lips leading to a sag in the very muscle of the face, all pointing to a strong cleft chin, only vaguely hidden by stubble. Eyes of alcohol stained isolation, but not many saw that, only the mirror and those who accompanied him past his strange-focus setup. In all truth, Stockton Miller was a fair and unmoving man, except for sudden outbursts that had seemed to accelerate in occurrence since his final years of high school until a point in life, now twenty-three, where they were on par with his natural and accepted baseline. He was, in all manner speaking, a psychopath (and notably, still is), yet his behaviour was not that prescribed to the word psychopath, and, as his gut told him, was more like a number of other statistics in populations that cast aside the cliche so long-glued to the aura of psychopath and instead chose to live as a productive member of society. An affinity for jeans and blazers, weather permitting, sitting this day aged blue tweed blazer, dark blue cutting through threads of light, blank white T beneath, loosely hanging over thin body, slight rolls in the skin unseen beneath, aged lightblue jeans tight on skin, canvas shoes tightly laced, belt only for purpose, strong stance leaning back against soft fabric couch, dark red against soft blue, legs crossed, hand behind head sorrow eyes looking at the only interest in the room, interest staring back with apprehension, intrigue, thoughts of feelings same as red light running.
Freight train conversations rolling through, eyes fixed, depression interest, she glanced back, eye contact unnerving, both taking sips of red wine, pouring more. Melissa Salaway. Thin brown hair, light voice, face pale and clear, eyes ready to receive information, wide wide pupils, lengthy nose but only obvious on studying her face, gaunt jaw, bones like plumbing. Black dress, loose, modest, dark blue cardigan, dull flats. She sat and listened for the most part, glancing occasionally at Stockton, engaged almost completely, clattering tracks of ideas rolled through. Most of brain attached to conversation, small slither analysing, body language, phrases, watching eyes.
	“Hey uhh… If I die and your hair’s still growing when I do, don’t let anybody pray for me. Tell them to stop it. And uh, if, by this time, you end up saying words about me, that is if you still uh, admire me, by that time enough to say words about me then don’t tell anyone about me, tell them about my ideas. Tell them that I’m just an assortment of well positioned atoms. Tell them about the fact that I’ll only die if my ideas die. Tell them that my ideas will continue whirring as long as people can think them.”
By this time Stockton could feel a rush coming on and decided to keep talking, better judgement notwithstanding.	“And uh, I think that the time may come quite soon. Not soon as in months or day but soon for a twenty-three year old.I think thirty. Yes, thirty,” The rush gaining strength, vision blending into thought, dragging him down into deep depression, bad energy proving immovable, kept from tears only by constant talking.
	“Yes, I’m going to die on that lone highway. I saw it the other day, you see. A car, and I don’t even drive. A car, me propped up against the door frame, dirt slightly shaken, legs splayed out in from of me, toes pointing straight up. And then I remembered that I had just been shot in the head, or had I shot myself? It doesn’t really matter. I died there. I tried to talk myself out of it, only half aware that it was the dream, and these things give you the impression of inevitability anyway, real or not. Well yes I tried to talk myself out of it, slowly, then sharp and harsh, not desperate or insulting, but harsh. I felt myself die. I woke up then, slight adrenalin buzz wore off and I felt nothing. This is why today is about death. I’m sorry. I really am. I never talk well to others. I imagine topics so well in my head and they always fail to be of worth in reality. I’m sorry.” Stockton felt that he was more a person to be talked about than talked to, regardless of how many ideas he tried to give away.
Rush receding, almost a sense of self accomplishment for having withstood, yet grasping onto the draining force, knowing that it won’t come again with any sensible reason, and as worrisome as it was it felt good, felt being the most important term.
Melissa stood up and took another bottle of wine, started pouring in both glasses.
	“I find that interesting, you seem to be admitting and embracing this death yet, in that exact moment, you tried to talk yourself out it.”
	“Well that’s put down to the fact that I was twenty-three in my dream. I wasn’t thirty.”
	“Oh! Well then I suppose it comes down to how far the subconscious is willing to go to make this happen, and subsequently how little your conscious is willing to fight it. Of course I have my own personal response and please re-think this, but I know you well enough to predict that any attempt to convince you otherwise will just strengthen your resolve. So uh, if you do decide to off yourself, do it near me at least.”
	“I don’t know where this is going to take me but I’ll try. I’ve been missing you for a while, even when I’m talking to you. My guess is that it’ll all fold up into one large crunch, and in a mad rush something will happen. Simply put, things will explode. Whether we’ll be together remains unseen. From what I can guess it’ll be in a few years at least but the way things are going..” Stockton trailed off, eyes focusing on the wine slowly streaming down his throat.
	“Stockton I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”
	“Oh but you know I can’t help it, for, of course, ‘I am a Karamazov!’”
	“Shut up with all your book stuff.”
	“They write for their readers, you know.”
	“You’re not going to die.”
	“Ah, my dear, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you failed to grasp the summary of your 6 years of studying biology. We all die. I’m just going to finish existing sooner than some other people. You’re lucky you didn’t fall in love with some african aids orphan. At least we fucked.”
	“Fuck you Stockton. Somedays you’re so fucking vile. Get a fucking grip. You’re wingeing about your fucked up life and doing nothing but drinking yourself to death and deceiving yourself that your writing is worth anything. Clear up your shit. Every night it’s the same thing. Depression or violence or happiness, you only have three. It’s so simple. They’re just a triangle and you hit them each in series. You’re a fucking loser.”
Stockton laughed. Windows into other worlds flashed through his head while he made up his mind on what kind of emotion he should put in his response. Whilst he was good at dolling out emotions, he still had a tidbit of trouble knowing which ones  were appropriate.

