text:
I had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Looking around, the car was immaculate to the point of obsession. Each item in its appropriate place was just begging to be disturbed. My sister sat beside me, silent and restless, as I fought off an intensifying urge to do something irrational. Our cassette tape had ended long ago and the resulting silence tormented my already listless mind. The cloying smell of antiquated perfume hung stagnant in the air, and the skin on my right arm was baking in the sun and making my blue jeans begin to burn my leg.

For the hundredth time, my eyes scanned the familiar house looming before me. The paint that now peeled and bubbled off the crudely built wooden frame had been pure white at one time, but was now a defiled mushroom beige. Two gaping curtainless windows gazed down at me with an air of secrecy and disgrace. The garage was an open mouth, inviting me to enter and learn its mysteries. I stared and imagined what it would be like inside, having only familiarized myself with its outer shell. And I waited.

My sister and I visited our grandmother, Amma, about once a week. Our usually monotonous visits would sometimes be interrupted by a spontaneous trip to Uncle George’s house. Uncle George was Amma’s brother only by marriage. His wife had recently passed away, however, leaving Uncle George incapable of doing even the most insignificant of domestic undertakings. Amma quickly and readily stepped in to assist the incompetent man at his every request. My sister and I were taken along at instances like these and were given explicit instructions to remain in the car. “I’ll only be a second,” Amma would tell us in an uncharacteristically hurried manner. “Just wait here and I’ll be right back.”

My sister’s foot kept tapping the back of the driver side seat in front of her. Up and down it went, as if this one extremity of hers was the only part of her body that remained alive. Tap, tap, tap, tap it went. My arm seared in the heat. That house was staring, taunting. Tap, tap. The sickly sweet fragrance made it difficult to concentrate. Tap, tap, tap. My overactive seven year old mind was an explosion of troubled anxiety. It had been too long. This was getting ridiculous. How can she expect this from us? Tap, Tap, tap, tap… I turned to my sister and immediately she saw the resolution on my face. She stared open mouthed as I gently opened the car door and stepped out onto the cracked gray driveway. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

My stomach was a rock within me and at each step my feet felt like lead. I stopped and took one last look up at that grotesque staring face with the gaping mouth, then I entered the garage. I walked slowly, unsurely. Each common object I encountered seemed exotic to my nervous eyes. There was a doorway in the shadows up ahead, painted with the same sour yellowed paint. The entrance into the very bowels of the house. My hand was sweaty on the gold doorknob, but I quietly turned it and entered.

Immediately the odor of dust, unwashed linen, and old age filled my nostrils. Fingers still on the doorknob, my first instinct was to recoil in fear and repulsion. I took a deep, putrid breath. I needed to know what was going on. At the end of the long hallway I saw a thin sliver of harsh florescent light cast onto the wall from the adjacent room. I could hear someone inside. As I walked along the wall, a growing sense of trepidation filled my small body. I shouldn’t be in here. I was going to get caught. I neared the opening from which the glaring light was coming, and hesitantly peered in.

What I saw was a standard laundry room. Lint covered button-down shirts hung from hangers on a clothesline to dry, while neat stacks of folded slacks lined the top of the dingy grey dryer. A blue plastic hamper sat on the cement floor holding a jumble of clothes that I assumed were unclean. The air was moist and smelled of mold and powder detergent.

Standing in the middle of the room, however, was the most alarming sight that I had ever witnessed. My Uncle George was stooped beneath the glaring light, putting on a pair of rumpled black dress socks. Those were the only item of clothing he was wearing. His ghost-white skin was a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings. With a naive terror, I looked up the long, gangly legs and over the flat, drooping buttocks. The backbone protruded under loose skin and my gaze involuntarily traveled upward as if on some skeletal highway. His extended neck was crowned with a mop of disheveled grey hair that sprung greasy from the pale veined scalp. He was arched over, translucent flesh sagging off the wiry frame like some prehistoric amphibious human being. Claw-like hands were ferociously pulling at the sock on his left foot as he struggled to maintain balance. He had not seen me. With my heart pounding so ferociously that I was sure I’d be caught, I bolted. Shaking with unadulterated horror, I retraced my steps as soundlessly as possible.

Safely back in the car, I waited. My sister questioned, but I couldn’t tell her. When Amma finally returned, I hysterically relayed what I had seen. All at once a look came over her worn face that I couldn’t identify. Fear? Insecurity? Anger? She quickly told me that I had seen nothing and warned me never to tell my mother what I had just described to her. She told me that it was going to be alright. That it would be our little secret. And that we were going for ice cream.

Sixteen years later, the story once again surfaced in my memory. As I relayed it to my astonished mother, the truth was deciphered. Unbeknownst to their family, Amma and my Uncle George were having an affair. What seemed like a considerate sister-in-law helping her less than capable brother was, in reality, a covert sexual escapade begging to be uncovered by the unassuming granddaughter. As the situation was discussed, the pieces fell into place like some sort of perverted relational puzzle. To this day, Amma doesn’t know that we’ve uncovered the disgraceful skeleton in her closet.

Or should I say, the naked old man in the laundry room?

title: My childhood monsters weren't only in the closet: A true story.

question: What was the state of the car the narrator and her sister are in?

answer: It was clean and immaculate.

question: What is the relationship between Amma and Uncle George?

answer: Uncle George was Amma’s brother by marriage.

question: What drove the narrator to enter Uncle George's house?

answer: Mostly curiosity.

question: What did the narrator see in the house?

answer: A naked Uncle George.

question: Write a ~7 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator and her sister are accustomed to accompanying their grandmother (Amma) to Uncle George's house. Uncle George is Amma's brother by marriage and has recently lost his wife. Since the loss has left Uncle George incapable of taking care of his domestic undertakings, Amma has stepped in to help on a regular basis.

Amma always left the narrator and her sister in the car whenever she goes in to help George. However, on this day, the narrator decided to enter the house without telling Amma. There she found a naked Uncle George prowling the laundry room. The narrator, her sister, as well as her mum came to the conclusion that both Amma and Uncle George were having an affair.


split: train

text:
Rider

My mom has always been supportive of my career as a musician. My dad never got around to it. The only bands he’d ever listen to were the Beatles and Rolling Stones. He wanted the Beatles played at his funeral, which he got. My mom never talks about the music that she listens to  except for her uncle Alan who toured the Midwest in the 50’s as a troubadour;  he’s still famous in our town.

I haven’t been home in a while, not that I miss it much. I moved to LA when I was 23. I was bored by the people at home. I was bored by my job at the grocery store and tired of not seeing anything. When I moved I had most of my” LA-experiences” during the first six months, right drugs- wrong people, that sort of thing. I thought the substances would inspire me as it seemed to inspire others but that never happened. I also played some gigs with local small-timers but it didn't amount to much.

