text:
   Thrust into a world he knew nothing about, his face emotionless and blank, betrayed the multitude of nerved questions running through his mind. What world is this? What was he? *Who* was he? And most importantly, who was the figure that had held him so closely just a moment ago?  A glance at his surroundings revealed a dimly lit room, plain and empty apart from the desk scattered with paper, cloth, and art materials. The only curious item that caught his eyes was an hourglass of sand that hung on the wall. As he watched it intently, it turned upon itself and sand began to speckle the bottom of the glass clock.
	His appearance was similar to that of a doll, crudely made, with button eyes and hastily stitched threads that held his cotton body intact.  He was without extravagance but of course he knew nothing of extravagance or that he had naught but a few differing colors of cloth to assuage his rather ugly appearance.  In a struggle to move, he shakily attempted to stand and drag his feet a few slow strides toward the desk. A book opened before him, without prompt, and showed a diagram of a puppet, one that looked very much like him. Lines and scratchings flanked the portrait and he ran his stubby fingers over the unreadable, complex writing.  He suddenly became aware of an urge to obtain this diagram, but in reality, however limited his definition of reality was. He wanted to hold it, just as the lost figure had done in his moment of inception. He did not know what seized his mind for such a longing but was guided by an ambiguous passion. He flipped through the pages of the book, each riddled with pictures of materials and further writing and arrows.
   He has discovered a purpose for his otherwise questionable existence and held this feeling close, afraid he may not have any other feeling, no hope or ambition or want to do anything else. Without word or thought, He began to work, pouring over the texts and collecting materials in the room. He began with the body, sewing, with shaky, unskilled fingers the cloth and eventually formed the stringy outline for her: his creation. In a flurry of threads, a blur of needles, and the push of subconscious loneliness, he worked, tirelessly.
   The result of his affection and effort was a dirty lump of threads and cloth stuffed with cotton that vaguely resembled Him. He had decided that the puppet was his accomplishment and he clutched her unmoving body in his hands, waiting for animation to occur. He sat in the desk’s chair for an indeterminable amount of time and stared at the hourglass on the wall, sand still draining from the top, but now nearly near empty. When she neither moved nor held him in his growing loneliness, he shuddered and began to shake violently with remorse and disgust for his existence.  He slumped to the frigid floor looking down on his hideous creation. With the cold of the room biting on his prior eagerness and the silent soliloquy of questions again running through his mind, he gave up. In grief and anguish a single tear welled up on his button eye fell on her lifeless body.  A motion caught his attention as the puppet on the ground began to stir. A burst of warmth shot back into his body and he lifted her in his small ugly arms and held her close.  He looked up in time to see the last grain of sand flow from the hourglass. With a subtle smile of stitched yarn, he disintegrated into oblivion, leaving her alone. The hourglass rotated on itself and the sand began to trickle again.

title: Puppet Coninuity

question: Who is the main character?

answer: He is a puppet of some kind.

question: What is in the book?

answer: Instructions on how to create a puppet.

question: What causes the new puppet to stir?

answer: A teardrop from the original puppet.

question: What happens to the main character when the hourglass finishes?

answer: He disintegrates into oblivion.

question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.


split: train

text:
ZINC–COPPER COUPLE is an alloy of zinc and copper that is employed as a reagent in organic synthesis. The “couple” was popularized after the report by Simmons and Smith in 1959 of its application as an activated source of zinc required for formation of an organozinc reagent in the Simmons–Smith cyclopropanation of alkenes.[1] The couple has been widely applied as a reagent in other reactions requiring activated zinc metal. Zinc–copper couple does not refer to a rigorously defined chemical structure or alloy composition. The couple may contain varying proportions of copper and zinc; the zinc content is typically greater than 90%, although an alloy containing similar proportions of zinc and copper is used in some cases. The couple is frequently prepared as a darkly-colored powder and is slurried in an ethereal solvent prior to being used in slight excess relative to the substrate. Activation of zinc by copper is essential to the couple’s utility, but the origin of this effect is poorly documented. It is speculated that copper enhances reactivity of zinc at the surface of the alloy.[2]

Synthesis

Zinc–copper couple has been prepared by numerous methods, which vary mainly with respect to the source of copper, but also by the ratio of copper to zinc, the physical state of the zinc (e.g. powder or granules), the use of protic acids and other additives, and temperature of the preparation. Most often the couple is generated and isolated prior to use, but routes have been described to storable forms of the alloy. Most methods involve reduction of an oxidized copper species with zinc, which is used in excess.

An early method for the synthesis of zinc–copper couple entailed treatment of a mixture of zinc dust and copper(II) oxide with hydrogen gas at 500 °C.[3] A more convenient and cheaper method proceeds by treatment of zinc powder with hydrochloric acid and copper(II) sulfate.[4] Treatment of zinc powder with copper(II) acetate monohydrate in hot acetic acid is reportedly highly reproducible.[5] The couple may also be generated in situ by reaction of one equivalent of zinc dust with one equivalent of copper(I) chloride (or copper powder) in refluxing ether.[6]

The choice of method is dictated primarily by the application. The development of newer methods was motivated by the need for zinc–copper couple with reproducible behavior.

Application

Zinc–copper couple has found widespread use in organic synthesis, especially in the Simmons–Smith cyclopropanation of alkenes. In this process, the couple (typically a slurry in an ethereal solvent) reacts with methylene iodide to generate iodomethylzinc iodide, which is the intermediate responsible for cyclopropanation.

    {Zn_\mathit{n}(Cu)} + CH2I2 -> {IZnCH2I} + Zn_{\mathit{n}-1}(Cu)

    []

The couple has also been employed to generate alkyl zinc reagents for conjugate addition, as a dehalogenating reagent, as a promoter of reductive coupling of carbonyl compounds, and to reduce electron-deficient alkenes and alkynes. Sonication has been employed to enhance the rate of the zinc–copper couple-mediated cycloaddition of α,α’-dibromo ketones to 1,3-dienes.[7]

    []

[1]

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title: Zinc–copper couple

question: What does the text say about nickel?

question: What does the text say about Zinc-copper couple?

answer: Zinc-copper couple is an alloy of copper and zinc that is used as a reagent in organic synthesis. The "couple" was popularized after the report by Simmons and Smith in 1959 of its application as an activated source of zinc required for the formation of an organozinc reagent in the Simmons-Smith cyclopropanation of alkenes. The couple has been widely utilized as a reagent in other reactions needing activated zinc metal. Zinc-copper couple doesn't refer to a rigorously defined alloy composition or chemical structure. It is speculated that the reactivity of zinc at the surface of the alloy is enhanced by copper.

question: What does the text say about how zinc-copper couple is synthesized?

answer: There are many methods to prepare zinc-copper couple. Preparation varies mainly due to the source of copper, but also by the ratio of copper to zinc, the physical state of zinc (e.g. powder or granules), the use of protic acids, and other additives, as well as the temperature of the preparation. Most methods involve the reduction of an oxidized copper species with zinc, which is used in excess. Routes have been described to prepare alloy that can be stored, but most often, the couple is generated and isolated prior to use. The application dictates the method of choice.

question: What does the text applications for Zinc-copper couple?

answer: Zinc-copper couple has found widespread use in organic synthesis. The couple has also been used to generate alkyl zinc reagents for conjugate addition as a dehalogenation reagent, as a promoter of reductive coupling of carbonyl compounds, and to reduce electron-deficient alkenes and alkynes. Sonication has been employed to enhance the rate of the zinc-copper couple-mediated cycloaddition of α,α’-dibromo ketones to 1,3-dienes.


text:
TIJUANA SWEET HEAT is a liqueur made from gold tequila infused with Agave nectar. As a result it is 35% ABV.[1][2] The product was introduced in 2015 by the Sazerac Company and is sold in the United States. It is available in , , and .[3]

Reception

Fox News reviewed Tijuana Sweet Heat, and found that it is suitably formulated for use in shooters, but noted that the label, which claims that it is infused with “100% agave nectar” might lead to the incorrect assumption that it is a pure agave tequila, not a liqueur,[4] as did other reviewers.[5]

Tijuana Sweet Heat has drawn wide comparisons to Fireball Whisky: DrinkSpirits.com noted that it offered a similar brand promise to Fireball, being “overly sweet” but ideal for use in shots.[6]

MSN reviewed Tijuana Sweet Heat, saying the spirit could be the next Fireball, or Fireball’s cousin. They noted tequila purists likely would miss the point of the product, as it is not meant for traditionalists, but for fans of Fireball. The reviewer preferred the product as a shot.[7]

EverydayDrinkers.com says Tijuana Sweet Heat could be the next Fireball. The reviewers commend the quality of Tijuana Sweet Heat, especially compared to products at a similar price point such as Jose Cuervo. The reviewers make note that the product would be perfect for Margaritas and mixed drinks. They specifically praise Tijuana's level of agave sweetness, in that it just needs sour mix for cocktails. [8]

A review from FirstWeFeast is called “Tijuana Sweet Heat is the next Fireball”. The review discusses that Millennials may start seeing Fireball as too mainstream to be cool, and Tijuana Sweet Heat is well poised to fill that void. The review adds Tijuana Sweet Heat is “sweet and easy to shoot(...)”. [9]

VinePair praised the Sazerac company's decision to utilize a Tequila base, calling the move a bright one, as tequila demand is high among millennials. They continue to praise Tijuana Sweet Heat's marketing approach, one that values a grassroots connection with everyday people, rather than partnering with celebrities. [10]

Spirits judge and writer Derek Brown sees Tijuana Sweet Heat as a product not intended to be well received by tequila aficionados and purists. [11] [12]

Tasting Notes

Tijuana Sweet Heat features sweet agave syrup complemented by white pepper, bell pepper, dill, and roasted agave. Many reviewers have noted a sweet middle and end. [13] Underlying tequila emerges in the mid palate with white pepper. The finish ends with a small pepper kick.