title: 'Pale eyes, crewcut'

question: Who is Stockton Miller?

answer: Stockton is a twenty-three-year-old man who believes he will die at the age of thirty.

question: Where are Stockton and Melissa sitting?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: Why does Stockton believe that he will die soon?

answer: Stockton has a dream about his death.

question: Does Stockton suffer from any mental illnesses?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer:
Stockton was considered a psychopath throughout high school. He was currently twenty-three. While conversing with Melissa he mentions that he would die at thirty and that he had a dream about it.

While Melissa thinks of this as sheer stupidity and calls him a loser, Stockton laughs and deliberates a proper emotional response.


text:
HOLY TRINITY CHURCH (formerly ST MICHAEL'S CHURCH), is in the village of Bolton-le-Sands, Lancashire, England. It is an active Anglican parish church in the deanery of Tunstall, the archdeaconry of Lancaster, and the diocese of Blackburn. Its benefice is united with that of St Mark, Nether Kellett.[1] The church is recorded in the National Heritage List for England as a designated Grade II* listed building.[2]

History

A church has been on the site since before 1094.[3] The oldest parts of the present church are the tower and the north arcade, which date from the late 15th century. The nave was built in 1813.[4] In 1847 the Lancaster architectural practice of Sharpe and Paley rebuilt the chancel,[5][6] and in 1851 added a pulpit and a reading desk.[7] The church was restored in 1863–64 by E. G. Paley (by this time Sharpe had retired from the practice).[8] In 1881 the practice, now Paley and Austin, carried out further alterations, which included widening the north aisle, adding a vestry, a porch, a pulpit, and a font, lowering the floor, removing the gallery, opening the tower arch, replacing windows, reseating the church to accommodate 450 people, and retiling and refitting the chancel.[9]

Architecture

Exterior

The church is constructed in rubble with slate roofs. The tower is in ashlar sandstone, and the south wall of the nave is pebbledashed. Its plan consists of a nave, a north aisle, a south porch, a chancel and a west tower. The tower is in three stages. In the bottom stage is a west door and a three-light window.[10] This window is flanked by niches with pinnacles.[11] The bell openings also have three lights. The tower is supported by diagonal buttresses, and on its summit is a battlemented parapet.[12] At its southwest is a projection for stairs.[13] The windows in the south nave wall contain Perpendicular tracery.[14] The chancel is in Early English style.[15]

Interior

The arcade is in five bays running between the nave and chancel, and the north aisle.[16] It is supported by octagonal piers, other than the second pier from the east, which is rectangular.[17] The nave has a hammerbeam roof, and the chancel roof is scissor-braced.[18] Between the chancel and the aisle is a sandstone memorial to the memory of a man who died in 1642 with the inscription “It is supposed that he lived above 100 yeares”.[19][20] Elsewhere there are 19th-century monuments in Classical style, and brasses dated 1692 and 1872. The reredos is in alabaster and dates from 1897. The stained glass in the west window dates from 1891. It depicts archangels, was designed by Carl Almquist, and made by Shrigley and Hunt.[21] The glass in the chancel windows was designed by William Wailes.[22] Also in the church are two pieces of carved Anglo-Saxon stone dating from the 10th century.[23]

External features

In the churchyard to the south of the church is a square sandstone cross base with two steps. Its age is not known. It is surmounted by a later square block and a 20th-century cross.[24] The churchyard also contains the war graves of two British and one Canadian soldier of World War I.[25]

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title: Holy Trinity Church, Bolton-le-Sands

question: Summarize what happened to the church during the 1800s.