My fourth summer in LA came around and thats when I met Terrie outside a used-car shop. I’d been looking to replace dad’s station-wagon that I’d driven to the coast. As  I was standing there looking over some of my options I saw the glint of peroxide-blonde hair and sweaty fishnet stockings out of the corner of my eye. I remember the coral lipstick, which I later learned was her favorite, so shiny on those lips. She walked up to me to bum a cigarette. As I’d recently quit smoking I apologized and told her I didn’t have any on me. Disappointed, she asked me for a lighter to borrow if she could bum a smoke from a man that was standing by a newsstand across the street. I didn’t have a lighter either but I reached into my vest pocket for the book of matches I always kept there. As I handed it to her she thanked me and smiled in the most heartbreaking way. I knew that I had to make her mine. Although I was more of what you might call the singer-songwriter type than a rocker, this girl with her glam rock look was something else. Underneath that make up I could see that she was pretty in an old-fashioned way. Later, when we were married, I used to tell her that she was like a burning wheat field blowing in the summer wind; she never understood what I meant and said I was a sucker. Our courtship was quick because her parents were very religious. Terrie was only 21 when we married but they consented and gave us their blessing because I was “a good God-fearing Midwestern boy.”

	Through Terrie I got more involved in the scene and discovered I had a knack for writing catchy riffs. I joined some of the locals who were in need of a guitarist and not long after that we played as support band for a famous band on their US tour. Months of touring and debauchery followed but after rising tensions in the band and disagreements with our management we decided to call it quits.

         Then Terrie got pregnant. She was excited but seeing as her job at the record store didn’t pay much and my being unemployed, I was worried to say the least. Fortunately I lucked out in joining as a touring and studio session guitarist with a band that had just signed  deal with a big label. Unfortunately this meant being on the road for long stretches at a time. Things quickly went downhill in our relationship and it was while touring in Japan that I got the terrible news that Terrie had suffered a miscarriage. She was inconsolable and quit her job. I tried to be home as much as I could to care for her but my obligations took me out of town again. Things between us never recovered after that and I blame myself. Two months after the loss of our child I got a call from Roy, a sergeant in the Marines who tells me he’s in love with my wife and she is in love with him and they are going to Germany. While this news hurt at first I can’t say I was surprised; I kept my nose to the grind to give me something else to think about. One tour lead to another and after 5 years the band went through a lineup change and I was thrust into the role of frontman. Evidently I did something right as we quickly started selling out the largest arenas and stadiums. We got through 3 good tours before ticket sales started to dwindle. These days we play to fairly large clubs and such, I don’t complain, seeing as it brings in good money. I live a private and enjoyable life.
	I’ve never met Terrie since our marriage ended but last I heard Roy was killed in a combat exercise and she had gotten remarried to a journalist. Even though our relationship went to pieces I still cherish terrie and our times together.
	At the venues we play the band usually has extensive requirements to ensure their comfort. My only requests on the rider are one ham sandwich and two fingers of bourbon. I usually go out into whichever city we’re playing that night and walk around while eating my sandwich. Even though the band is still fairly popular people seldom recognize me off the stage. I also try to find a bookstore to buy something by a local author for those long flights and bus rides. Just before showtime I’ll find a quiet spot in the venue and raise a glass for my Terrie.

title: "Rider"

question: What factors led to the divorce between the narrator and Terrie?

answer: The narrator explicitly mentions that the miscarriage and Terrie's subsequent depression played a large role. He thinks he didn't manage to be there for her despite staying close for two months. His being away often also played a part. Another reasonable guess is that Terrie wanted to distance herself from him because her miscarriage happened with his child, and she wants to leave that behind her.

question: Explain the narrator's experiences with drugs.

answer: The narrator doesn't elaborate much on how his experiences went with drugs except for mentioning that he thought they would inspire him. It's a common idea for people to think that drugs can help with inspiration. The narrator quickly finds out that drugs didn't really inspire.

question: Summarize Terrie's storyline.

answer: She meets the narrator outside a used-car shop. They marry after a relatively short dating period because her parents are quite traditional people. She gets pregnant after a while but has a miscarriage while the narrator is away on tour. Their strained marriage breaks down completely, and she meets a sergeant in the Marines, falling in love with him. However, the sergeant dies in a combat exercise, and she gets married to a journalist afterward.

question: Why can't the narrator get over his divorce from Terrie?

answer: It doesn't seem to be the case that he can't get over her. She's his first wife and could even be his first love. It's alright if he remembers her fondly, but none of his actions indicate he's fixated on her after their divorce.

question: Write a ~9 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator moves to LA when he's 23 years old to pursue his passion for music. He gets through his "LA experiences" phase of right drugs and wrong people in his first six months. He meets Terrie outside a used car shop and wants her to be his immediately. Their courtship is quick, and they soon marry and even get pregnant. He gets into a band in need of a guitarist, and they begin touring. During that, he learns that Terrie had a miscarriage. He tries to be there for her, but they get divorced a couple of months later when she falls in love with a sergeant in the Marines. The narrator manages to become a decent musician, living in comfort. He still raises a glass for his Terrie before shows.


text:
You hear this one a lot: “The definition of insanity is to repeat the same thing over and over again and expect different results.”

That isn’t true.

No, that’s not insanity.

I had a friend once. We’ll call him Jason. Sure, Jason. One thing you need to know about Jason is that he was a chronic nail-biter. He was the type of kid who you rarely saw without his hand up to his mouth, chewing. Just gnawing on the tough protein covering his fingers. I remember when we were very young his mother would paint his nails with clear Thum nailbiting polish that would leave a peppery and bitter taste in his mouth. But Jason didn’t care. He’d grit and bite the polish right off. He just did not care. His poor mother put that polish on his nails every single day, but he outlasted her. She eventually stopped once she realized Jason was starting to actually like the taste.

They were perpetually moist, his fingers. Jason near constantly bit his nails. He bit them right down to the epidermis and until his teeth couldn’t get a grip on the nail itself, or until it bled. It wasn’t a nervous thing, it was just a Jason thing. When you first got to know Jason you’d politely ignore it but eventually you’d get annoyed and disgusted. Then you learned to ignore it.

Jason wasn’t your average nail-biter, though. This kid never, not even once, spit out a chewed up keratin remnant on the ground. He told me the habit was disgusting enough, and he didn’t need to ramp it up by spitting nail all over the carpet. So he pocketed them. Each one. He’d chew and gnaw and bite and peel and once he had shaved off just enough of the nail to tear it off, he’d put it in his pocket.

Aside from this admittedly common habit, Jason was by and large average. We played sports together, soccer league. My mom would babysit him after school sometimes. He liked his sandwiches cut diagonally. One time I went over Jason’s house to spend the night.

Your nails grow at an average of 3 millimeters a month. They’re a form of hair, not many people know that. That’s why when you file your nails, that unmistakable smell pierces your nose, crinkling the minuscule hairs deep inside your nasal cavity. The speed in which they grow all depends on the length of the terminal phalange, so your index finger grows the quickest. In the summer, your nails grow faster. It’s true.

Every young kid has been in a situation where their friend falls asleep first at a sleepover and they don’t know what to do with themselves. On foreign territory, you’re on your own to either entertain yourself quietly or force yourself to fall asleep. On this night at Jason’s house, that kid was me. Jason was sound asleep on his bed and I was on the floor next to him in a sleeping bag, wide awake.

Bored out of my mind and doing anything to keep myself occupied before I got sleepy, I start feeling around the darkness of underneath his bed. It was very dark and I could only make out darker blobs of some number of objects tucked away under the safety of his mattress. To get a better reach, I turn myself on my stomach and turn my head flush against the carpet, unable to see what I was grabbing at now.