Availability

Tijuana Sweet Heat is sold in the US.[14]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

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title: Tijuana Sweet Heat

question: What kind of liquor is the drink?

answer: Tequila

question: What percent alcohol by volume is it?

answer: 35%

question: What other product has it drawn comparisons to?

answer: Fireball Whisky

question: When was the product introduced?

answer: 2015

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Tijuana Sweet Heat is a liqueur made from tequila infused with Agave nectar. It was introduced by the Sazerac Company in 2015 and has drawn frequent comparisons to Fireball Whisky.


text:
The last two days had been very strange for me. I killed a man on a psycho’s lawn, and the next day, the psycho came into my office and asked if I would like to eat lunch with him. He seemed to be acting perfectly normal. I noticed his speech pattern had changed as well. He wasn’t saying “ya” or swearing anymore. Something was off. Or maybe Noah had just realized how messed what we had done was.
I put it out of my mind, and started to enjoy myself. Noah was actually very intelligent and funny. He must have been intelligent from the start, I concluded, he is a lawyer after all. He was probably just drunk for the last week. I chuckled at the thought.
We finished up our lunch, and headed out to my car. Noah said he had left his phone at my office, so I offered to take him there before I took him home. He thanked me in an uncharacteristically gratuitous way. However, I didn’t sense anything was amiss, and we got in.
Big mistake. The minute I got in the car, Noah pulled out what looked like an ingot, and bashed me across the head with it.
I woke up in a small, cramped room that I recognized as the interior of Noah’s shed.
“Took you long enough,” said Noah in a cold voice. “What the fuck?” I demanded.
“I can’t have another murderer taking advantage of Noah, now can I,” he said in that cold voice, “No, I’m going to have to kill you I suppose.”
“What? No! Noah, you don’t have to do this. I’m not going to tell anybody, you can let me go.” I knew he wasn’t going to.
“Noah’s not here right now. If you’d like to leave a message, please don’t. I screen his calls.”
Noah had finally snapped. The bastard was crazy.
I tried to reason with him, “C’mon Noah. You know you don’t have to do this!”
“I TOLD YOU I’M NOT NOAH!”
“If you’re not Noah, who are you then?”
“BELLUA.”
No. It couldn’t be. Noah had talked about Bellua so much, but always acted as Bellua was a friend or something. I finally put the pieces together.
“Yes, I can see the truth has finally dawned on you,” Noah/Bellua drawled, “Frankly, I don’t see how an idiot like you became a neurosurgeon. Let me explain it to you. I’m the original Noah. The Noah you know is simply a second personality of mine. Noah was born after I was caught in an explosion. That’s why he is so fixated on fire. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, but now that I have the Other Noah, it is so much easier for me to cleanse this disgusting society. The Other Noah agrees. He doesn’t have my capacity, so he uses fire as his tool. It’s crude but it works. Why, just recently he managed to rid society of a bartender who was a serial rapist. I’m much more dedicated however. I take out the real sickos. Like you. And Other Noah will dispose of your body. You pretend to kill only bad people, but what about the little girl who you kidnapped and did unspeakable things to? What about the man you decapitated for fun? ANSWER ME? Why’d did you do it? Did you have any reason? NO! I may be a monster, but I know that! People like you, who pretend to be infallible, make me sick!”
My cheeks were so cold. I couldn’t believe it. How did he know all this?
I knew I was going to die. I began to say an Our Father.
“YES. This reaction. I love it!” Noah/Bellua bellowed, “The ‘prayer,’ as if pretending to repent to an entity you’ve never believed in will make it all better. Using religion as a fair-weather friendship with God, I love it! But why bother praying to God now? I control your life now: I am your God. Pray to me!”
I said nothing. Noah/Bellua began to pace, muttering something under his breath.
“What?” I said.
“Squares!” He murmured a little louder,
I realized what he was doing: getting ready to kill me. Finally, I closed my eyes, went limp,  and gave up.
But he wouldn’t let me do that. He yanked up into a sitting position forcefully, and suddenly I felt metal being pressed down, then a sharp pain in the back of my neck. He wouldn’t stop. It felt like he was cutting something out. When he finished, he showed me what he had done. The square piece of my skin he had cut out was dripping with my blood.
“And now, I must bid you adieu,” Noah/Bellua whispered into my ear. And all was dark.

title: Bellua (Original Short Story by Me) p.3 Rust (Final Part)

question: Why does the narrator think Noah was drunk for the last week?

answer: Because he believes Noah is actually intelligent despite it being implied that he did not act intelligent for the past week.

question: What mental condition does Noah suffer from?

answer: Dissociative identity disorder

question: Does the narrator survive at the end of the story?

answer: No, he probably does not.

question: What is it implied that the narrator did to the girl?

answer: "You pretend to kill only bad people, but what about the little girl who you kidnapped and did unspeakable things to?" implies that the narrator sexually assaulted the little girl.


text:
CONON OF NESLE (died 1180), son of Raoul II of Nesle and Gertrude, daughter of Lambert, Count of Montaigu. Châtelain of Bruges, Count of Soissons. Conon became Count of Soissons upon the death of his uncle Yves II in 1178.[1]

In 1164, Conon married Agather of Pierrefonds, daughter of Dreux, Seigneur of Perrefonds, and his wife Beatrix. They had no children.

Upon his death in 1180, Conon was succeeded as Count of Soissons by his brother Raoul.

Sources

Dormay, C., _Histoire de la ville de Soissons et de ses rois, ducs, comtes et gouverneurs_, Soissons, 1664 (available on Google Books)

[1]

title: Conon, Count of Soissons

question: Who is Conon's predecessor?

answer: His uncle Yves.

question: Who is Conon's successor?

answer: His brother Raoul.

question: How long did Conon reign?

answer: From 1178 to 1180, about 2 years.

question: What were his wife's titles?

answer: She didn't have an aristocratic title. Her father was a landowner.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Conon of Nesle (d. 1180), son of Raoul II, became the Count of Soissons after his uncle Yves's death in 1178. He had married Agather of Pierrefonds, but they had no children. He was succeeded by his brother Raoul.


text:
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An Urdu translator has been jailed after helping prospective HGV and bus drivers cheat their way through theory tests.

Muhammed Saeed helped candidates pass by putting the Urdu word for 'you' next to correct answers.

Officials at the Driving Standards Agency became suspicious after demand for the 40-year-old's service rocketed and he represented trucker hopefuls from as far as Kent, Luton and Bradford.

Three of his clients had failed more than 15 theory tests − with one having flunked 25 times − before turning to Saeed for help.

An independent interpreter examined recordings of Saeed’s translations and found he used an Urdu word meaning ‘you’ to highlight the answers, the Birmingham Mail reports.

[]

Jailed: Saeed was sentenced to two years in jail at Birmingham Crown Court
Saeed was arrested at the Birmingham test centre in Dale End on July 10 last year and admitted fraud.

At Birmingham Crown Court Saeed was jailed for two years after pleading guilty to six counts of fraud.

The driving licences of Saeed’s 239 clients − dating back to the first voiceover he provided in June 2008 − have been revoked on road safety grounds and all will have to re-apply for licences and re-take theory tests.

It is understood Saeed, of Alum Rock, Birmingham, charged £120 for his cheat-service.

Investigating officer DC Mark Calvert said: “It seems Saeed was establishing a reputation as a theory test ‘fixer’ in the Muslim community for anyone struggling to pass.

“At the start of each test translators have to read out a vow which states ‘I confirm I will not do anything to affect the integrity of the test and understand that by assisting a candidate I may be committing a criminal offence’.

“He obviously thought it was easy money and that, as the cheat’s code was in Urdu, assumed the DSA and police would be oblivious to his scheme. He was wrong and is now paying the price for his con.”

Foreign language support on driving theory and practical tests was axed in April this year partly because the DSA had uncovered numerous cases of cheating on translator tests.

Last year a Mandarin interpreter from Perry Barr was jailed after admitting a theory test cheat scam that was believed to have netted £100,000. It was the first time a translator has been jailed for DSA fraud.

question: Who is Saeed?

answer: Saeed is an Urdu translator who was jailed after helping prospective HGV and bus drivers cheat their way through theory tests.

question: What happened to Saeed?

answer: Saeed was sentenced to two years in jail at Birmingham Crown Court for fraud.

question: What is meant by Saeed being "a theory test ‘fixer’ in the Muslim community for anyone struggling to pass"?

answer: It means Saeed was helping those taking the tests cheat using cheat codes in Urdu.

question: Why was foreign language support on driving theory and practical tests axed in April at the time this document was written?

answer: The DSA had uncovered many cases of cheating on translator tests.

question: Where did this crime take place?

answer: The crime took place in Burmingham, UK.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: An Urdu translator was sentenced to two years in jail in Birmingham, UK for helping people in the Muslim community cheat on driving theory and practical tests .


text:
By thirty, your life's pretty much over. Even though you technically still have more than half left, once you have a family, a job, and a home, every day is exactly like the last. There are no unanswered questions, nothing to look forward to. By thirty, you've realized that life is dull, drab, and meaningless; you're just riding it out.

Your alarm clock blares, so you groggily slap at it until it shuts up. You crack open your eyes. The fire-red 6:00 taunts you from the nightstand. You drag yourself out of bed. When your wife stirs, you pretend to apologize for waking her. She smiles and doesn't believe you. You shave, shower, and dress in your favorite shirt and tie which, since you have no personality, is black on white. You stagger into the kitchen and start brewing coffee, soon followed by your dazed wife with her frazzled hair and ratty bathrobe. She plops her sagging ass into a chair (you pray it doesn't break) and stares zombily into space, picturing the kitchen she should have had. You pour two cups, the steam drifting lazily from the dull black pools, and drop into the seat opposite her. You push her mug over and even attempt some inane, frivolous conversation. But she's busy sipping her coffee and wondering what she ever saw in you so she responds in grunts. Silence shortly reclaims the room. Then your little girl trudges in, so suddenly the two of you are cheerful and in love. While Mommy's busy complementing Daddy's tie ("My, how interesting!"), the little girl pours her own cereal and orange juice. She joins Mommy and Daddy at the table, but doesn't utter a word; she knows they're faking. Kids are smart like that. When she silently finishes and leaves to prep for school, you rise, spit a goodbye at your wife (the kid's not here, so no need to kiss), march out the door, and fire up your '98 Ford Escort. The rattling shakes open the glove compartment, so annoyance tugging at the fringes of your brain, you slam it shut. Even though you will never get it repaired, you remind yourself to do it anyway. Then you accelerate and brake and turn until you're lost in those short, yellow lines that happen to be zipping by.

That's where you are right now: mesmerized by an endless parade of golden dashes, wondering how life managed to slip you by. It's actually quite simple: you screwed up the first part.