answer: The nave was built in 1813, the chancel was rebuilt in 1847, and a pulpit and reading desk were added in 1851. It was completely restored in 1863-64 by E. G. Paley. At some point during the 19th century, several monuments were added in Classical style, and there is a brass dated from 1872. In 1881, many alterations were made, including widening the north aisle, adding a vestry, porch, pulpit, and font, lowering the floor, removing the gallery, opening the tower arch, replacing windows, reseating to accommodate up to 450 people, and retiling and refitting the chancel. In addition, the church's stained glass west window was made in 1891, and the reredos dates from 1897.

question: What does the text say about the churchyard?

answer: The churchyard is to the south of the church and consists of a square sandstone cross base with two steps. Its age is unknown, and it is surmounted by a later square block and a 20th-century cross. It contains the war graves of two British and one Canadian soldier of World War I.

question: What does the text say about the church's use today?

answer: It is an active Anglican parish church in the deanery of Tunstall, the archdeaconry of Lancaster, and the diocese of Blackburn. It is also recorded in the National Heritage List for England as a designated Grade II* listed building.

question: What does the text say about the buildings near the church?


text:
“You know, you accuse me of horrible atrocities; War crimes, treachery, genocide, among others. I could try to defend my actions, tell you why this is not the case, but I fear you would not believe me. You don’t see the world how I see it, you don’t understand what needs to be done. Your world is what you see around you, your neighbours, your postman, the waitress at the bar you visited that one time on holiday. You think of the world as countries, places, people. It is this view that prevents you from seeing what I see. And unfortunately it is a view shared by the vast majority of our species.”

“Try me. You act as though you are a saviour to mankind. Messiah come down to save our mortal souls.”

“Save you? I’m not here to save you. I do not deny what I have done, what I plan to do, will cause loss of life. I will even concede it may cause a large number of deaths. This however, is irrelevant. I am no messiah, no saviour. I am however, a necessary part of the future.”

“Careful Mr. Thomas, you’re in danger of descending into a bond villain.”

“Please.” Thomas said with an indignant smile. “I would think such comparisons are a touch naive. I am not pure evil, diluted down to the basest elements of my personality, so audiences know to hate me. No. I, like you and every other sane person on this planet, am a combination of good of evil; a moral cocktail, made of a mixture of ideals, beliefs, thoughts, both moral and immoral. I simply choose to embrace the side of myself, most would rather leave dormant and unused, fearing the consequences of tipping their ‘moral compasses’ too far into the red.”

“You say you are not evil, yet you do not deny intentionally killing millions of people?” Francis slapped the table quietly.

“You would not call mother nature evil would you? Or the bacteria responsible for disease? Just because something is responsible for many deaths does not make it evil. Our race kill hundreds of millions of other species every year, would you call yourself evil?”

“You compare yourself to a force of nature?”

“I am not so vain as to make comparisons like that. I only mean to demonstrate that causing death does not constitute evil. However, I may indulge in comparison this once to show you the benefit of my work. That said I would not compare myself, rather our works. I am a necessary step in our progression. I am doing what needs to be done to move our species forward.”

“Evolutionary process? Move our species forward? And you aim to do this by killing millions?”

“Those deaths are an unfortunate, unavoidable consequence of what needs to be done. They are a means to an end. It is not through the death of any one person, or group of people that this can be achieved. Only through the unfortunate suffering of many, through the conflict causing such suffering can we achieve our next step.”

“Thomas, war is never necessary. It can’t, shouldn't be. There are other ways. No matter what your master plan for the continuation of mankind is it cannot be necessary to cause the outbreak of another war.”

“No Mr. Kelly, there is no other way. War is the catalyst we need to trigger the next great step in our advancement, technologically, socially, economically. The vast majority of humanities great leaps happened during times of strife. War is our greatest tool in the drive forward, conflict our greatest teacher; A stimulus for the true advancement of our race. Only when there is a clear enemy, when people recognise that their lives are in danger if something is not done, will people accept what has to be done. They will rally together, endure economic rationing, and push harder for the technological advances they can use to win their war. That is where the real prize comes from. Our weaponry is what fuels the rest of the world. Man develops a new kind of weapon, and then that technology is adapted and used in other walks of life.”

“We do not need war to innovate and develop. Look at the last 100 years, we have practically lived with worldwide peace the entire time, with some outstanding innovations and technological advancements. Look at how far medicine has come, how much the world has changed with the advent of molecular transference. Not to mention finally sequencing the human genome, and all the possibilities coming from that. Is this not proof enough of our ability to push without conflict?”