Jason wasn’t your average nail-biter. I reached my arm further under the bed and wrapped my fingers around what was surely some sort of glass jar. Still on my stomach with my head turned to the side, I slowly moved my hand up the jar’s opening. A mass of something cold and wet my fingers feel. Like tiny, wet wood chips. Like chewed up sunflower seeds. Like chewed up nails.

I jerk my hand back, moving my head back in position to see under his bed. Still, the darkness shrouds the jar I was feeling at. I get on my chest again and use my middle finger to delicately roll the jar out from under the bed and into plain sight. As I rolled it closer, the contents of the jar were clear.

An entire jelly jar’s worth of chewed up and spit out, *and pocketed*, nail fragments lined the inside of the glass. Half moon crescents of nail stuck to the inside walls of the jar, stained purple from scraped out Smucker’s grape jelly. Without a lid, a mass of chewed nail clippings was near dribbling out the exit of the jar, moist with saliva. Pocket lint was scattered throughout the mess. The smell is a thing difficult to describe but for fans of black licorice I’ll spare you the thought.

I look under the bed once more, seeing three, four, maybe even five more dark cylinders. More jars. More jars full of nails. I reach under again and touch glass. This jar wasn’t as full as the last. A new collection.

Gagging on the smell and desperate to hide my intrusion I roll both jars back to their original resting place. A wet glob of nails knocked loose by my jostling of the jars just lay on the carpet, moistening the plastic fibers. The lump of finger protein almost seemed to be taking the form of the original contents of the glass jar. I dig the side of my palm into the carpet and grit my teeth, scraping part of Jason’s nail collection back under the bed.

The side of my palm now wet from the spit that covered the nail shavings, I wipe it on a dry section of carpet. Making every effort going to sleep, I feel like I’m laying on a bed of nails. No pun intended.

You do any one thing enough times, over and over again, it begins to become ritual. More than ritual, even. It starts to become who you are. Doesn’t matter what it is. Washing your hands obsessively. Making sure every straight edge is aligned perfectly. Cracking your knuckles repeatedly. Biting your nails. Storing them in jars. Over and over. Over and over. Never expecting a different result—but enjoying the power of knowing it.

That’s insane.

title: INSANITY

question: What did the narrator find?

answer: Jason's collection of jars containing the nails he chews off.

question: Did Jason's parents try to stop the nail biting behaviour?

answer: Yes, his mother tried putting polish that had a taste designed to discourage nail biting. But Jason's persistence in nail-biting drove him to adapt to the taste of the polish.

question: How old is the Narrator?

answer: This information is not given, but the narrator is at least older than a kid as the events about Jason are in the past.

question: Is Jason and the Narrator close?

answer: They are close enough friend for the narrator to know about what Jason's mother tried regarding the nail biting and to also be able to sleep over at their house.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator breaks down the quote about insanity being doing repeatedly but expecting different results. He recounts sleeping over at the house of his friend Jason, who has a nail biting problem but seems otherwise normal.  At the house, the narrator discovers Jason's collection of jars all containing the nails he bites off. The narrator says insanity is when someone enjoys the ritualistic pattern of doing something over and over for a single result.


text:
  As an Arts student, you are required to fulfill the faculty-wide requirements for your degree, as well as the requirements for your specific program.

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

Overview of requirements

  Degrees/Requirements                        Writing & Research   Language   Science   Literature   Outside Credits   Upper-level Credits   Art Credit Minimum
  ------------------------------------------- -------------------- ---------- --------- ------------ ----------------- --------------------- --------------------
  Bachelor of Arts (BA)                       ✔                    ✔          ✔         ✔            ✔                 ✔                     ✔
  Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA)¹                ✔                    ⎼⎼         ⎼⎼        ⎼⎼           ✔                 ✔                     ✔
  Bachelor of International Economics (BIE)   ✔²                   ✔          ✔²        ✔            ✔                 ✔                     ✔
  Bachelor of Media Studies (BMS)             ✔³                   ⎼⎼         ⎼⎼        ⎼⎼           ⎼⎼                ✔                     ✔
  Bachelor of Music (BMus)                    ✔⁴                   ⎼⎼         ⎼⎼        ✔            ⎼⎼                ⎼⎼                    ⎼⎼
  Bachelor of Social Work (BSW)⁵              ⎼⎼                   ⎼⎼         ⎼⎼        ⎼⎼           ⎼⎼                ⎼⎼                    ⎼⎼
  Second Degree (BA)⁶                         ✔                    ✔          ✔         ✔            ⎼⎼                ✔                     ✔⁷
  Second Degree (BFA)⁶                        ✔                    ⎼⎼         ⎼⎼        ⎼⎼           ⎼⎼                ✔                     ✔⁷

¹ students entering the BFA program in 2017 or later
² this requirement is completed through BIE Cohort Required Courses
³ this requirement is completed with BMS Core Required Courses
⁴ the research component of this requirement is completed by the work in fourth-year performance lessons in BMus
⁵ requirements for the BSW program are completed prior to entering the program
⁶ Arts Academic Advising will work with Second BA/BFA students to determine if any Degree Requirements can be waived based on prior study
⁷ Arts Credit Minimum Requirement is 36 credits for second degree studies

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Writing and research requirement

As an Arts student, you must fulfill six credits towards the writing and research requirement, comprised of three credits in a writing-focused course and three credits in a research-intensive course.

Writing component

Being able to read, write, and research at the university level is fundamental to your future academic success. Satisfying the writing component early in your university career will help you reach these goals.

You must attempt to complete three credits in a writing-focused course within your first 30 credits and complete them within your first 54 credits.

To satisfy the writing component, you must complete one of the following:

-   Arts One
-   ASTU 100 or ASTU 101 (Coordinated Arts Program)
-   ENGL 100: Reading and Writing About Literature
-   WRDS 150: Research and Writing in the Humanities and Social Sciences
-   WRDS 350: Interdisciplinary Studies in Arts (for students with third or fourth year standing; this advanced course is only suitable for students who have previously completed a college- or university-level research and scholarly writing course)

If you fail the writing component twice, but otherwise meet continuation requirements, you may continue your studies but are restricted to a reduced credit load of nine credits maximum per term (Winter session) and nine credits over the entire Summer session with no more than six credits per term. These credit restrictions remain until the writing component is successfully completed.

Research component

Your research component course is your opportunity to contribute to knowledge in your field and to engage with the scholarly community.

You must successfully complete three credits in a research-intensive course between 30 and 120 credits of your Arts degree. Typically, you will register in a research-intensive course specified for your program (major).

Research-intensive courses often have prerequisites and some will be restricted to majors in the discipline. Be sure to investigate your options early so you can ensure you will be prepared.