Life flows like the daily commute. There are two distinct legs: navigating to and cruising along the highway. The initial is substantially more involved; you're constantly accelerating, braking, and turning, meticulously reading every street sign to pick your way through the complex matrix of roads. Since you're paying attention, encountering new situations, and still fresh to the drive, this shorter leg seems the longer; there is more to remember so you remember more.

Then you merge into the swift river of cars of the highway. Breathing a sigh of relief, you settle into your seat and lose yourself in whatever tune is on the radio. Hopefully, nothing happens; every minute is just cruising steadily along the smooth pavement while kind of keeping track of the cars around you. But without unique events, the minutes blend into each other. Time becomes slippery and insubstantial. Before you know it, you've arrived at your destination, wishing you lived further away.

Life works like that. When you're young, dumb, and inexperienced, you're left to forge your way through an intricate spider web of paths, hopefully with a map or other guide, but usually not. You decide who you are, what you believe, your profession, whether you even graduate high school, and whether Debra is actually your soul mate or if you should push for that abortion. Some people guess right and comfortably cruise along for the rest of their lives. But when they don't have guidance, it's easy to see how so many young are lost.

As a result of the constantly changing landscape and plethora of new experiences of young life, this shorter leg (thirty years at most) seems the longer. Then you merge onto the highway; you have a spouse named Debra who hates your guts, a job you planned to work for two years but this is already your eighth, and a kid who's too smart to talk to you. You watch as the days blend into one miserable stream and, before you know it, you're dead. But that's what happens when you fuck up that initial leg; you end up driving to nowhere until you run out of gas or crash.

So, in a moment, you will pull into a parking lot. Your ankle sore for no reason whatsoever, you will limp into the concrete building, blowing right by the motivational poster depicting the long and tumultuous history of the company. Cassie, the bubbly receptionist, will perkily greet you. You will neadrathalically grunt back. After an eternity of making calls in your droll office, the last will be to Debra, notifying her that you're leaving work (bitch better have your dinner ready). As you walk out the door, Cassie will energetically wave goodbye. You will ignore her.

You will crawl through traffic home in your sputtering car with the incessantly swinging glove box to stagger inside, exhausted from yelling at idiot drivers. Fortunately, the steam will still be rising from your formerly frozen lasagna. Since words only spark argument and truth, you will eat in silence. After, you will try to act sophisticated by reading the newspaper, but your wife's cooking show will be too damn loud. You will quietly hiss at her to please turn it down. She won't. You will remain mum for a few minutes, penting up your boiling rage. When it finally bursts free, you will throw the paper to the floor, yourself to your feet, and your words at your bitch wife. You don't have the patience anymore for her pointless cooking shit.

Debra will be unfazed. She will flat out ask you when you ever had the patience for her pointless cooking shit or her at all, calmly rehashing your utter failure as a husband and a father. Even though she ain't so perfect herself, you will storm off to bed in a huff, anger clamping your mouth shut. It's hard to argue with someone who's right.

And the whole time, the little girl will be curled up to the crack of her door, listening intently to every word, lonely tears snaking down her face. Just like every other day.

title: Just Like Every Other Day

question: What happened between the narrator and his wife to cause this indifference?

answer: They are ill suited to each other. They made the decision to spend the rest of their lives together after an unplanned pregnancy.

question: How old is his daughter?

answer: She should be between 10 and 14 years old.

question: Whose daily routine does this story follow?

answer: A father and husband who is tired of the monotony of life.

question: Who are the major characters of the story?

answer: The narrator, his wife Debra, their daughter and the receptionist Cassie.

question: What work does the narrator do?

answer: He makes calls in his droll office.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator wakes up to another day in his life. He is convinced every day of his life will be the same until he dies. He dislikes his wife, his house and his car, but tries to keep up appearances for their young daughter. He goes to the office to make calls and then head home. The narrator and his wife have a loud battle that their daughter overhears from the crack of her door. She cries just like every other day.


text:
 [59 Million Children In Africa Stunted, Says WHO]

[ndic advert]

The World Health Organisation (WHO) says no fewer than 59 million children in Africa are stunted while another 10 million are overweight.
The UN health agency also warned that Africa’s attempts to achieve health for all by 2030 could be threatened unless the continent address the twin challenges of under-nutrition and obesity.
Under-nutrition occurs when people do not get enough to eat, resulting in conditions such as wasting, which is when a child becomes dangerously thin.
On the other hand, people who are obese have body fat levels that may impair their health.
The WHO Regional Office for Africa called these two issues “the double burden of malnutrition”.
Together with diet-related non-communicable diseases (NCDs) such as diabetes, they are leading to “catastrophic costs” for citizens, communities and national healthcare systems across the continent.
The health experts at a WHO meeting in Nairobi, therefore, pressed for action to address the ‘double burden’ of malnutrition in Africa.
“A 2016 study showed an estimated 59 million children in Africa were stunted, which is when a child is too short for their height: another condition caused by under-nutrition.
“Additionally, 14 million children suffered from wasting, which the WHO Office said is a strong predictor of mortality among children under five.
“Meanwhile, 10 million Africans were overweight, which is nearly double the number from 2000,” WHO said.
The UN agency noted the rising cases of malnutrition problem, compared to a 2014 report, which estimated that five per cent of men and 15 per cent of women over 18-years-old were obese.
Dr Felicitas Zawaira, Director of the Family and Reproductive Health Cluster at the WHO Regional Office, stressed the need for healthy diets among African children.
“Improving nutrition sustainably requires consideration of how to produce, deliver, and ensure access to healthy diets and essential nutrients, not just greater quantities of food,” Zawaira said.
In 2015, Heads of State adopted the 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) which seek to bring about a more just and equitable world for all people and the planet by 2030.
SDG 3, which focuses on good health and well-being, calls for achieving universal health coverage by this deadline, among other targets.
“Tackling all forms of malnutrition for the achievement of universal health coverage and the health-related SDGs requires remedial actions from multiple sectors and on many fronts,” Zawaira stated.
Such measures include implementing policies and action to control the marketing and consumption of unhealthy foods, or to promote consumption of healthy foods through taxation and subsidies.

NAN

[Aljazirahnews]

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question: What does the WHO aims to accomplish by 2030?

question: Summarize the malnutrition problem in Africa.

question: What broad approaches are suggested to combat malnutrition?

question: Which Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) does malnutrition thwart?

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that there are 59 million children in Africa who are stunted while another 10 million are overweight. The WHO Regional Office for Africa wants action to solve the malnutrition problem. Universal healthcare is the third item in Sustainable Development Goals and the WHO wants all measures to be taken to ensure its success.


text:
The AMERICAS ZONE was one of the three zones of the regional Davis Cup competition in 2017.

In the Americas Zone there were three different tiers, called groups, in which teams competed against each other to advance to the upper tier. Winners in Group I advanced to the World Group Play-offs, along with losing teams from the World Group first round. Teams who lost their respective ties competed in the relegation play-offs, with winning teams remaining in Group I, whereas teams who lost their play-offs were relegated to the Americas Zone Group II in 2018.

Participating nations

SEEDS: _All seeds_ received a bye into the second round.

1.  2.

Remaining nations:

-   -

-   -

Draw

First round

Ecuador vs. Peru

|R2={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Roberto Quiroz |5|6|6|6||T2P1=Mauricio Echazú |7|4|1|3| }} |R3={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Emilio Gómez|T1P2=Roberto Quiroz|6|3|7|7||T2P1=Mauricio Echazú|T2P2=Jorge Panta|2|6|5|6.045| }} |R4={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Roberto Quiroz|6|7||||T2P1=Juan Pablo Varillas|4|6.055||| }} |R5={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Gonzalo Escobar|6|6||||T2P1=Alexander Merino|3|0||| }} }}

Dominican Republic vs. Chile

|R2={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Roberto Cid Subervi |7|1|2|2||T2P1=Christian Garín |5|6|6|6| }} |R3={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Roberto Cid Subervi |T1P2=José Hernández|2|4|3|||T2P1=Nicolás Jarry|T2P2=Hans Podlipnik-Castillo|6|6|6|| }} |R4={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=José Olivares|6.075|6.015||||T2P1=Marcelo Tomás Barrios Vera|7|7||| }} |R5={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Nick Hardt|3|3||||T2P1=Nicolás Jarry|6|6||| }} }}

Second round

Ecuador vs. Brazil

|R2={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Roberto Quiroz|7|6.00|3|6.065||T2P1=Thiago Monteiro|6.055|7|6|7| }} |R3={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Gonzalo Escobar|T1P2=Roberto Quiroz|3|4|3|||T2P1=Marcelo Melo|T2P2=Bruno Soares|6|6|6|| }} |R4={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Iván Endara|6.065|4||||T2P1=Thomaz Bellucci|7|6||| }} |R5={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Gonzalo Escobar|7|4|3|||T2P1=Thiago Monteiro|6.045|6|6|| }} }}

Colombia vs. Chile

|R2={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Eduardo Struvay|3|3|2|||T2P1=Christian Garín|6|6|6|| }} |R3={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Juan Sebastián Cabal|T1P2=Robert Farah|7|3|6|6||T2P1=Nicolás Jarry|T2P2=Hans Podlipnik-Castillo|6.025|6|3|1| }} |R4={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Santiago Giraldo|6.095|6|6|6.065|6|T2P1=Christian Garín|7|3|3|7|3 }} |R5={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Eduardo Struvay||||||T2P1=Nicolás Jarry||||| np= }} }}

2nd round play-offs

Dominican Republic vs. Peru

|R2={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=José Hernández-Fernández|7|4|6|6||T2P1=Mauricio Echazú|6.025|6|3|3| }} |R3={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=Roberto Cid Subervi|T1P2=Víctor Estrella Burgos|3|6|6|1|6|T2P1=Nicolás Álvarez|T2P2=Sergio Galdós|6|4|3|6|3 }} |R4={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=José Olivares|4|1||||T2P1=Mauricio Echazú|6|2||| re1=2}} |R5={{ TennisMatch |T1P1=José Hernández-Fernández|6|7||||T2P1=Nicolás Álvarez|2|6.025||| }} }}

title: 2017 Davis Cup Americas Zone Group I

question: What sport is played at the Davis Cup competition?

answer: Unsure, possibly tennis.

question: How do the tiers work in the Americas zone?

answer: There are three different tiers in which teams competed against each other to advance to the upper tier.

question: Who won the Americas zone?

answer: Unsure.

question: What countries were represented in the Americas Zone?

answer: Ecuador, Peru, Dominican Republic, Chile, Brazil, and Colombia were represented in the 2017 Davis Cup.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about the 2017 Davis Cup.


text:
The following short story is from a fight my friends and I had, where one of my friends took over the fight and kicked some serious ass. Some things were added for entertainment purposes but the story is pretty much all there.