“Medicine has stalled. You know that as well as I do. We have reached as far as we can with what we have. We need something new. And I wouldn’t count finishing a project started during the cold war as a victory for non conflict inspired thought. While I will give you the development of molecular transference as a good step forward, its implementation has been lazy. It was developed to be used as people expected, but where is the innovation now? Where are the uses that blow your mind? The uses no one saw coming? Give a technology like that to war time engineers and watch as it explodes into one of the greatest technologies ever created. We might still be creating, still innovating, we might even have the right people in place to make things happen, but at the minute they are handicapped. Kept on a shoestring in order to allow Johnny somebody out there to have a second home, buy a car for his daughter on her birthday, and retire early to a life more comfortable than 3 generations previous could’ve dreamed of. I mean to create an incubator for these kinds of ideas. When I succeed, and I will, you will see funding pour into laboratories around the world, each side vying to claim the next great discovery for themselves. The scientists and engineers around the world will have the freedom to try anything in pursuit of the perfect weapon. And when they find it, the war will end, and there will no longer be a need for a perfect weapon. They will find new ways to adapt their weapon to the new world, find ways to help the world. This is my goal.”

“Again you claim to help the world. And yet you desire the destruction of its inhabitants? You don’t want to help the world, you aim to destroy it. You are a monster.”

“Please Francis, try not to let your emotions run away with you.  I am no more a monster than you are. I give to the charities, and help the old ladies just like everyone else, I do not want to cause any unnecessary deaths. I cannot say the same about necessary ones. And I would hate for yours to become necessary. You need to return to your home, to your wife, and forget about your attempts to change my mind. I’m afraid it is a fool’s errand.”

With that, he got up and walked for the door, stopping only to hold the door for a woman carrying a small child. Francis watched him go.

*“Maybe he’s right” He thought. “Maybe I should just go home. I don’t know how to stop him. I know Kate thinks I’m paranoid, but he has just admitted to everything. I know now what he plans to do. But what do I do with that information? I don’t know how to stop him. I don’t even know how exactly he plans to do it. He has the ear of the right people. He can do it. I’m sure of it.”*

Francis got up and headed for the door. Outside he turned left. He didn't have a destination in mind. He just needed to think.

*“I can’t let him get away it. There must be something I can do. Someone I can talk to. I can’t just go to the police. Not yet. What would I tell them? Help, my neighbour wants to start a war? They’ll lock me up! No. I need some kind of proof.”*

He stopped outside a hardware store. He went in and bought a flash light, screwdriver, a padlock, and a bolt cutter.

*“For all the technologies, and advancements, sometimes old methods are best.”* He thought. Then he went home.

title: Tools of Men

question: Why does Thomas think that wars lead to progress?

answer: In war, people innovate and develop. They rally together, endure economic rationing, and push harder for the technological advances they can use to win their war.

question: Does Mr. Kelly agree with Thomas that wars lead to progress?

answer: No, Mr. Kelly thinks that we do not need war to innovate and develop.

question: Will someone prevent Thomas from starting a war?

answer: It is implied that Francis intends to stop Thomas.

question: Is Thomas good or evil?

answer: He thinks he is not, but the others think he is.

question: What if Francis does not make to stop Thomas?

answer: Thomas will start a war.


text:
THE FLOPS were a collaboration of John Munson (bassist of Semisonic and Trip Shakespeare) and Matt Wilson (frontman of Trip Shakespeare). They played several shows, mostly in Minneapolis, between 2001 and 2005. They covered material from the Trip Shakespeare days, Matt's solo efforts (Matt's 1998 CD, _Burnt, White, and Blue_) and some new material.

In 2003 they released a CD titled “Ohh La La” with one music disc and one CD-ROM story disc (some of which were defective) called _Ohh La La: A Tale of Love, Loss, Rock and Roll_ by Sam Magavern.[1]

In 2006 they contributed a performance of “On Top of Old Smokey” to the compilation _Down by the Riverside: A Benefit for Reuben Lindh Family Services_.

They announced in their farewell show (Mar 17, 2007) that they would be returning in the fall with a new band in full rock mode, but that they would be “leaving all their best songs behind”. The new band was said to be called “the Dark Nights” and had a slight website at thedarknights.com which, at the moment, seems no longer active. The Flops website TheFlops.com domain has expired Jan 12, 2008.

In late spring of 2005, John Munson began playing in a new trio, “The New Standards”, featuring Chan Poling (of The Suburbs) and Steve Roehm.

At the Provention Concert (September 2, 2008 at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, Minnesota), John Munson and Matt Wilson performed as The Twilight Hours[2] and announced that they will have a new album coming out in the fall.