View approved research-intensive courses:

-   Bachelor of Arts (BA)
-   Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA)

QUALIFIES AS A RESEARCH-INTENSIVE COURSE:

-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 447 “Korean Women’s Literature”
-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 490A 001 “Asian Classics: Partition of India in Film and Narrative” taught in 18W
-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 491 “India and the Persianate World”
-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 490H 001 “Asian Classics: Representations of the Chinese Ghost” taught in 20W Term 2
-   Central, Eastern and Northern European Studies (CENS) 303D “Representations of the Holocaust”, taken as part of the “Witnessing Auschwitz” Global Seminar (other sections of CENS 303 do not qualify)
-   Computer Science (CPSC) 436 “Topics in Computer Science – Video Game Programming” taught in 17W and 18W
-   Haida Gwaii Semesters (HGSE) 350 “Case Studies in Haida Gwaii”
-   MATH 344 "Mathematical Game Theory" taught in 2020W
-   NEST400A "Interconnections in the Late Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean" (taught in 2020W)

DOES _NOT_ QUALIFY AS A RESEARCH-INTENSIVE COURSE:

-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 478
-   Linguistics (LING) 447H “Topics in Linguistics – American Sign Language” taught in 17W and 18W
-   JAPN 452 taught in 16W
-   400-level Political Science (POLI) courses taught as Student-Directed Seminars

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Language requirement

As an Arts student, you are encouraged to fulfill the language requirement within your first 60 credits.

To fulfill the language requirement, you must complete one of the following:

Prior to admission, and while still in secondary school, you can complete a language course (excluding English) at a level equivalent to BC Grade 12.

-   This option is particularly recommended for students who have knowledge of a language but no secondary school or university transcript to prove competency.
-   If you are planning on completing a proficiency examination to meet the language requirement, plan well-ahead.
-   Arrangements for proficiency testing must be made through the department providing instruction in the language.
-   If a language is not taught at UBC (e.g. modern Arabic, Greek, or Hebrew) contact Arts Academic Advising in your first year of study to confirm the possibility of testing in your language.

-   View a list of UBC courses that fulfill the language requirement.
-   Most of these courses have prerequisites, so we strongly advise that you begin working towards this requirement in your first year.
-   Some courses have placement tests and may not be offered every session, so be sure to plan ahead and check the course schedule or contact the department.

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Science requirement

In order to ensure the development of an understanding and appreciation of scientific methods, applications, and reasoning, you must complete six credits chosen from approved courses administered by the Arts, Science, Forestry, Land and Food Systems, Medicine, or Applied Science faculties.

You are not permitted to earn credit for two or more courses with significant overlap, so consult the credit exclusion list to see which courses overlap before registering.

QUALIFIES AS A SCIENCE REQUIREMENT:

-   SPPH 381C, Environmental Impacts on Human Health, taught in 17W, 18W, 19W and 20W
-   ARCL 325, Paleoanthropology
-   ASIC 220, Introduction to Sustainability
-   APBI 100, Soil and the Global Environment

The following courses satisfy the science requirement and are well suited for students with little or no science background.

ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHAEOLOGY

-   ARCL 140: Bones: The Origins of Humanity
-   ARCL 203: Archaeological Methods
-   ARCL 228: Forensic Anthropology
-   ARCL 235: Controlling Nature: Plant and Animal Domestication
-   ARCL 326: Primatology
-   ARCL 345: Molecular Archaeology

APPLIED SCIENCE

-   APSC 366: The Art of the Possible: An Introduction to Engineering for Non-Engineers

ARTS AND SCIENCE INTERDISCIPLINARY

-   ASIC 200: Global Issues in the Arts and Sciences
-   ASIC 220: Introduction to Sustainability

ASTRONOMY

-   ASTR 310: Exploring the Universe I: The Solar System
-   ASTR 311: Exploring the Universe II: Stars and Galaxies

ATMOSPHERIC SCIENCE

-   ATSC 113: Applied Meteorology

BIOLOGY

-   BIOL 343: Plants and Peoples
-   BIOL 344: Human Heredity and Evolution
-   BIOL 344: Human Heredity and Evolution
-   BIOL 345: Human Ecology
-   BIOL 346: Microbes and Society

CELLULAR, ANATOMICAL, AND PHYSIOLOGICAL SCIENCES

-   CAPS 210: Exploring the Human Body: How does the body work?

EARTH AND OCEAN SCIENCES

-   EOSC 310: The Earth and the Solar System
-   EOSC 311: The Earth and its Resources
-   EOSC 312: The Earth System and Environmental Evolution
-   EOSC 314: The Ocean Environment
-   EOSC 315: The Ocean Ecosystem

FOOD, NUTRITION, AND HEALTH

-   FNH 200: Exploring Our Food

GEOGRAPHY

-   GEOB 102: Introduction to Geographical Biogeosciences: Climate and Vegetation
-   GEOB 103: Introduction to Geographical Biogeosciences: Water and Landscapes

MATHEMATICS

-   MATH 335: Introduction to Mathematics

NATURAL RESOURCE CONSERVATION

-   CONS 127: Observing the Earth from Space

PHYSICS

-   PHYS 340: Revolutions in Understanding the Universe
-   PHYS 341: Physics of Music
-   PHYS 343: Physical Science by Inquiry

POPULATION AND PUBLIC HEALTH

-   SPPH 301: Understanding the Sociocultural Determinants of the Health of Populations

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Literature requirement

As an Arts student, you must complete six credits in literature.

All incoming students who wish to take any Chinese, Japanese, Hindi-Urdu, or Korean literature courses are required to complete a placement test with the Department of Asian Studies to obtain placement approval for registration. Students without this approval should deregister before the first withdrawal deadline.

QUALIFIES AS A LITERATURE REQUIREMENT:

-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 336, 395, 412, 413, 431 and 461
-   Central, Eastern, and Northern European studies (CENS) 201, _SECTION 004, TAUGHT IN 20W TERM 2 ONLY_
-   English (ENGL) 200
-   English (ENGL) 409K taught in 17W
-   German (GERM) 206
-   German (GERM404) Religion and German Literature
-   History (HIST) 403B taught in 17W or 18W
-   Near Eastern Studies (NEST) 401
-   Persian (PERS) 451
-   Scandinavian Studies (SCAN) 332B taught in 18S and 19S

DOES _NOT_ QUALIFY AS A LITERATURE REQUIREMENT:

-   Asian Studies (ASIA) 444
-   Chinese (CHIN) 2nd transfer credit preclusions for CHIN 431 and 433
-   Chinese (CHIN) 3nd transfer credit preclusions for CHIN 481, 483, 491 and 493
-   English (ENGL) 112 and ENGL 229
-   Sanskrit (SANS) 300 taught in 16W

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Credit requirements

In order to earn your degree, you must complete a set number of credits, including outside credits, upper-level credits, and the Arts credit minimum.

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

Appealing a degree requirement

If you believe you have already met a Faculty of Arts degree requirement (writing and research requirement, literature requirement, or science requirement), submit an appeal for exemption form in order to be assessed for an exemption based on your transfer credit or prior study.

_Note: The language requirement cannot be appealed through this form. Please contact Arts Academic Advising to inquire about language requirement appeals._

question: What degree requirements are being looked at?

answer: The degree requirements for an Arts student is being looked at

question: How many credits as an Art student need to be focused towards writing and research?

answer: 6 credits

question: What is the research component an opportunity for?

answer: To contribute to knowledge in your field and to engage with the scholarly community

question: Name one research-intensive course.

answer: Asian Studies (ASIA) 447 “Korean Women’s Literature”

question: What does not qualify as a research-intensive course?

answer: Sanskrit (SANS) 300 taught in 16W

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The degree requirements for an Arts student is listed and described. Writing and research components are described intensively, including the amount of credits needed in these requirements.


text:
A controversial anti-gay hate preacher has mistakenly tweeted a satirical cartoon mash-up that sees him confessing to being a “homosexual sodomite”.