**Fight at the taco truck, as I remember it.**

It was the beginning of winter. Testosterone ran high, beards were long. Common folk refer to this phenomenon as 'no shave November' I call it a regular Wednesday. It was a large group of us this particular night. Mauri, Mikey, Eric, 'Other' Mikey, voluptuous Rosie, and of course yours truly. We started the night on the slums of Sunset. A dirty one block radius crawling with the worst type of people besides hipsters, more hipsters. If it wasn't for the Wednesday's specials and surplus of sluts, this place would be nothing less than an arcade fire concert screening Wes Anderson films. We loaded up on the cheap booze, and stuck around for the slutty ambiance.

As our uneventful night came to an end we decided to meet at Gus' infamous taco truck. We rode in two separate cars, or as the urban kids say 'we was rolling deep' Mauri, Eric and Mikey took the quick route and stopped at our local liquor for a twelve pack of our favorite brand. I ended up driving 'other Mike's' car because to be honest the kid couldn't handle his liquor. This also gave me a chance to gauge the possibility of sex with Rosie. Sex seemed pretty probable, but then again it always does. I would catch her staring at me while I drove. I couldn't tell if she was admiring my ability to drink out of my flask while keeping an eye on the road or my disregard for danger, all I knew is that she was amazed and probably aroused. I decided to take the scenic route.

Call it a hunch, or perhaps supernatural abilities, but as soon as I pulled into the parking lot I could sense trouble. I quickly and skillfuly parked the small jalopy and leaped out. "Where are you going!" Rosie yelled. I didn't have time to answer, shit was going down and I was going to help it. I ran towards the kerfuffle around Mikey's car and made it there just in time to see a tall, skinny, awkward looking man taking a swing at my good friend Mauri. I didn't need an explanation or reason to start handing out cans, that was plenty. I dove into the group of people fist first until I reached that tall awkward face. His acne infested skin felt soft against my rugged knuckles. It was a little too late to realize 'Awkward Skinny' had friends. Things went dark for a bit after this.

As I came to my senses, I glimpsed around to assess the situation. Things weren't looking good, but they weren't looking bad either. Eric landed some quick jabs that sounded like double bass pedals from a metal band, he had chosen his guy and he was going to take him out. Phony Mike was being gay in the car comforting Rosie. Mauri stood quietly studying the scene and Mikey was walking over to assist me when some random Joe appeared out of nowhere with a handful of fists for both of us. Now this 'Random Joe' did not know Mauri. He did not know that Mauri had been pretty peaceful this whole time, watching these events unfold. He did not know the rage that hid behind him. He did not know that Mauri is a cool guy, a regular mother fucking Teresa but if you fuck with his friends... well then he will fuck you up.

Mauri's shirt came off and his drunken stance became firm. With his fist up in the air he went around taking names and handing out prizes. 'Random Joe' and 'Awkward Skinny' turned their attention to the one taking out their friends and surrounded him. Rosie and 'Imposter Mike' came out to try to instill some peaceful sense into us. I watched helplessly as Mauri was surrounded by seven guys and a midget. (You know gangs mean bussiness when the 'gang midget' is called out for a fight.) To my surprise, Mauri's confidence looked to be intact, he looked over at me and gave me his 'ok' wink. I nodded back. I understood.

'Random Joe' jumped on top of 'Gang Midget' and began swinging his arms. Gang midget struggled to keep his balance but managed to charge towards Mauri. As Mauri mouthed out "What the fuck?!' he took a quick dive to dodge this 'one and a half man turbine'. The midget couldn't control his direction and ran right into a wall. 'Awkward skinny' bursted out in a maniacal laugh and pointed at Mauri, his five remaning henchmen rushed Mauri on the floor. They covered him entirely with punches and grunts, if I didn't know any better, it looked like a japanese gangbang without pixels. I looked at Eric and Mikey and we all nodded in agreement, we had to get in. But just as we decided to join the fun, Mauri burst from within sending all five of them to the floor. Shirtless Mauri stood up and pointed at 'Awkward skinny'

"You!" He began,

"You wanted a fucking beer, we gave you a fucking beer!"

The fab five quickly recovered and tried their luck again. Awkward skinny kept laughing. Something was clearly wrong with him.

The five fucks took their swings and kicks, but these were no match for Mauri's quick turns and ducks. He was salsa dancing around the punches, it was a beautiful sight. Eventually, they stopped their futile attempts to touch Mauri.

"Is that all you got?!" Mauri teased.

The winded five farts had nothing. It was Mauri's turn. To say he knocked them out fast is an understatement. He walked through them making them taste his friendship fury. He made his way towards that tall awkward skinny fuckhead that had started it all.

It was pretty clear this was Mauri's fight, but before he started unloading, Awkward skinny crumbled down to his knees and begged for mercy. Not even Ghandi would have listened to that prick, but Mauri swallowed what was left of his pride and turned away. The crowd that had gathered cheered and chanted his name. He walked taller than before and began making his way back to the car. Just then, 'Awkward skinny' pulled out a full bottle of newcastle and pitched it towards an unaware Mauri. We all looked in shock,and questioned "How the fuck does someone hide a full bottle through an entire fight?!" but we quickly realized he hadn't participated for most of it. We tried to yell out to mauri but our expressions warned him faster and he majestically turned around to quickly catch the bottle. He promptly opened it up and chugged it like a legend in the making. Alex, who had not been part of this whole night, just happened to be getting himself some tacos, he witnessed this last unjustice and ran towards awkward skinny to launch his frail ass towards a car. "No one throws out a full Newcastle" Alex sighed.

Mauri and Alex joined us back by the car to finish our brew. I could tell Rosie had lost all interest in me and was going to spend the night with Mauri but I wasn't even mad, because after that fight, he deserved a good fucking.

question: Where did the story take place?

answer: Most of this story took place at a taco truck.

question: What were the main character's intuition telling them?

answer: The main character's intuition was telling them that trouble would be coming and they shouldn't be where they were.

question: Why does the main character choose funny nicknames for their friends and those that they are fighting with?

answer: The narrator chooses funny nicknames for their friends and those that they are fighting with to make it easier to depict who is who and add an element of comedy in the passage.


text:
[Space Needle, Seattle]

JOHN GRAHAM & COMPANY, or JOHN GRAHAM & ASSOCIATES was the name of an architectural firm, founded in 1900 in Seattle, Washington, by English-born architect JOHN GRAHAM (1873–1955), and maintained by his son JOHN GRAHAM JR. (1908–1991).

The firm was responsible for many Seattle landmarks and a number of significant structures nationwide, including the Space Needle, the Chase Tower of Rochester, New York, and the Westin Seattle.

The firm was merged into the DLR Group on May 19, 1986, and the name saw full deletion in 1998.[1]

John Graham

John Graham was born in Liverpool, England in 1873. He apprenticed as an architect in England as a young man. First visiting Seattle, Washington, in 1896, he immigrated to the United States in 1900, starting a one-man architectural practice in Seattle. He started off modestly, designing mainly industrial-related buildings and private residences. His first notable project was designing the reconstruction of the Trinity Parish Church at Eight Avenue and James Street in 1902 after it had been damaged by fire.

After a brief partnership with Alfred Bodley in 1904, Graham founded the firm of GRAHAM & MYERS with David J. Myers in 1906. He would work with Myers until 1910. As architect for the Ford Motor Company, he designed more than 30 of Ford's assembly plants between 1912 and 1940. Throughout the 1920s and 30s, he would design hundreds of commercial and public buildings in the Seattle area including the Frederick & Nelson store (now Nordstrom) in 1916. He also helped found the Seattle Yacht Club.

He retired from architecture in 1945 and died on March 20, 1955, while on tour in Hong Kong.[2]

John Graham Jr.

[44 Montgomery (left), adjacent to the Hobart Building, San Francisco]

John Graham Jr. (1908-91) was born and raised in Seattle, Washington.[3] After graduating from Yale University, he established a short-lived satellite office of his father's firm in New York City in 1937, and took over the main office in 1946. Renaming the firm to John Graham & Company, the firm expanded a relatively modest regional practice to an office with national presence. It was ultimately responsible for over a thousand commissions.[4]

Their primary focus was commercial projects. Many were straightforward mid-century modernist office towers, such as San Francisco's 1967 44 Montgomery tower. But Graham was also responsible for early development of the enclosed shopping mall genre, notably Seattle's Northgate Shopping Center,[5] which opened April 21, 1950,[6] which anticipates the better-known Northland Center in Detroit by four years. The firm would go on to design seventy malls nationwide.

The authorship of Graham's single most prominent work, the Space Needle, is disputed. Both Graham's office and the Seattle architect Victor Steinbrueck, a consultant on the project, claimed design credit; the design was also influenced by the Century 21 Exposition design standards and aerospace theme established by supervising architect Paul Thiry. Clearly the revolving restaurant, the “Eye of the Needle”, was Graham's conception. He'd already devised “La Ronde” for the Ala Moana Shopping Center in Honolulu in 1961, and was awarded a patent for the idea in 1964.

Graham died in Seattle on January 29, 1991.