The Flops: _Ohh La La_ track list

1.  “Deep All the Way Down”
2.  “Two Wheeler, Four Wheeler”
3.  “Trick”
4.  “Hello Caller”
5.  “Drummer Like Me”
6.  “Landing”
7.  “Ooh La La”
8.  “Travel Plans”
9.  “Searchers”
10. “Face Up”
11. “Sun Is Coming”
12. “Reception”
13. “I'm in Love with a Girl” (cover of an Alex Chilton song)
14. “Susannah”

[1] Information about the CD can be found at http://mockingbirds.info/ooh-la-la/index.html

[2] http://www.thetwilighthours.com/

title: The Flops

question: What is the thematic link between the subsequent names for John Munson and Matt Wilson's collaborative projects after the flops?

answer: They are both related to times of day--night (the Dark Nights) and twilight (The Twilight Hours).

question: What is the significance of the Dark Nights website being inactive?

answer: Presumably it means the band is also inactive.


text:
The inspiration behind this project comes from an outdated term, "going green". The word has lost its meaning; perhaps it has gained new meaning as a utopian image that only the most naive or young hippies can adhere to. Going green meant keeping our blue marble the way it was.

Fortunately, the days of flower-headbanded hippies is past, and so are the days of longing for realistic potential for renewable energies. With technology and prices making strides unlike ever before, wind and solar energies are on a level playing field with coal power, and soon natural gas and nuclear. People across the world are starting to turn to renewable energy not because it's flashy, ethical, or cool, but rather because it _makes sense._
_
_ Renewables won't just keep the earth green, they'll help keep the whole earth colorful. I present: the Keep Earth Colorful campaign.

To use these images, please contact Daniel Knuth at dknuth92@gmail.com

question: What is meant by "going green"?

answer: It used to denote keeping the Earth in a pristine state, environmentally speaking.

question: Why does renewable energy make sense now?

answer: Its cost has reduced enough and continues to do so. It makes economic sense to switch to renewables.

question: Why did people want to use renewable energy in the past?

answer: Because it was flashy, ethical, or cool.

question: What energy sources can wind and solar replace?

answer: They are economically viable replacements for coal power.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Inspired by the old phrase "going green", the Keep Earth Colorful campaign champions renewable energy. Fortunately, it now makes economic sense to use wind and solar instead of coal, and the renewable prices will match natural gas and nuclear in the future.


text:
I hated that ancient pair of shoes.  Supporting a wife and child meant I had to make them last.  The backs had fallen apart and the metal cut into my heels with every goddamn step I took.  They had been digging the same holes into my feet all week but, as I walked to my car after a long day of work, it was especially intolerable.  Maybe that was why I was so short with that girl when she approached me.

My eyes were on the ground as I walked through the outdoor parking lot.  I couldn't wait to be home.  I took solace in the fact that my wife and daughter would be asleep.  I could sneak in and clean the cut on my forehead and stop the bleeding from my knuckles before they saw me.

Behind me, I heard someone call out, "Hey, Mister."

Knowing my city, the odds were high that anybody approaching me in a parking lot at night was about to stab me and take my wallet.  I snapped to attention, swiveling my head around and balling my hands into fists.  I flinched in pain as I remembered my hurt knuckles.

To my relief, there was only a hooker behind me.  She held her hands together and shook as if she was cold.  But I knew why she was actually shaking.

"No thanks," I said as I turned and started to walk back to my car.

"Actually, I, uh, I was wondering if you were, you know, carrying," she said, teetering up behind me on her high heels.

"No."

"Oh.  Well, you know, I'm really in need of a fix, Mister."

"Sorry to hear that," I lied.

"Well... can I at least suck your dick, Mister?  I need some money."

"Don't say that," I said without turning around.

"Who are you, my dad?"

"No, just don't say what service you're offering.  If I were a cop I'd be able to arrest you.  Just tell guys that you want to party."

"Oh.  Sorry, Sir."

Her accent was gone but manners like those didn't come from the city.  She still had her Southern charm.

"Well, actually, mister, maybe you could give me a ride."

"No."

"Oh, please.  It's only a few blocks.  I really need a fix.  Really bad."

"I have to get home," I said as I spotted my car.  Justa  few more steps in those goddamn awful shoes.

"It's a dangerous walk, Mister.  Please, Mister.  Please."

"It's even more dangerous to get in a car with a stranger, you dumb bitch!" I snapped as I turned to face her.  "You don't know a goddamn thing about me but you're still trying to climb into a car with me!"

"You have a kind face, Mister," she said meekly.

I turned to walk to my car, laughing.  "Really?  You think so?  Well you're a shitty judge of character."