New York pastor James David Manning, leader of the ATLAH World Missionary Church in Harlem, appears to have shared Adam Reake’s video with his 4,215 followers accidentally – or at least without actually watching the entire clip.

Mr Reake’s mash-up has the anti-gay hate preacher, who most recently urged his followers to boycott Starbuck because – according to him – the global chain has been using the “sodomites’ semen” to flavour their lattes, confess to being a “homosexual sodomite”.

He then goes on to say in the video: “Now I know why I go to Starbucks.”

The video continues in a similar vein for the rest of the three minutes and it has already clocked up over 2,000 views since being published earlier this week.

It seems unlikely Manning, who in an interview earlier this year said he regards homosexuality as a “detestable, abominable, diseased practise”, is aware of the full content of the cartoon.

He first came to America’s attention in 2008 when he accused then-presidential candidate Barack Obama’s mother of being “white trash” for sleeping with a black man and since then has become embroiled in various other unsavoury campaigns.

These include, but are not limited to, accusing President Obama of “using gay people to wipe out the black community”, claiming that Starbucks is “ground zero” for Ebola and calling on Harlem residents to boycott all shops thus halting gentrification and returning the neighbourhood to the black community, who he perceives are the sole rightful owners.

ATLAH, All The Land Anointed Holy, Church was founded by Reverend Millard Alexander Stanley in 1957. In 1981 Manning replaced Stanley as chief pastor.

question: Who is Adan Reake?

answer: A controversial anti-gay hate preacher

question: Who is James David Manning?

answer: Chief pastor in New York.

question: What were the contents of the video clip shared?

answer: a satirical cartoon mash-up that sees Reake confessing to being a "homosexual sodomite".

question: What does Manning accuse President Obama of?

answer: "Using gay people to wipe out the black community."

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer:
Adam Reake, a controversial anti-gay hate preacher, tweets a satirical cartoon mash-up, confessing to be a "homosexual sodomite".
New York pastor, James David Manning, accidentally shares the video clip with his followers.
Manning first came under the spotlight in 2008 when he made unsavory comments about Barack Obama and also Starbucks.


text:
To Hatch From a Broken Egg

	I was sitting in the living room with my arms crossed when Grandpa gathered the family around the dining room table. Grandpa was a giant of a man, with thighs like redwoods and hands like plains. I was the last to stand up when I began to walk over to the circle that had formed around the table. “I would like to see,” Grandpa began, with big pauses between each phrase, “someone attempt to balance this egg upright, without using any tools to hold it up.”

	The whiteness of the egg stood out in Grandpa’s wrinkled and purple spotted hands. It seemed so small. I studied the egg while my family began to buzz. My older cousin smirked and whispered something in my Dad’s ears that made him laugh. Uncle Joe was doing one of his James Cagney impressions to my brother and cousin. Aunt Anna had walked in the room from cooking and chuckled when she saw my grandpa holding the egg.
I was the only one paying attention, focusing on how you could possibly make a small oval stand. No one else was going to complete this challenge but me. When my Mom put her arms around my chest, and gave me a kiss on the cheek I pushed her away and said, “I can do it!”

	My grandpa’s heavy eyes shifted to me and his lips peeled into a grin, revealing yellow stained crooked teeth. His hands, like a giant compared to mine, handed me the egg. I began working right away.

	I made quick glances to Grandpa as I tried to balance it, hoping his gray eyes would light up at a correct attempt or that his white eyebrows would raise at a sign of progress, but he remained unemotional and still. I tried to ignore the commentary of my family at first.  Dad said, “oh so close,” several times with a laugh while Uncle David commentated like a sports announcer, “Jacob Lans. Balancing the egg. Can he do it? Ah, keeps missing.”

	After several minutes my older cousin said, “Come on, Jake. Give it back to Grandpa.” I ignored him but when my Mom stepped in saying, “Hun, you can try later, it’s fine,” the doubt became harder to ignore.

	“Let me just try!” I said, trying not to sound upset.

	Eventually my Uncle Joe stopped impersonating James Cagney. My father raised his eye brows and stood up from the table and my brother began to attack me. “Jacob you can’t do it.”

	“Don’t worry, Jakey. It’s impossible,” someone else said.

	I wanted to shut my family up and make them see that I could do it. I wanted them to know that just I could complete a task that was impossible for most. And I did.

	I finally stood the egg up right. It wasn’t balancing against anything; it was just standing up on its own. All because of me. I looked up in amazement, hoping to see my family enthusiastic with my accomplishment, but instead, half of them were gone and the other half had already moved on to new conversations. Only my cousin Rachel said, “Wow! Look guys! Jake did it!”

	As Rachel began to get my family’s attention I looked to Grandpa who was not grinning but seemed thrown by the egg standing up. As I waited for a response from Grandpa, the whole family began to circle back around the table.

	Before they could all see what I had done, Grandpa snagged the egg off the table, smashed it lightly against a plate, leaving the egg’s bottom flat surfaced with a crack, placed the it on the table, and forced a chuckle as everyone watched the egg stand up on its own. He said, “That is how you make an egg stand.”

	I quickly looked at my Grandpa, who avoided eye contact with me and laughed deliberately with the older cousins. My head spun to my parents, who had acknowledged Grandpa’s quaint gag but not my success and then it spun back to my Grandpa who was still ignoring me.

I darted out of living room and up to my room. I dove into my bed, grabbed my Teddy and belted a long hard cry into my pillow. No one came up to check on me until after they had lit the candles.

title: Creative Flash Fiction

question: What is Grandpa like?

answer: He is a big man and a bit of a cruel jokester

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: Jacob

question: What does the narrator want to try?

answer: He wants to try balancing an egg upright

question: Who else is present during the story?

answer: Grandpa, Aunt Anna, Uncle Joe, the narrator's brother and parents

question: Why does the narrator cry?

answer: He gets ignored after his Grandpa ruins his achievement for a joke.

question: What event is happening during the story?

answer: Somebody's birthday

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator's grandpa challenges those present to balance an egg on the table. The narrator wants to achieve the challenge and eventually succeeds. However, before others can acknowledge his success, his jealous grandfather breaks the egg and makes a joke. The narrator leaves to cry, feeling ignored.


text:
"I'm sorry, but I just can't deal with your sob stories tonight," she said to me as I sat beside her brushing my fingers through her hair.
"It's not a sob story," I protest. "I just want you to understand why I feel the things I feel."
"Sometimes I think you just need to be checked for some kind of mental disorder."
Five minutes passed as I continued to brush her hair. Finally I broke the stillness and whispered to her.
"Are you still afraid of me?" I breathed.
A soft nod was all that she managed to show. That was the worst pain of all. I kissed her on the head as I got up to go but I felt her quiver upon the touch of my lips. It was difficult to get up and go to my car with my heart dragging me down the whole way. I still needed to get gas. Coming to see her before I left town again used the last of the gallon that I had.