Prewar Work

The following structures are in Seattle unless otherwise noted:

-   reconstruction of the Trinity Episcopal Parish Church, circa 1903
-   Butterworth Building, 1903
-   Pierre P. Ferry House, 1903–1906
-   Joshua Green Building, 10 floors, 1910
-   Bellingham National Bank Building, Bellingham, Washington, 1912–1913, with F. Stanley Piper
-   Securities Building, 10 floors, 1918
-   Frederick & Nelson, now the Nordstrom flagship store, 10 floors, 1918
-   Dexter Horton Building, 14 floors, 1924
-   Bank of California Building (Seattle), 3 floors, 1924
-   Villa Academy, formerly Sacred Heart Orphanage, 1924
-   Washington Building, 17 floors, 1925
-   Montague & McHugh Building, Bellingham, Washington, 5 floors, 1927
-   Hotel Georgia, 12 floors, 1927
-   The Bon Marché flagship store, now Macy's, 7 floors, 1928
-   UW Physics Building (now Mary Gates Hall), 1928
-   The Roosevelt, 20 floors, 1929
-   Joseph Vance Building, 14 floors, 1929
-   Hartford Building, 1929
-   U.S. Marine Hospital, now the Pacific Medical Center, with Bebb and Gould, 1930
-   Exchange Building, 22 floors, 1930
-   Tacoma Municipal Building (Medical Arts Building), 17 floors, 1931
-   St. Edward Seminary, Kenmore, Washington, 80,000 square feet, 1931

Postwar Work

[The Ilikai, Honolulu]

-   The Decatur, Seattle, residential building, 13 floors, 1950 [7]
-   Northgate Mall, 1950
-   Gulfgate Mall, Houston, 1956
-   Northshore Mall, Peabody, Massachusetts, 1957
-   AIA Building, 12 floors, 1958
-   Ala Moana Office Building, Honolulu, 23 floors, including the first revolving restaurant in the United States, 1960
-   College Grove Shopping Center, San Diego, regional outdoor shopping center with 3-story department store
-   Space Needle, an element of the 1962 Century 21 Exposition, with Victor Steinbrueck, 1962
-   Moorestown Mall, Moorestown, New Jersey, 1963
-   The Ilikai Hotel, Waikiki, Honolulu, 1964
-   44 Montgomery, Financial District, San Francisco, 43 floors, 1967
-   Holiday Park Plaza, 16 floors, 1967
-   Montgomery Mall, Bethesda, Maryland, 1968
-   Westin Seattle, south tower 1969 (built as the Washington Plaza Hotel), north tower 1982
-   Ala Moana Hotel, the tallest building in Hawaii from 1970 through 1990, 38 floors, 1970
-   Chase Tower, Rochester, New York, 27 floors, 1973
-   901 Fifth Avenue, originally Bank of California Building, 42 floors, 1973
-   Henry M. Jackson Federal Building, (joint venture with Bassetti/Norton/Metler/Rekevics), 37 floors, 1974
-   One Capital Center, 14 floors, 1975
-   State Office Building, 11 floors, 1975
-   ABC Building, 33 floors, 1976
-   Qwest Plaza, 33 floors, 1976
-   Southern Union Tower, 20 floors, 1980
-   US Federal Building & Courthouse, 1981
-   Lloyd Center Tower, Portland, Oregon, 20 floors, 1981
-   Clackamas Town Center, suburban Portland, Oregon, 1981
-   Sheraton Seattle Hotel, 34 floors, 1982

[8]

[1] John Graham & Associates emporis.com

[2] “John Graham, Sr., Noted Architect, Dies in Orient” _Seattle Times_ 23 Mar. 1955. Pg. 44.

[3] http://www.docomomo-wewa.org/architects_detail.php?id=60

[4]

[5] DLR Group djc.com Seattle Daily Journal of Commerce

[6] http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&File_Id=3186

[7] Decatur First Hill Condominiums thedecatur.com

[8] John Graham & Company emporis.com

title: John Graham & Company

question: What is John Graham & Company also known as?

answer: John Graham & Associates

question: When did the architect John Graham Senior die?

answer: 1955

question: Who designed the Space Needle?

answer: authorship is disputed; both John Graham & Company and Victor Steinbrueck claim design credit

question: When did architect John Graham Junior die?

answer: January 29, 1991

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: John Graham & Associates was an architectural firm founded in Seattle in 1900. The firm designed many prominent 20th century buildings.


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

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

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

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

title: just wrote this its not very long.

question: When is the protagonist happiest?

answer: When he is sitting in his chair, his mind begins to wander, the world around him disappears for a moment, and all of his thoughts take a break.

question: How does the protagonist feel when they get back to the real world?

answer: They miss the break moment more than anything.

question: Are the protagonist's thoughts about their dog and house pleasant?

answer: They are not immediately pleasant or unpleasant, but it is implied they might be unpleasant later.

question: Why is the protagonist unsatisfied?

answer: It's not stated.


text:
“TAKE A LONG LINE” is the fourth single by Australian hard rock group the Angels, released in July 1978.[1][2][3][4] “Take a Long Line” first charted on 17 July 1978, where it peaked at number 29 on the Kent Music Report Singles Chart and remained in the charts for 26 weeks. [5]The song was released from their second album, _Face to Face_.[6]

In January 2018, as part of Triple M's “Ozzest 100”, the 'most Australian' songs of all time, “Take a Long Line” was ranked number 35.[7]

Track listing

1.  “Take a Long Line” (Doc Neeson, John Brewster, Rick Brewster) - 3:00
2.  “Love Takes Care” (Doc Neeson, John Brewster, Rick Brewster) - 3:34

Personnel

-   Doc Neeson – lead vocals
-   Richard Brewster – lead guitar
-   John Brewster – rhythm guitar
-   Chris Bailey – bass guitar
-   Graham “Buzz” Bidstrup – Drums
-   The Angels, Mark Opitz - Producer

[1]

[2]  Note: Used for Australian Singles and Albums charting from 1974 until Australian Recording Industry Association (ARIA) created their own charts in mid-1988. In 1992, Kent back calculated chart positions for 1970–1974.

[3] Discogs

[4] Guitaretab

[5] Australian Music Database

[6] Ultimate Guitar

[7]

title: Take a Long Line

question: What was 'Take a Long Line' ranked on the Kent Music Report Singles Chart?

answer: Take a Long Line was ranked number 29 on the Kent Music Report Singles Chart.

question: How many songs does the single contain?

answer: It contains two songs.

question: What is 'Face to Face'?

answer: Face to Face is the second album by the Angels.

question: Where are The Angles from?

answer: They are from Australia.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Take a Long Line is the fourth single by Australian hard rock group the Angels, released in 1978 from their second album Face to Face. It was ranked number 29 on the Kent Music Report Singles Chart. Lead vocal of The Angels is Doc Neeson.


text:
The SUN WORKSTATION was a modular computer system designed at Stanford University in the early 1980s. It became the seed technology for many commercial products, including the original workstations from Sun Microsystems.

History

In 1979 Xerox donated some Alto computers, developed at their Palo Alto Research Center, to Stanford's Computer Science Department, as well as other universities that were developing the early Internet. The Altos were connected using Ethernet to form several local area networks. The SUN's design was inspired by that of the Alto, but used lower-cost modular components.[1] The project name was derived from the initials of the campus' Stanford University Network.[2]

Professor Forest Baskett suggested the best-known configuration: a relatively low-cost personal workstation for computer-aided logic design work. The design created a 3M computer: a 1 million instructions per second (MIPS) processor, 1 Megabyte of memory and a 1 Megapixel raster scan bit-map graphics display. Sometimes the $10,000 estimated price was called the fourth “M” — a “Megapenny”.[3] Director of Computer Facilities Ralph Gorin suggested other configurations and initially funded the project. Graduate student Andy Bechtolsheim designed the hardware, with several other students and staff members assisting with software and other aspects of the project. Vaughan Pratt became unofficial faculty leader of the project in 1980.[4]

Three key technologies made the SUN workstation possible: very large-scale integration (VLSI) integrated circuits, Multibus and ECAD. ECAD (Electronic Computer Assisted Design, now known as Electronic design automation) allowed a single designer to quickly develop systems of greater complexity. The Stanford Artificial Intelligence Laboratory (SAIL) had pioneered personal display terminals, but the 1971 system was showing its age. Bechtolsheim used the Stanford University Drawing System (SUDS) to design the SUN boards on the SAIL system. SUDS had been originally developed for the Foonly computer.[5] The Structured Computer Aided Logic Design (SCALD) package was then used to verify the design, automate layout and produce wire-wrapped prototypes and then printed circuit boards.[6]

VLSI integrated circuits finally allowed for a high-level of hardware functionality to be included in a single chip. The graphics display controller was the first board designed, published in 1980.[7] A Motorola 68000 CPU, along with memory, a parallel port controller and a serial port controller, were included on the main CPU board designed by Bechtolsheim. The third board was an interface to the 2.94 Mbits/second experimental Ethernet (before the speed was standardized at 10 Mbits/second).[8] thumb |The three boards (plus memory extension) as later marketed by Sun Microsystems circa 1983

The Multibus computer interface made it possible to use standard enclosures, and to use circuit boards made by different vendors to create other configurations. For example, the CPU board combined with a multi-port serial controller created a terminal server (called a TIP, for Terminal Interface Processor) which connected many terminals to the Digital Equipment Corporation time-sharing systems at Stanford or anywhere on the Internet. Configuring multiple Ethernet controllers (including commercial ones, once they were available) with one CPU board created a router. William Yeager wrote the software, which was later adopted and evolved by Cisco Systems on its version of the hardware. Les Earnest licensed the CPU board for one of the first commercial low-cost laser printer controllers at a company called Imagen.[9] The processor board was combined with a prototype high performance graphics display by students of James H. Clark. That group later formed Silicon Graphics Incorporated.[10]

Eventually about ten SUN workstations were built during 1981 and 1982, after which Stanford declined to build any more. Bechtolsheim then licensed the hardware design to several vendors, but was frustrated that none of them had chosen to build a workstation.