I was infuriated when I could still hear her steps behind me.  As I reached my car, I faced her again.  She was sobbing.  Underneath the running makeup I saw her face for the first time.  Her lifestyle made her age twice as fast, but I could see her youthful eyes glistening with tears.  She couldn't have been out of her early-twenties.  Her eyes reminded me of my daughter's.  That unsettled me.

"Can you please take me home, Sir?" she sobbed.  "The bus station isn't far from here.  I just wanna go home to my daddy.  I never wanna see this city again."

"You have a father and a home?" I asked in disbelief.  "Then why the hell did you leave them for this shithole of a city?"

"Please, Mister.  Don't make me walk over there at this time of night.  The bus station is just a few blocks away."

The bus station was on the other side of town and I had no interest in staying out any later than I had to.

"Can't you see that I have blood pouring out of my head and my knuckles!  I'm a violent person!  I make a living through violence, for God's sake!  And you're trying to jump into a car with me because you think I have a kind face?  I hope my daughter grows up to be a better judge of character than you."

I froze when I realized the implications of what I had just said.  I was a violent man.  The kind that I wouldn't want my daughter anywhere near.

I was hypnotized by my realization when I felt the girl put her hand on my shoulder.  I did not know how to respond to affection.  So I responded with violence.

I backhanded her across the face.  I swore as I remembered my injured knuckle and held my hand to fight the pain.  The hooker backpedaled, holding her face.  She looked back to me one last time and yelled, "That's why!  That's why I left my father for this shithole of a city!"  Then she stormed off into the darkness.

At last, I sat in my car.  I didn't start the engine, though.  I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror.  I studied myself, trying to see why anybody would think I had a kind face.  To this day, I still can't see what that hooker saw in my face.

Maybe it was because I saw what became of that girl from the South.  Maybe it was because of the violence in my job.  Maybe it was because I wanted to get a new pair of fucking shoes.  Whatever the reason, I didn't go home that night.  I never saw my daughter again.

title: Why I Abandoned My Daughter

question: What does the story say about the narrator's relationship with his daughter?

answer: He prefers for his daughter not to be exposed to the violence he commits. He doesn't want to be around his daughter for that reason and winds up abandoning her.

question: Summarize the requests the hooker makes of the man.

answer: She first asks if he has any drugs on him. Then she asks if she can give him oral sex for money. When he turns her down, she asks him to give her a ride home.

question: What does the story say about the city the characters are in?

answer: It's a violent city, based on the fact that the narrator expects to be mugged. It's also dangerous to walk through at night, according to the hooker. The narrator calls the city a shithole.

question: What does the story say about the daughter's reaction to being abandoned by the narrator?


text:
This is a post-break up story. Dated a girl in Berkeley for a while, was devastated for a while, and ended up in Michigan for an internships. Anyways, hope you enjoy it:

I’d just come out the other side of a relationship that abruptly ended
I was depressed, and disillusioned, and ultimately self-destructive.
I’d lost everything I believed in and loved.
I was as utterly, completely alone as I’ve ever been.
So I began losing myself in alcohol and work.