Before making it to the gas station I saw a trooper waiting with his lights on pointed towards the speed trap. He would find his man. Tonight it would not be me. My mother gave me her debit card to use for gas. We weren't extensively wealthy but she felt that if she didn't buy me gas I would stay at school across state. She enjoyed spending time with me so she would make sure I had a way to come see her.

I reminded my mother of my father. Before he became self absorbed, sheltered, and cynical. I loved my relationship with her but I often knew how much of a burden I was being financially. An engineering degree isn't free and every day I felt like I was leeching the life from her. As the debit card failed to make a transaction the realization struck me harder than it had before. I took out the cash I had to pay for the gas instead. Ashamed that I had ever thought about using her card, I quickly shuffled it into my back pocket behind my wallet closest to my body.

As I pumped gas I thought about the money I had saved. I was trying to buy this girl that I loved an engagement ring but she was incapable of just listening to me. I didn't need responses. All I ever really wanted was someone to just listen and make me feel like I was normal and I had normal problems with normal thoughts.

Earlier in the night she yelled at me while I was trying to talk to her.

"OKAY FINE. I UNDERSTAND. IT'S ALL MY FAULT THAT YOUR STUPID TOY WON'T WORK."

"You're not listening to me. You're not listening to me. You're not listening to me. It's not your fault that 5 people are on Facebook at the same time. I'm just trying to tell you that I get stressed out that things only work when I'm alone with no one else around."

"Whatever," she mumbled under her breath.

I looked down and saw my fist clenched as I sat beside her. Why was it in a fist? In that instance I saw the consequences of a clinched fist. I saw her crying with bruises on her face. I saw my head splattered on the floor as her father battered me with his college bat. I saw all the paths that a fist would lead me and rushed back to the noise of the present and watched my hands relax.

As I drove home I pondered these things in my heart. How could I confidently marry anyone at this point. Especially someone who was afraid of me. Afraid of what I'd do. Couldn't do. Never do. Could never do to her.

I saw the lights of a truck hurrying up behind me. It was late and must kids had curfews to meet. He sped up and passed. Either he didn't know about the stop sign or he didn't care that it was coming up. The truck continued at the same pace through the intersection. At the same moment a tractor trailer was passing through the intersection.

The sound was blood curdling as I saw the truck get ripped to shreds. The mass slid 60 yards before coming to a halt. The truck cab was caved to the floor. The driver was killed instantly. I could do nothing. I could only watch and see the consequences.

title: Tripolar

question: What happens between the narrator and his girlfriend?

answer: It's implied that he recognizes the futility of their relationship, it's inevitable that they break up.


text:
_THE FIELD OF FIGHT: HOW WE CAN WIN THE GLOBAL WAR AGAINST RADICAL ISLAM AND ITS ALLIES_ is a book on United States national security strategy coauthored by Michael T. Flynn and Michael Ledeen. Published by Macmillan's imprint St. Martin's Press in 2016, it argues that the United States is engaged in a religious world war against what the authors call “Radical Islam”—defined as a violent “tribal cult” emanating from a “failed civilization”—but has so far been hampered in its response by political correctness. The authors claim that the United States and its allies face “an international alliance of evil countries and movements that is working to destroy us” and advocate a combination of increased military action and ideological warfare in response. They identify a range of enemies of which Iran is the foremost, and advocate a strategy of regime change aimed at overthrowing the Iranian government as a key step towards defeating “Radical Islam”.

The book briefly entered the US bestseller chart but received a mixed critical response. Its assertions and proposed solutions were strongly criticized by reviewers on both sides of the political divide, though some conservative reviewers praised the book's qualities.

Background and sales

Michael T. Flynn, in whose voice the book is written,[1] is a retired lieutenant general of the United States Army. After having previously been involved in counter-terrorist operations at the Joint Special Operations Command, he became head of the Defense Intelligence Agency in 2012 but was removed from his position in 2014, ending a thirty-year military career. He subsequently became a strident critic of the Barack Obama administration and a key adviser to Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump. Following the 2016 United States presidential election, he was named National Security Advisor by the victorious Trump.[2][3]

His co-author Michael Ledeen is a neoconservative historian who is the “Freedom Scholar” at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies. He is well known in security circles as a long-standing opponent of Iran, advocating regime change there and previously supporting the 2003 Iraq War.[4][5]

_The Field of Fight_ emerged from an op-ed that Flynn co-wrote with Republican presidential candidate Carly Fiorina.[6] St Martin's Press announced in December 2015 that it would be publishing the book the following July. In a press release, Flynn said: “I am writing this book for two reasons: first, to show that the war is being waged against us by enemies this administration has forbidden us to describe: radical Islamists. Second, to lay out a winning strategy that is not passively relying on technology and drone attacks to do the job. We could lose this war; in fact, right now we are losing. _The Field of Fight_ will give my view on how to win.”[7]

After its publication on July 1, 2016, _The Field of Fight_ briefly entered the _Publishers Weekly_ bestseller list for the week ending July 17. It reached #9 in the chart but fell out of the top 10 the following week.[8]

Synopsis

Current situation

After a short autobiographical account of Flynn's career,[9] _The Field of Fight_ paints a gloomy picture of the current state of the struggle against terrorism. Flynn says that he is “totally convinced that without a proper sense of urgency, we will be eventually defeated, dominated, and very likely destroyed”. As a result, the United States is in danger of being “ruled by men who eagerly drink the blood of their dying enemies”.[10] He warns that “radical Islamists” are intent on “creating an Islamic state right here at home” in the United States by imposing Sharia law, forcing Americans to “live the way the unfortunate residents of the ‘caliphate’ or the oppressed citizens of the Islamic Republic of Iran live today, in a totalitarian state under the dictates of the most rigid version of Sharia.”[11]

[_The Field of Fight_ opens with an autobiographical account of Flynn, one of its co-authors]

The book argues that the US government is hampered by a lack of intelligence-gathering against its enemies and pays insufficient attention to their ideological motivations.[12] Flynn asserts that the US faces “a working coalition that extends from North Korea and China to Russia, Iran, Syria, Cuba, Bolivia, Venezuela, and Nicaragua. We are under attack, not only from nation-states directly, but also from al Qaeda, Hezbollah, ISIS, and countless other terrorist groups.”[13] He describes this as “an alliance between radical Islamists and regimes in Havana, Pyongyang, Moscow and Beijing. Both believe that history, and/or Allah, blesses their efforts, and so both want to ensure that this glorious story is carefully told.”[14] Flynn argues that this alliance is based on a shared hatred for the United States and “a contempt for democracy and an agreement—by all the members of the enemy alliance — that dictatorship is a superior way to run a country, an empire, or a caliphate”.[15] He acknowledges that the idea of an alliance between communist China, North Korea and ISIS/al Qaeda may seem strange, but does not go into detail other than asserting that it exists.[16]