Vinod Khosla, also from Stanford, convinced Bechtolsheim along with Scott McNealy to found Sun Microsystems in order to build the Sun-1 workstation, which included some improvements to the earlier design.[11]

Other faculty members who did research using SUN workstations included David Cheriton, Brian Reid, and John Hennessy.[12]

[1]  (Many words are spelled phonetically)

[2]  CSL Technical Report 229 (First author name is misspelled on cover)

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]  CSL Technical Report 201

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]  CSL Technical Report 1579

[12]

title: SUN workstation

question: Summarize an interest fact found in this text.

answer: The reason as to why the SUN workstation was made possible was interesting. The SUN workstation was made possible because of three key technologies: a very large-scale integration integrated circuits, Multibus, and ECAD. The more technology that was associated with the SUN workstation, the better of a chance it had to be as successful as possible.

question: How popular is the research conducted using the SUN workstation in present times?


text:
Zach Goldman wandered aimlessly through the streets. He hoped to walk forever, step after step after step after step, each one taking him further and further away from the cruel world he was born into. But he knew he never could. Curfew was in 15 minutes.
He kept walking forwards, eventually finding himself just a block away from the ghetto to which he was confined. He rubbed his shoulder, where the crude Star of David patch rubbing against his skin had left a raw patch.
"Get to your housing, Jew." The guard stationed on the corner had not even glanced at Mr. Goldman, for there was no need to. All that mattered regarding the entirety of Goldman's existence was the yellow star sewn into his shirt. He was cattle, just another faceless entity doomed by Germany's politics to die, forgotten forever.
He was ashamed to be a Jew, ashamed to exist. He felt utterly inferior to every insignificant thing surrounding him. Inferior to the homeless man who sits begging in the streets, inferior to a ripped plastic bag, condemned to an eternity in a landfill, but, most of all, he felt inferior to his own right to exist. If so many people had told him he was scum, that he was a waste, that him and all of his kind did not deserve to inhabit the world they were born into, why shouldn't it be true?
Zach Goldman, in that moment, simply wanted to die. He experienced a sudden frisson, stopping him in his tracks. And then, Zach Goldman went home. He went home, and he finally slept. He slept in an eternal sleep. His hidden gun has finally spent its last bullet.

title: Had to write a practice essay (less than 1 page) for my English end-of-course. This is what I wrote:

question: Explain the story's conclusion.

answer: Zach Goldman shoots himself in the head with his gun because he feels worthless due to everyone repeatedly saying it to him.

question: Who is the protagonist?

answer: It's Zach Goldman.

question: What time period does the story take place in?

answer: Due to the inhumane treatment of Zach Goldman because of his religion and heritage as a Jew, this must be during Hitler's reign. The time period should be around 1936-1946.

question: Where does the story take place?

answer: Zach Goldman mentions German politics, so it must be in Germany.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Zach Goldman is treated worse than a garbage bag on the street because of German politics. The only thing the officials care about him is the Star of David patched onto his clothing. He spends the last bullet in his gun, finding solitude in eternal sleep.


text:
If Looks Could Kill.

Nothing could describe the fear I felt when I looked into her eyes.
It was cold. Leaves scattered the ground, and the gravel under my back felt like sharpened icicles on my skin.
The physical cold was only compounded by her eyes.
My God, those eyes.
Those piercing, icy blue eyes that seemed to tear a path to my heart like a frozen bullet. Those eyes that
stopped the hypothermia and started melting me from the inside out, igniting a burning passion to thaw out
my long dead love life. The contrasting feelings caused a slight sense of excitement.
But I knew that this couldn't happen.
She reaches down to help me up, I thought she meant to harm.
Where am I? That's all I can think. Who is she? What did she do?
I slap her arm away. She looks offended.
What happened?
I try to sit up, and suddenly feel a sharp pain in my back.
I'm not going anywhere.
My legs don't work.
Upon this realization, my back follows suit, and I quickly feel the pangs of frozen rock on my back.
For the first time in my life, I panic. I truly panic.
She leans in close.
Panic.
Who is she? Did she do this to me?
Suddenly I become aware of sounds. Noises. Like an infant in a game of peek-a-boo, I cannot seem to
comprehend where these sounds were coming from.
But it's starting to clear up.
I look back into her eyes. Crystal blue ice turns to lightning as I feel her gaze connect with mine.
Are you okay? She asks, as if I can understand her.
I should understand.
I can't.
More panic.
The sounds are becoming more clear. Her voice. It was muffled, but I could understand it.
Are you okay?
It's clearing up.
It's being slowly drowned out.
What's that noise?
It's like.. a.. siren. That's what it is.
A siren.
Getting louder.
Are you okay?
No, I'm not. If only I could tell her that. My voice isn't working.
I turn my head sideways. A bicycle. My bicycle? I don't recognize it. But I don't recognize my shirt either.
The siren. It's stopped. The woman. She's getting up.
Don't go.
Please, I'm not scared anymore.
We can happen.
I just remembered, my arms work.
I reach out. Grab her hand.
Static. No, more than a static shock. Something. The connection. It's there. Why is it there?
My back. Oh man, my back. The pain. The fear.
Panic.
I look away. A car. An ambulance creeping up. The car is really close. I can almost touch it. But I'm touching her.
Her, with the frozen bullet eyes.
Two men. Running. To me.
Running to me. I'm not letting go of her hand.
They touch me. She touches me. She has the electric fingers.
They push her away. I wish I could protest, but my voice still betrays me.
She lets go.
I try to keep looking at her, but the men are in my way.
The lights on the ambulance are bright.
But they are getting dimmer.
The men are trying to move me.
It hurts.
They pick me up.
Please, stop. I can't tell you, but please. See my face. I'm hurting. Don't move me.
I swing at the one on my left. He stumbles back and drops me back on the gound.
They tell me to calm down. They are trying to help after all.
Their voices. Getting quieter as they talk.
Panic.
I look around as much as I can.
Every time I make a move, the world gets a bit darker.
Where is she?
I have to see her again.
The men pick me up. I have no more strength to contest.
She's behind them.
Her eyes. Her stormy, lightning blue eyes. Clouded by tears, she just stands there, watching.
I'm watching too.
But not for long.
I want to tell her.
Her eyes are comfort. They are all I needed.
The men move me to the ambulance. I think. I don't really care.
The sounds have faded some.
I can still see her from the back of the ambulance. Wait. They shut the doors.
She's gone.
Panic.
Someone is in here with me. They move so fast that I only see them as a blur.
It's getting darker.
Darker.
Panic.
The blur is asking me questions.
What is my name?
It asks me, but I can't seem to recall.
I can only remember her. Those eyes.
The next question I'm asked fades to silence.
Panic.
What color was her hair?
I didn't even notice.
I've been moving too much.
Things are almost out of sight.
The pain is gone.
I feel like I'm slipping.
Darker.
I'm just going to rest my eyes. I'm sure the blur won't mind. It's too dark to see in here anyway.
This just makes it easier to see her eyes.
I can hear some sounds.
The siren is back.
I think my eyes are still closed.
Either way, it's dark.
I feel like she touched my chest just now. The electricity was there. Both hands, bare flesh. The jolt startled me, and I knew she was there.
I open my eyes. The blur is still there, but she isn't.
Panic.
I try to sit up, but the blur holds me down. The effort must have broke my back.
The pain is back.
My eyes are adjusting to the darkness. I can see the blur. It's one of the men. The one I swung at.
The other one. Where is he?
I look around the best I can.
He's driving.
Someone is in the passenger seat.
A girl.
Her hair. Red. Burning.
It's her. I remember. She has red hair.
I reach out towards her. Point.
The man looks at her.
We stop moving. The ambulance stops screaming.
The men come to the back, and she is there with them.
I take her hand. The men move me out and wheel me on a bed toward a building.
She comes with me.
They are moving me really fast. Everything is blurring, except for her.
But her electric touch is losing its spark. Her icy blue eyes no longer reach as deep. Her burnt auburn hair is getting dimmer.
I'm moving too much.
It's dark again. I heard voices a minute ago, but now it's silent again.
Her touch. The electric fingers on my chest. I feel it. Three times.
But my eyes won't open.
I feel it a fourth time, stronger than ever.
All of my senses come rushing back to me. I can see her.
I wonder if my voice works.
I have to try.
I love you.
I said it.
I heard it.
My voice was weak, but I said it.
And now it's fading again.
I don't think she can bring me back.
The sounds are fading again, but not as fast as my vision.
The darkness returns, and I hear a soft voice.
It's her voice.
It's all I needed. I don't have to wonder.
The voice. It told me what I needed to hear.
I love you too.
She loves me.
It's the last thing I hear before the silence returns.
I don't think I can come back.
Her touch sparks agains my chest.
But it isn't enough.
At least I know how she feels.
The burning hair matched with the freezing blue eyes.
If looks could kill..
If looks could kill then she'd be the last thing I ever see.
I'd be fine with that.

title: Decided to try a little bit of writing, what do you think?

question: Had the poet met with an accident?

answer: Yes, the poet had met with an accident and broke his back.

question: Who is the woman he is describing?

answer: This information can't be found.

question: Has someone called an ambulance for the poet?

answer: Yes.

question: Where is the poet?

answer: It may be implied from the bicycles and infants playing that the poet might have been in a park.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
The poet lays fallen on his back. All he can think of is the beautiful set of blue eyes before him.

An ambulance comes to his rescue.  He tries to protest being taken away from her, but they do anyway.

They reach the hospital and he notices she's been around all long. He expresses his love for her and she does the same.


text:
[]

Former Bayonne Police Officer Domenico Lillo leaves federal court in Newark on Dec. 6, 2017 after testifying against Bayonne Police Officer Francis Styles. (Corey W. McDonald | The Jersey Journal) (EJA)

NEWARK -- Domenico Lillo is likely getting a lot more free time than he expected.

For the ninth time since pleading guilty to allegations of police brutality, sentencing for Lillo, the disgraced ex-cop who struck a Bayonne resident in the face with a flashlight, has been postponed.

His sentencing was scheduled for July 26 but has now been pushed back to Nov. 5 at 10 a.m. in Newark Federal Court. The U.S. Attorney's Office for the District of New Jersey declined to comment on why it was postponed again.

Lillo pleaded guilty in September 2015 to using excessive force during the Dec. 27, 2013 arrest of Brandon Walsh -- specifically pleading guilty to one count of deprivation of civil rights, and in an unrelated case, he confessed to falsifying government records in order to obtain a $20,000 loan intended for low- to moderate-income residents.

As part of his plea deal, he testified in federal court for more than two days late last year against his fellow officer, Francis Styles, who the government alleged knowingly covered up Lillo's use of excessive force.

Lillo told U.S. District Judge Kevin McNulty that he fully expected Styles and other cooperating officers to cover for his use of force on the night of the incident. However, the case ended in a mistrial after jurors told the McNulty they were deadlocked.

Officials indicated they would retry Styles, but announced later that they were dropping the charges.

Lillo's sentencing dates have now been postponed four times in 2016, twice in 2017, and three times this year, according to court records.