I started working late at night around the Berkeley campus—school, RAZA, anything to keep me busy and going home to be alone. I’d start walking back home late every evening, and come back close to 2 AM, sometimes later. Walking and thinking and chewing over what had gone wrong with my life.
One night around 3AM, on Dana and Channing, I got lightheaded and collapsed. Maybe due to the lack of sleep, constant drinking and horrible eating patterns. I woke up around 6AM completely confused about what had happened. I went on several days having health problems, but I’d simply ignore them and drink myself to fall asleep at night at times. I was content with whatever was going to happen, live or die.
It took a couple months to get over the daily self-destruction that resulted after the late August break up.
But two things came out of this incident.
First: I would no longer give her the power to have such control over me. None whatsoever. She had a tendency to send ambiguous texts at times that would just make me relapse and fall back into memories of her and ultimately further into my depression. Her voice was my favorite song to sing along to, but it only brought heartache now.
Second: I was determined to get well and start enjoying life again.
No longer would I be a social recluse and push people away I told myself. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to fake a smile anymore and genuinely be happy.
But my idea of moving on was severely and unfortunately misguided and stupid. I would eventually fall into the pits of so many young Latino males before me. Something I always promised myself I’d never turn to. One night stands, using cheap meaningless sex to attempt to forget that intimacy of summer’s past. Women lied to and used. My new attempts to move on only made me miss her that much more and make me feel even worse about myself.
 At this point I just wanted Fall Semester to be over. I wanted spring to come to turn a new leaf. I wanted to go home and be with people I knew loved me. I no longer wanted to put up a front, no longer wanted to pretend to be that funny happy guy people have come to know and expect, I just wanted to be void of all responsibilities so I can just finally have the time I needed to get over it. But for now I just continued with the façade of my routine.
 Winter came and was just what I needed. Hibernating in the harbored emotions and thoughts without any distractions. And finally I realized that our relationship was doomed from the start. We thrust ourselves into that relationship on quick initial impressions. Met her April 22, and a week later was officially my girlfriend. No time to really get to know each other, but over the course of the summer became one of my closest friends. But that’s all she should have been. Girls like her; they are like those beautiful songbirds of the Midwest. Meant to be free, their songs not as beautiful when resonating in a steel cage.
I would have appreciated a warning label…you dream about what it’s like to kiss a girl like that in the most beautiful places, but when you do and its all gone and return to those places you can’t help but feel their lips pressed up against yours all over again.
Its true that I could have shown her more appreciation, but isn’t that the way it always goes? You never realize what you have or how you’ve taken things for granted until its all gone. And by then its always too late to go back, too late to make up for the mistakes, too late to apologize for the wrongdoing.
 But at that point I stopped thinking about what I did wrong, and started thinking about what I learned. I don’t hold any hatred or grudges against her. She gave me hope. She showed me a side of love I’ve never experienced and doubt would ever duplicate. And love really is a wonderful thing. Its something that needs to be cherished and continuously worked on. Just because it was there before, that does not ensure it will always be. Love is the flower in the garden, it needs constant attention to ensure it will grow and not wither away.
 Spring semester came and went. No longer was I anchored by depression and angst. I was happy again. Able to meet new people, enjoy myself and be able to look her in the face without feeling a rushing sense of fear and pain shoot through the very core of my being. Spring semester showed me that time will really heal all wounds. And even with the wounds stitched up tightly, scars will remain. But it is no longer a painful reminder of love lost, but a badge commemorating a once marvelous time.
 And it’s amazing what a difference a year makes. Someone who meant so much at one time reduced to a stranger…and that’s really what we’ve become, strangers with memories.
But it’s also amazing what a change in scenery can do. Wandering into the unknown. Taking risks. That’s what life’s about. My journeys have taken me to the green lands of the pacific-northwest, the arid landscapes of the south, and even here…to the lost woods of the tip of the mit Michigan. Her once tormenting voice fades into depths of my head, like thunder off into the cold, dark distance. The memories begin to fade like the sunlight into the depths of these royal blue lakes.
And on this quest to lose myself, I have found what I was looking for, without ever being quite sure what it was.
I have found a new song, a new song to sing along.

title: [NF] I wrote this the other day while slightly drunk, I haven't edited it, but people told me it was decent, what do you guys think? I call it "Drunk in Mackinac"

question: Summarize the positive elements of the narrator's failed relationship.

answer: Shortly after the narrator and the girl met, the girl became one of his closest friends. She gave him hope and showed him a side of love he'd never before experienced.

question: Summarize everything relating to negative emotions.

answer: After the end of the relationship, the narrator feels depressed, disillusioned, and self-destructive. He feels completely alone. The narrator's ex has a tendency to send ambiguous texts that would further his depression, and her voice brings him heartache.

question: What does the story say about the type of person the narrator's ex is?

answer: She has a tendency to send ambiguous texts. The narrator compares her to a beautiful songbird of the Midwest: meant to be free.

question: What does the story say about the reason the narrator's relationship ended?


text:
EUGENE VALENTINO CHERICO (April 15, 1935, Buffalo, New York – August 12, 1994, Santa Monica, California) was an American jazz double-bassist.

Cherico played drums as a child and played in a special services band in the Army, but injured his hand and picked up double bass as therapy. He attended the Berklee College of Music, where he met Toshiko Akiyoshi, with whom he would tour and record intermittently for many years. He also worked as a sideman with Herb Pomeroy (1957–59), Maynard Ferguson (1959–60), Red Norvo (1961), Benny Goodman (1962), George Shearing (1963), Stan Getz (1964–66), and Peter Nero (1966–70). He also recorded with Gary Burton and Joe Morello in 1961 and with Paul Desmond in 1961 and 1963.

Cherico spent much of the 1970s as a studio musician, working with Frank Strazzeri (1973, 1975), Louie Bellson, Lew Tabackin, Gerry Mulligan (1974), and Akiyoshi. He also did work as an accompanist to singers such as Peggy Lee (1966), Carmen McRae (1970), Frank Sinatra (1973-1982), and Nancy Wilson. He toured extensively with Sinatra into the next decade. He retired in 1984 after being diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin lymphoma.