Flynn identifies Iran as the “linchpin” of the alliance. He asserts that events such as the 1979 seizure of the Grand Mosque in Mecca by Sunni extremists and the 1998 United States embassy bombings in Africa—also carried out by Sunni extremists, in this case Al-Qaeda—were actually instigated by Shia Iran.[17][18] Iran's on-and-off support for al Qaeda is cited as evidence of an alliance between the two; Flynn asserts that for political reasons, the Barack Obama administration has refused to release evidence of this link from Osama bin Laden's captured documents.[19]

Flynn calls for the United States to “remov[e] the sickening chokehold of tyranny, dictatorships, and Radical Islamist regimes”, which he says has seriously endangered the United States in recent decades. However, he makes a distinction between friendly and unfriendly dictatorships, categorised by their opposition to “Radical Islam”. Thus, dictators such as Egypt's president Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, the former Tunisian president Zine Ben Ali and even Saddam Hussein should have been supported by the US government for their value in fighting “Radical Islam”.[20] Working towards democracy in Middle East in the short to medium term is deemed unrealistic, and Flynn advises instead that the focus should be on restoring “order” to the region.[21] Russia would also be an “ideal partner for fighting Radical Islam” if it shared the same worldview on the issue.[22] However, Flynn is critical of Russia's approach, writing that “it behooves us to remember that the Russians haven't been very effective at fighting jihadis on their own territory, and are in cahoots with the Iranians”[23] and acknowledges that Vladimir Putin would probably not welcome cooperation with the US.[24]

Past US government policy towards Iran is strongly criticized by Flynn, who argues that American administrations have consistently failed to oppose the regime effectively. He writes that “no American president” has called for regime change or supported Iranian dissidents and condemns the administrations of Jimmy Carter and Barack Obama for, respectively, failing to support the last Shah of Iran and negotiating a nuclear deal with Iran. Describing the 2003 Iraq War as “a huge mistake”, he argues that the US should have focused on Tehran rather than Baghdad and suggests that “we can best attack the enemy alliance at its weakest point, the failure of the Iranian revolution.” He advocates an attack that “should be political not military”, concentrated on supporting the Iranian opposition, and cites the fall of the Soviet Union as an example of this approach working.[25]

Countries which are seen as weak on terrorism should be targeted for punitive action, in Flynn's view. He writes that “Countries like Pakistan need to be told that we will not tolerate” terrorist training camps, safe havens and funding. “They are going to have to choose, and if they continue to help the jihadis, we are going to treat them harshly, cutting them off from American assistance, and operating against enemy safe havens.”[26] The US should work with allies—Flynn specifically names Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, India, Argentina, Britain, Australia, France, Germany and Italy—to weaken, overthrow or defeat jihadism and enemy regimes.[27]

Proposed political war

The authors' proposed two-track approach would also see a political war to discredit both “Radical Islam” and what they regard as anti-Western dictatorships.[28] Flynn argues that the United States is engaged in a religious war and sees this as an essential component of winning the fight, citing the outcome of the Protestant Reformation. He writes: “This kind of war is not at all new. It created our world ... The world badly needs an Islamic Reformation, and we should not be surprised if violence is involved. It’s normal.”[29]

The book urges the United States to define the enemy more clearly, declaring that “[w]e’ve got to stop feeling the slightest bit guilty about calling them by name and identifying them as fanatical killers acting on behalf of a failed civilization”.[30] Flynn says that he does not “believe all cultures are morally equivalent, and I think the West, and especially America, is far more civilized, far more ethical and moral, than the system our main enemies want to impose on us.”[31] He describes jihadists as a “tribal cult” and “a messianic mass movement of evil people” who are waging “a global war ... waged against us by all true Radical Islamists in the name of Allah.” He compares the situation to that which the West faced in World War II and the Cold War, when ideology was an integral part of the struggle against Nazism and Communism, and argues: “We can’t win this war by treating Radical Islamic terrorists as a handful of crazies ... The political and theological underpinnings of their immoral actions have to be demolished.”[32]

The means by which this should be done, according to Flynn, include a range of ideological counter-measures. Tech companies such as Google, Facebook and Twitter should undertake “their own positive messaging campaign about the betterment of humankind” (though Flynn does not define the specifics of this). Ideological messages should also accompany military operations; successful actions should be followed by messages “asking whether the Almighty had changed sides in the holy war. After all, if previous victories were the result of divine blessing, were defeats not proof that their cause had been rejected on high?”[33] While acknowledging that such actions may incur accusations of Islamophobia, Flynn asserts that the real problem is politically correct Islamophilia: “If, as PC apologists tell us, there is no objective basis for members of one culture to criticize another, then it is very hard to see—and forbidden to write about or say—the existence of an international alliance of evil countries and movements that is working to destroy us.”[34]

Flynn summarises his plan of action as being to “engage the violent extremists wherever they are, drive them from their safe havens, and kill them or capture them”. He argues that the US has to “organize all our national power, from military and economic to intelligence and tough-minded diplomacy” but warns that the struggle is likely to be costly and will last “several generations”. The strategy should “clearly define your enemy; face reality—for politicians, this is never an easy thing to do; understand the social context and fabric of the operational environment; and recognize who’s in charge of the enemy forces.”[35]

Changes to the US government's approach to intelligence and security should also be made, according to Flynn. He advocates an end to government agencies' overlapping efforts on cybersecurity, which he attributes to their desire to gain as much bureaucratic turf and federal money as possible. On intelligence, he draws on his experience of countering the Iraqi insurgency to make the case for working much more closely with local allies: “both the information and the strategy come from the people—the citizens of these countries—caught up in the war itself. We must work closely with those people. They have crucial information, and they will determine who wins.”[36]

Reactions

The book received mixed, and generally politically polarized, reviews. Several reviewers found the book unsatisfactory for its contradictions. William McCants of the Brookings Institution's Center for Middle East Policy describes the book's argument as “muddled”, commenting that “[i]t's strange to find a book about strategy so at odds with itself.” He notes that while it offers “two very different views of how to exercise American power abroad”, its contradictory perspectives leave the reader unable to decide between them.[37] Another Brookings Institution scholar, Thomas Wright, suggests that the book's contradictions reflect diverging viewpoints between the two authors.[38] Christopher J. Fettweis notes in _The National Interest_ that the book strongly reflects Michael Ledeen's “oft-expressed worldview” and wonders how much Flynn had to do with it.[39] Writing in _The Washington Post_, Carlos Lozoda comments that the book reflects two sides of Flynn—“respected intelligence officer” and “rabid and influential partisan”. It “oscillat[es] between straightforward analysis and vague, impassioned diatribes, untroubled by contradictions or evolutions.”[40]

Flynn's proposals and assertions were also criticized by reviewers and commentators. Shamir Shahidshaless comments in _Gulf News_ that Flynn “simplistically ignores a complex collection of political, economic and military failures” that caused the Soviet collapse and assumes falsely that it was simply Western support for internal dissent that was decisive.[41] Lozoda characterizes Flynn's proposed strategy as “a generic jumble of buzzwords”.[42] In Wright's view, it is “a mystery what could motivate a foreign policy professional to espouse such views or what practical policy agenda could possibly emerge from them.”[43] _The Economist_ criticized Flynn for “grossly exaggerating the danger that jihadist terrorism actually represents to America”.[44] The Chinese government, which has faced Islamist violence in its western region of Xinjiang, also pushed back on Flynn's assertions of an alliance between China and al Qaeda/ISIS. A foreign ministry spokesman urged people to “base their opinions on facts when taking a position.”[45]