_Corey W. McDonald may be reached at cmcdonald@jjournal.com. Follow him on Twitter @coreymacc. Find The Jersey Journal on Facebook._

Note to readers: if you purchase something through one of our affiliate links we may earn a commission.

question: What did Police Officer Domenico Lillo do?

answer: He struck a Bayonne resident in the face with a flashlight.

question: What did Bayonne Police Officer Francis Styles do?

answer: He and other officers covered up for his crime.

question: What was the other case against Lillo that was not related to the police brutality case?

answer: He falsified government records to obtain a $20,000 loan.

question: Did Lillo plead guilty to police brutality?

answer: Yes.

question: Why is Lillo likely getting more free time?

answer: It's because his sentencing dates have always been postponed.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Police Officer Domenico Lillo, who pleaded guilty to striking a Bayonne resident in the face with a flashlight, testified against Bayonne Police Officer Francis Styles, who was alleged to have covered up Lillo's excessive use of force. Lillo's sentencing dates have been postponed many times for years.


text:
Passion Fruit

	It was the finest orange I had seen in months. It was right in front of me in a tall, blue trash bin. I looked around in all directions to make sure no one else had seen it, and was thrilled to find that my eyes and my eyes only gazed at the luscious fruit before me. The afternoon sun danced across the porous surface, highlighting its beautiful features. The prize was mine.
	I hoisted my bag over my shoulder, not caring about the various objects that spilled over, and shuffled my tired feet towards the trash bin. I put on my best angry face in case any passerby’s in the park decided they wanted it for themselves. Just a couple feet from the trash bin, a young boy got too close. I lashed out at him, showing my rotting teeth as angrily as I knew how. The boy screamed and nearly fell as he made his escape on his bike. The incident made me cackle, and I moved ever closer to the orange.
	Within reach, I stretched my hand outward, admiring my filthy fingernails as I did so. I curled my bony fingers around the orange and quickly plucked it from the bin. I held it to my chest tightly and looked around again. Mine! All mine! I made my way eagerly towards a nearby bench. A young couple on the bench saw me approaching and moved away in a hurry. It made me truly appreciate my power.
	My smile only got bigger as I sat and admired my prize. All mine! I tossed my bag aside, my attention never leaving the orange. I rubbed my hands all around it, enjoying the textures, its perfections and imperfections. I gave it a light squeeze, testing its durability. It was just how I liked it, not too soft or too firm. It was cool in my palm and my dry, putrid mouth began to water.
	Overwhelmed with anticipation, I pressed my thumb down hard onto the peel. With a soft pop, I broke through the surface and shook with joy as juice flowed from the opening. I quivered as my thumb made contact with the soft, wet innards of the orange. I considered leaving my thumb in a while longer, but decided against it. I knew my satisfaction could not be achieved by touch alone. My mouth ached with desire as I inspected the orange one last time. With my thumb still plunged deep inside, I tightened my grip and started to peel my prize. Mine! All mine!
	My hand was soaked with lovely juices as I removed the last bit of skin. Finally the orange was stripped clean and I stared at it intensely. At last I could indulge; I could leave this troubled world behind for a moment and occupy myself with this pure, beautiful creation.
	I lifted the orange to my cracked lips and took a hungry bite. Fresh juices sprayed from my mouth as I slowly chewed my first chunk. I savored every moment until the last bite. I held the sloppy piece before me, wishing, hoping, praying that somehow it would be whole again. I closed my eyes hoping to find a new orange in my hand when I opened them, but the same piece remained. I became overwhelmed with sadness and was surprised when a tear rolled down my cheek.
	I crushed the last bite of orange in my hand, sending pulp and juice all around me, and I threw the pathetic nibble to the ground. I let out a decrepit scream, startling those who walked by. The orange betrayed me! The bastard made me cry! My enormous desire for the fruit had now turned to boiling anger. Revenge! I only wanted revenge. I was thinking about exactly what I wanted revenge for when I saw her.
	She was walking along a concrete path in the park. Her hair flowed in the breeze like a blonde sea. She was wearing a red tank top, revealing an impressive bust. My eyes lingered there a moment. It was the finest bosom I had seen in months. Her white shirt, littered with red roses, moved gracefully as she walked, and I enjoyed the pitter-patter of her white flip-flops. She held a tan purse with her right arm, and carried a grocery bag with her left.
	I stood up, almost in awe at the site before me. I looked around in all directions to make sure no one else had seen her. The park was crowded and no one paid much attention to anyone else. I was thrilled. I picked up my tattered and dirty bag and started along the concrete path. The same path my new prize was already on. I was about forty feet behind her and struggled to keep up. My tired feet protested, but I moved on. Mine! All mine!
	We walked for some time, eventually leaving the park. I was thirty feet behind now, getting closer and closer. She continued confidently, never stopping or looking behind her. She looked to be in her twenties, but difficult to tell from this distance. It didn’t matter; she would be mine soon either way.
	Still gaining on her, I followed her into a residential area with houses all around. I was careful to make sure no one else saw my prize. I didn’t want anyone to try taking her from me, not at all. Finally she turned into a driveway and I was filled with excitement. I nearly had her in my grasp, I was so close.
	By the time I reached the driveway, I could hear her opening the front door. I hurried in to reach the door, but my bag proved to be a burden. By the time I was at the entrance, she was already inside. I cursed and felt my prize slipping away. I stared at the door knob for a couple of minutes. I saw my hideous reflection in the gleaming brass and smiled, pleased with myself. I reached for the door knob and was thrilled to discover that the door was unlocked. Mine! All mine!
	I slowly pushed the door open and peeked my head inside. The front room was bright and cheery, tidy and well organized. I could hear my prize somewhere inside; she was humming a familiar tune. I moved all the way inside and carefully shut the door behind me. The air inside was cool and pleasant, a welcome change from the hot summer temperature. I eased my way closer to where I heard her sweet voice. I made my way down a hallway, taking a moment to admire some family photos on the way. My prize was a beautiful one to be sure. I almost couldn’t believe that I would soon have my hands on her.
	I turned the corner leading into the kitchen and came face to face with my prize. I gave my biggest smile and she froze in place. She was quite a bit shorter than myself and had a wonderful shape. I raised my arm and reached out at her, ready to claim my prize. Just then she let out a wild scream, startling me. She was to be mine, my prize, yet she screamed and screamed. She looked at me with disgust and turned to run.
	“Mine! All mine!” I shouted. I swung my bag as hard as my gangly arms would allow and struck her in the back. The impact caused her to fall face first onto the tile floor. I heard a crack and a grunt and watched her try to get up. She was obviously shaken, and she was definitely hurt. She turned over on her back, her eyes were flooded with tears, her nose soaked in blood.
	“Help! Please… Please help! Please don’t hurt me!” Her screams and cries were music to my ears. She sobbed hysterically as I closed in on her. The prize was mine at last. I crouched down beside her and studied her wonderful features, highlighted by the dancing sunlight coming from outside. I reached hungrily for her luscious breasts, eager to test their durability. She let out another scream, and I smiled. “Mine… All Mine…”
	Just then, I felt a burning pain radiating from my chest, accompanied by a thunderous bang. I felt suddenly weak and my prize blurred before me. A single tear rolled down my left cheek. And then there was darkness.

	I awoke some time later in a hospital bed. I frantically looked about for my prize, but she was gone. I was immediately blinded by rage and confusion. Outside the hospital door I saw one police officer talking to another.
	“Hell of a shot, Rob. Probably saved that girls life,” he said. And then I saw it. Across the hall was a young boy in a hospital bed. At his side, on a small table, sat a single red apple. It was beautiful. It was the finest apple I had seen in months.

			…Mine…All Mine….

The End

title: Passion Fruit

question: Who is the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is a homeless person with mental disabilities, obsessing about whatever he sees as desirable.

question: Why does the protagonist chase and assault the blonde girl?

answer: He becomes enraged because the orange he finds in the trash can is finite. He cries upon finishing it and considers this a betrayal from the orange. In a desperate attempt to exact some sort of revenge, he fixates on the blonde girl.

question: What happens to the protagonist at the end?

answer: A police officer shoots him before he can go further than assaulting the blonde girl. He wakes up at a hospital. While angry at first, he fixates on an apple and forgets about the blonde girl.

question: What are the central themes of the story?

answer: They seem to be insanity and fixation.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: A homeless man finds an orange and savors it, eating it slowly. As the orange's last bite remains, he cries because it's finished. Considering this a betrayal by the orange, he decides to exact revenge in some way. He notices a blonde girl and fixates on her. After following her home, he assaults her but a police officer shoots him before he can go further. He wakes up in a hospital and fixates on an apple, forgetting the girl.


text:
In spite of the distance and the obstacles in between, the man could still hear muffled voices coming from outside. The sounds reach through the door, having already gone past the thick blue curtain that he will soon pass. The man rubs his hands together, and mutters to himself, that he will not cry, he will not cry, he will not cry. He paces inside the waiting room. So quiet, but considering the walls, there must be thousands of them watching. He sits down on the small chair provided, then immediately gets up and resumes pacing. He knows some of the ones outside want to see him fail. He can imagine their cutting words- so casually cruel, they will grab hold of anything at all, his hair, his weight, whatever it takes to reduce him. So he says to himself: a giant attracts many stones.

There is a round mirror on the wall, in front of the man's inhaler, his lucky dice and the baseball cap he's worn to every game since he was thirteen years old. He tries to avoid his reflection. Even back when he was thirteen he took it more seriously than the others. Over a decade of people telling him he wasn't good enough. Countless memories of mockery and naysayers. Oh god what are they saying outside? He wonders if she's there- I mean no chance, he rebukes himself for daring to hope. Too late, the flame catches, and it's igniting- that enthusiastic voice inside himself says: She's there. She'll be watching, even if she doesn't understand. Besides they may mock him, sure, they always have. But they aren't up here. And also, some of them will cheer.

A lot of them will cheer.

The man punches his hand, once, twice, three times. The same old sweat on his forehead. Music plays inside his mind- old tunes, like the sound of horns. Battle songs. His heart is racing, chest bursting, the fear is cackling now. He goes towards the door of the trailer, puts one clammy hand on the steel knob and turns. Sound rushes past him, fills the empty place he's leaving. This is it, this is the point. This is everything he's ever wanted. He approaches the velvet wall. The curtain is there, soft beneath his clammy hand- big and blue, and behind that the spectators. He waits. He's got to wait for his turn now. The fear grabs at his gut, and pummels him with questions- what if's. What if you forget the build. What if you're too slow. What if you slip and what if you choke. There are no two ways around it, he either clenches hard, somewhere inside, and lets the doubts have their moment, or he finds some kind of inspiration to override the niggling fears. He is a samurai preparing for battle.

The voice that led him all the way here says: In order to win you must be prepared to die.