Discography

WITH TOSHIKO AKIYOSHI

-   _Toshiko and Leon Sash at Newport_ (Verve, 1958)
-   _Long Yellow Road_ (Asahi, 1961)
-   _Live at Birdland_ (Fresh Sound, 1961)
-   _The Toshiko – Mariano Quartet_ with Charlie Mariano (Candid, 1961)
-   _Toshiko – Mariano Quartet (in West Side)_ with Charlie Mariano (Takt, 1963)
-   _Kogun_ (RCA, 1974)
-   _Long Yellow Road_ (RCA, 1975)
-   _The Many Sides of Toshiko_ (Verve, 1975)
-   _Dedications_ (Discomate, 1976)
-   _East and West_ with Charlie Mariano (RCA, 1977)
-   _Notorious Tourist from the East_ (Inner City, 1978)
-   _Toshiko Plays Toshiko_ (Discomate, 1979)
-   _Just Be Bop_ (Discomate, 1980)
-   _Toshiko Akiyoshi Trio_ (Eastworld, 1983)

WITH PAUL DESMOND

-   _Desmond Blue_ (RCA Victor, 1962)
-   _Take Ten_ (RCA Victor, 1963)
-   _Glad to Be Unhappy_ (RCA Victor, 1965)
-   _Easy Living_ (RCA Victor, 1966)
-   _Late Lament_ (RCA, 1974)

WITH STAN GETZ

-   _Getz Au Go Go_ (Verve, 1964)
-   _Getz/Gilberto #2_ (Verve, 1965)
-   _The Girl from Ipanema_ (Polydor, 1966)
-   _Stan Getz_ (Verve, 1987)
-   _Stan Getz & Friends_ (Verve, 1988)
-   _Joao & Astrud Gilberto Meet Stan Getz_ (The Entertainers 1988)
-   _Nobody Else But Me_ (Verve, 1994)
-   _Live at Newport 1964_ (Solitude, 2014)
-   _Getz Plays Jobim: The Girl from Ipanema_ (Verve, 2002)
-   _Body and Soul_ (Verve/Universal, 2006)
-   _The Brilliant Canadian Concert of Stan Getz_ (Can-Am, 2008)

WITH ASTRUD GILBERTO

-   _Brazilian Mood_ (Metro, 1977)
-   _Astrud Gilberto_ (Verve, 1987)
-   _The Astrud Gilberto Album_ (Jazz Door, 1991)
-   _Astrud Gilberto's Finest Hour_ (Verve, 2001)
-   _Astrud for Lovers_ (Verve, 2004)

WITH GEORGE SHEARING

-   _Out of the Woods_ (Capitol, 1964)
-   _Rare Form!_ (Capitol, 1966)

WITH FRANK SINATRA

-   _She Shot Me Down_ (Reprise, 1981)
-   _L.A. Is My Lady_ (Qwest, 1984)
-   _Sinatra: Vegas_ (Reprise, 2006)
-   _Sinatra: New York_ (Reprise, 2009)

WITH FRANK STRAZZERI

-   _Taurus_ (Revelation, 1973)
-   _Frames_ (Glendale, 1975)

WITH OTHERS

-   Louie Bellson, _Louie Rides Again!_ (Percussion Power, 1974)
-   Roy Burns, _Big, Bad & Beautiful_ (FPM, 1973)
-   Gary Burton, _New Vibe Man in Town_ (RCA Victor, 1962)
-   Irving Cottler, _I've Got You Under My Skins_ (Project 3, 1982)
-   Maynard Ferguson, _Maynard Ferguson Plays Jazz for Dancing_ (Roulette, 1986)
-   Peter Nero, _Nero: Fantasy and Improvisations, Gershwin: Concerto in F_ (RCA, 1968)
-   Red Norvo, _Vibes a La Red_ (Famous Door, 2003)
-   Bill Perkins, _Remembrance of Dino's_ (Interplay, 1989)
-   Sylvia Syms, _Syms by Sinatra_ (Reprise, 1982)

title: Gene Cherico

question: Summarize Cherico's career.

answer: He was a double bassist who picked up the instrument as therapy for his injured hand. He met Toshiko Akiyoshi at the Berklee College of Music. They toured extensively together for years. Cherico worked with many musicians in his career. His studio works were with Gary Burton, Joe Morello, Paul Desmond, Frank Strazzeri, Louie Bellson, Lew Tabackin, Gerry Mulligan, and Akiyoshi. He worked as an accompanist with many musicians, the most notable being Frank Sinatra for almost 10 years. After getting diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin lymphoma in 1984, he retired.

question: What does the article say about the therapeutic effects of music on cancer?