Everyone told him it was just a game. He always knew it wasn't just a game. It was The Game. He's died so many times, and he's always felt it. The man is prepared. Now, thousands of people outside sit on the edge of their plastic chairs, hoping or cursing him. And all smiling with anticipation. His name is called, through the velvet curtain. Not the name his parents gave him but the one he defined, the one he chose, the one that people know, even if they've never seen his face, when his name comes up on the screen they know. They call his name. The curtain begins to part so slowly, and for a moment the entire thing overwhelms him. He never dared to dream, as he spent so many sleepless nights training, that one day he would be here, at the top. A history of insults, of self-doubt, of tears that no one thought were worthy of shedding and finally....

Big bright white stars on his face. He resists the urge to bring up an arm. They told him during the rehearsal that there would be a glare. The what if's stop. The fear settles, coils, hardens into that adrenaline moment, that sheer edge. That's his blade- concentration, skill, and courage. He walks towards his seat. An ocean of cheers vibrate around him, flowing like a cape. All that he's worked for, and still, it isn't enough. He's not the best yet. Not unless he wins. He takes his seat in front of the computer. Puts on his headphones and gives his mouse a few clicks. He couldn't explain to most people how the game works.  The voice says: Just like cricket. Or ice hockey. Or shogi. The man couldn't easily explain about last hitting, or micro, or good opening strategy. He couldn't tell a layperson exactly what he was about to do- only someone that played might understand.

And yet as the crowd began to coil, into silence, and wait, he realized that right now, for these few minutes, he shared a moment with champions. With anyone that's ever had to contend with the exhilaration and the final challenge. For a moment he was kin to boxers, gladiators, olympians and chess masters. With anyone that has had to measure a lifetime against one opponent. The man's opponent takes his seat, receives his share of cheers. His opponent is the only reflection worth comparing himself to. The man imagines she's watching, and even if she does not understand the game, she'll understand what this is like- the moments before.

He nods, and types: GL HF.

The rules are different. The game is different. The feelings have always been the same.

He smiles, feeling the phantom hands of winners on his shoulder.

In front of thousands, with his headphones on he mouths:

Let's dance.

title: Another short story by me, on my unending quest to become a decent writer: "The Finalist"

question: Why does the man believe that the people on the other side of the curtain want to see him fail?

answer: Because he has had over a decade of people telling him he wasn't good enough. He can remember countless naysayers

question: Who is "she"?

answer: Someone he admires or perhaps loves. It could be a girl to whom he is attracted or a family member like his mother, an aunt or sister.

question: How can he have died so many times?

answer: He's playing a game and in a game, you get to play again even after you have died.

question: Why does he wonder if he'll slip or choke?

answer: This must be some obstacle in the game.

question: Write a ~12 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator can hear the muffled voices through the blue curtain. He is determined not to cry. He paces knowing that people outside want him to fail. There must be thousands watching. He has the mirror, his inhaler and the baseball cap he has worn to every game since he was 13. He knows that she will be watching.

He’s scared of failure but the voice inside him says that to win you must be prepared to die. Eventually, his name is called, not the one his parents gave him but the one he chose for himself. He has spent so many sleepless nights training, so much self-doubt. He walks to the computer, puts his headphones on and gets ready to play.

He may be playing a game but he’s akin to boxers, gladiators and chess masters. Even if she doesn’t understand the game she’ll know that.


text:
[]

[]On 3rd May 2017, Behram Roj, Mah Adar, the Zai-Bordi Parsee Anjuman Agiary celebrated the centenary of the Agiary, by shifting the  holy Atash
Padshah to the original place in the renovated _kebla_ of the Agiary building, at 3:00 am. The special Dasturjis who arrived from Surat and Mumbai, were joined by the mobeds of the Agiary to complete the shifting procedure and this was witnessed by around forty-five Zarthostis. The Salgreh Jashan that began at 10:25 am was performed by eight priests, including Panthaki of the Agiary, Er. Homi Sena. The loud and clear _bhantar_ pronunciations during the Jashan filled the air with religious sentiments. Following a Humbandagi, the crowd of hundred and fifty devotees moved to the backyard to []enjoy the chasni and refreshments. The evening commenced with the Gambhar celebration at 7:30 pm, with the felicitation of four personalities attached to this Agiary, namely, Ex-Trustee, Phiroze Patel who served the Anjuman for over forty years; Panthaki Er. Homi Sena for his dedicated services to the Agiary as the main mobed for the last eighteen years; Er. Khoremand Marolia for assisting the Panthaki at the Agiary; and Sanaya Nariman, for her services to the Agiary and the Anjuman. The gathering of over two hundred and fifty people concluded the religious day with a sumptuous dinner catered by Rohinton Kumana of Bilimora.

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[]

question: Where did the worshippers move to after the Humbandagi?

answer: They moved to the backyard.


text:
Out in a dusty field stood one solitary man. Perfectly alone he pondered upon the complex series of events that had led him to that moment. “How quaint,” he smiled. “How quaint that after such chaos, I now stand alone in a dusty field.”

All day he pondered. Utterly comfortable, his remarks on the field began to turn sour. “This field…” he mused, “this dusty field, ‘tis but grass and dust. How grand a curse from the gods that I now stand alone in a dusty field.”

Day grew to night and still the man pondered. Now as he lay down in the soft, embracing grass, his face grew red. “For all that’s holy!” he yelled. “For all that’s holy I do so state in no uncertain terms my displeasure for the events that led to how I now stand alone in a dusty field!”

The sun rose to light a new day and the man’s smile returned. He tipped his hat to the field and made his way out the gate and down the road. He never looked back.

He was happy.

title: [MF] Dusty Field

question: Why is the man unhappy?

answer: He is angry about whatever brought him to the field

question: What brought the man to the field?

answer: That information can't be found

question: What does the man do in the morning?

answer: He leaves the field and never looks back

question: How does the man feel when he leaves?

answer: Happy

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: A man is standing alone in a dusty field and thinks about the events that brought him there. At night, he yells in anger about what brought him there. In the morning, he leaves, never looks back and feels happy.


text:
_NATO REVIEW_ is a magazine of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) that has been published for over 60 years.[1][2] It was originally published in print by the Atlantic Council of the United States as the _NATO Letter_ but is now produced electronically.[3][4] While in print it was a bi-monthly periodical.[5] The magazine is published by NATO in both English and French, with editions in other NATO Languages.[6]

At present the Editor is Vicki Nielsen.[7] Its website states that the magazine does not necessarily represent official opinion or policy of NATO or its member governments.[8][9]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8] About NATO Review. _NATO Review_. Retrieved 19 December 2016.

[9]

title: NATO Review

question: What type of subject matter is published in the NATO Review?

answer: That information can't be found.

question: Who publishes the NATO Review?

answer: The Atlantic Council of the United States

question: When was the first issue of the NATO Review published?

answer: That information can't be found.

question: Who is the Editor of the NATO Review?

answer: At the time of the article Vicki Nielsen

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The NATO Review is a magazine of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. The magazine has been running for 60 years, and is now published electronically. It is edited by Vicki Nielsen.


text:
DAISY LONDON is a British jewellery brand founded in 2009. It has an e-commerce platform and stockists in the UK and internationally. It is known for collaborations with celebrities Cara Delevingne[1] and Laura Whitmore.

History

In 2009, Daisy London was founded by Ruth Bewsey. It is a jewellery brand that was launched with the Daisy collection.[2] Its first advertising campaign featured Cara Delevingne. [3][4] In 2012, Daisy London became part of the IBB Group[5] of companies.

Daisy London has a network of stockists in the United Kingdom and Europe and global distributors in America, Asia and South Africa. The brand’s “wellness focus” has resulted in it being sold in health resorts and spas around the world such as the Four Seasons.[6]

Notable designs

Daisy London is the original designer of the “Chakra bracelet”[7] which has been worn by celebrities such as [8] such as Sienna Miller, Cara Delevingne,[9] and Kanye West, and become a recognised fashion trend.[10] The collection has since then expanded to include necklaces, rings, earrings and diamond[11] bracelets.

Other collections include Good Karma, Halo and Alpha.[12]

Charity Partnerships

In August 2014, Daisy London worked with Princess Beatrice[13][14] and Royal National Orthopedic Hospital (RNOH) on creating a charity bracelet[15][16] to raise awareness for the RNOH where the Princess is a patron.

Other charity actions include donations to the Tumaini Trust and Dress For Success, to benefit the women’s charity headed by Mary Portas.

Collaboration with Laura Whitmore

Daisy London collaborated with presenter Laura Whitmore[17] on a collection[18] in October 2015. The collection was inspired by music[19] and features the recurring shape of the plectrum throughout. On June 2016, new summer festival pieces[20] were added to the main Laura Whitmore X Daisy collection, which features turquoise prominently and new pieces such as arm bangles and midi rings.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]  Look|date=2014-09-10|newspaper=Look Magazine|language=en-US|access-date=2016-12-21}}

[10]  Look|date=2011-01-04|newspaper=Look Magazine|language=en-US|access-date=2016-12-21}}

[11]  Professional Jeweller|website=www.professionaljeweller.com|access-date=2016-12-21}}

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]  Look|date=2015-10-29|newspaper=Look Magazine|language=en-US|access-date=2017-01-13}}

[18]

[19]

[20]

title: Daisy London

question: What is one of Daisy London's notable designs?

answer: The Chakra bracelet.

question: List some collaborators of Daisy London.

answer: Cara Delevigne and Laura Whitmore. They also partnered with Princess Beatrice and Royal National Orthopedic Hospital.

question: When was Daisy London founded?

answer: 2009

question: Who is the CEO of Daisy London?

answer: Presumably the founder, Ruth Bewsey, although this is not confirmed in the article.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Daisy London is a British jewelry bran founded in 2008 by Ruth Bewsey. They have collaborated with Cara Delevigne, Laura Whitmore, and Princess Beatrice. Their more notable design is the Chakra bracelet, which has become a recognized fashion trend. The brand is forcused on wellness and is sold in health resorts and spas around the world.


text:
Wrote this in AP Lang.

"Don't worry. I'll protect you."

"Shut up! You're being too panicky."

"We'll your belligerence isn't helping anything!"

"Nor are whimsy promises. I know you're trying to improve things, and I admit, our situation is pretty lamentable. But all the agonizing pain they cause us is worth it as long as I'm alone... With you... In this padded room..."

title: No Jagged Edges - A 55 word story

question: Are the characters in the story in a psychiatric ward?

answer: It might be implied that they are because of the mention of a padded room, violent behaviour and unfavourable treatment.

question: What is the relationship between the two characters?

answer: It can be deduced that they are roommates.

question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.