A number of conservative commentators praised _The Field of Fight_. Diana Furchtgott-Ross of the Manhattan Institute writes in the _National Review_ that “if you wish to understand the terrorist attacks sweeping the world, there’s no better place to start than _The Field of Fight_” and called it a must-read for both Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, and their respective military advisers.[46] In the _New York Observer_, Jason Criss Howk calls the book “concise and straight to the point” while conceding that the authors “use some terminology I, as a Middle East specialist, don’t agree with”, specifically in conflating “radical Islam” and “radical Islamism”. Nonetheless he describes the book's proposals as “spot on and [they] create a recipe for upgrading our capabilities”.[47] Caroline Glick of the _Jerusalem Post_ praises the book as “a breath of fresh air in the acrid intellectual environment that Washington has become during the Obama administration” and says that it contributes “essential insights to the discussion of the global jihad”.[48]

Not all conservatives were supportive of the book. Daniel Larison of _The American Conservative_ called its worldview “deranged”, describing its identification of a “non-existent 'global alliance'” as foolish, dangerous, grossly exaggerated and distorted. He summed it up as “reheated Cheneyism with a dollop of Santorumesque hyperbole”.[49]

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title: The Field of Fight

question: What is The Field of Light about?

answer: It is a book on United States national security strategy. The book sees the United States as engaged in a religious world war against what the authors call "Radical Islam".

question: Who is the author of The Field of Light?

answer: It was coauthored by Michael T. Flynn and Michael Ledeen.

question: Why did the author feel compelled to write this book?

answer: Flynn said he wrote this book for two reasons: first, to show that a war was being waged against the United States by enemies the Obama administration had forbidden people to describe: radical Islamists. Second, to lay out a winning strategy against a war he believes the U.S. is losing.

question: What are Flynn's thoughts on President Obama?

answer: He was a strong critic of the Obama administration. In the book he criticized Obama for failing to support the last Shah of Iran and negotiating a nuclear deal with Iran.

question: What are the authors' political leanings?

answer: Based off the article, Flynn seems to be a conservative and it is definitively stated that Ledeen is a neoconservative.

question: Why does Flynn call for the United States to “remove the sickening chokehold of tyranny, dictatorships, and Radical Islamist regimes"?

answer: He says these groups have seriously endangered the United States in recent decades.

question: What was the general reaction to the book?

answer: The reactions were mostly mixed, and generally politically polarized, reviews.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: This article goes into detail about the 2016 book The Field of Light: How We Can Win the Global War Against Radical Islam and Its Allies. It was written by Michael T. Flynn, a key adviser to Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, and Michael Ledeen, a neoconservative historian. It is a book on United States national security strategy, and argues that the United States is engaged in a religious world war against what the authors call “Radical Islam”.


text:
I sat with my little brother in the back seat, his head carefully propped on my shoulder. I pushed his golden hair from his eyes. They were closed but when i touched him he peeked through his eye lids to reveal glacier ice blue eyes. They looked like father's while i had mother's grey eyes. I smiled warmly at him. He snuggled up against me comfortably. I glanced up at our mother in the driver seat. My gaze softening, i had sympathy for the ragged woman falling apart behind her steering wheel. I was only seven but i understood that was happening. My brother almost two years my junior couldn't see the pain she possessed.

I creased my eyebrows in suspicion as i watched the yellow line cross the windshield. Bright lights blared in our faces. A loud horn froze my blood. "Mom!"I screamed reaching forward for her. She was startled and swerved wildly in an attempt to get us back in the right lane. The car stuck our back bumper at just the angle to spin our car uncontrollably. The momentum slid me across the seat to slam into the door. It hadn't been closed all the way. I screamed as, like a rag doll, i was tossed out into the snow. I was lucky the snow was so deep it cushioned the blow so that hitting the ground didn't kill me. I lay there for a long time listening to the ringing in my ears, my vision fading in and out. Once it stopped i struggled to my feet. Swaying i stumbled back to the road. The other car had slammed into a tree, the occupant no where to be seen. But my mom's car was absent. I looked around and saw tire tracks in the snow. I ran, following them best i could in the dark. My weight made me stumble as my legs sunk into the soft snow up to my knees.

The car came into view. It had struck a tree. The left blinker was on and the bright headlights stared out into the forest. I fell in the snow in my struggle to get to the door. Looking at the hood a crumpled figure lay there to big to be my brother. Tears stung my eyes as i watched the headlight slowly become crimson and shadows pooled around the figure. The horrible smell of cooper and feces lodged in my nose. It was so pungent i gaged as my stomach spasmed into a tight knot.

 I opened the back door trying not to vomit or break down. Tears streaked my face. But the sight inside tore out my heart."No!"i screamed into the night. I clambered into the car and reached over my brother's awkward form. I clicked the belt open and pulled him into my arms. He was limp and rapidly beginning to cool. I screamed again, this made my heart constrict and tears flowed freely. "Rend! Rend!"i wailed piteously my voice cracking with every attempt. I clung to him and his name. Repeating it with every sob till i felt him twitch. Gasping i touched his face, wiping his hair and my tears off it. His eyes opened slowly to close again. His golden eyelashes made half moons on his pale skin. "Hold on Rend i'll get help!"i reassured holding his close.
"No."he rasped in a sticky wet voice,"Stay here, stay... With ... Me." His voice became softer and softer.
"Rend please dont go, i'll stay i'll stay.Just dont die." I begged wiping my eyes.
"Im cold." He whispered.
He didn't say anything after that. I put my fingers to his jugular, a faint pulse began to fade against my fingers. Against my word i left him to look for help.

I screamed and cried falling into the snow. Putting my hands over my face i apologized to Rend for leaving him. I fell to my knees and leaned forward bowing into the snow. I stayed like that wishing the cold would take me and i could die to. "What a sorry being." An indifferently kind voice murmured. I lifted my head to look at the owner of such a voice. A woman stood there, her eyes were yellow and a top her head was a set of horns. She smiled wickedly."A fiend." I whispered. Getting to my feet i shoved her as hard as my body would allowed. She stumbled back glaring at me.
"What in holy hell do yas think ya doing?"she snapped.
"Kill me... Please kill me." I said shoving her again.
"Quit it."she ordered,"i wont kill yas."
"I left him. Hes dead. My brother." My eyes welled with tears again. Hiccuping gasps made my throat burn from the cold. She watched me with interest now. Touching my head she said,"maybe i can help."

I led her back to the car and climbed into the car to retrieve Rend. He was still limp, not stiff yet. She touched him with a hand as i cradled his body. Her eyes got a sympathetic look. 'Was he to far to be saved?' I wondered. She met my eyes.
"I can bring him back, by sharing my life." She said then added," but in return... Im sure you know what i want."
I didn't have to think about it. I agreed and held him out to her,"Just save him, please. Its not worth living without him."

Her magic was beautiful as it danced over Rend's skin before sinking into his pores. It was amazing to watch the color return to his skin and the light in his eyes return. She handed him back to me carefully. I held him tight as he gasped for air. "Big brother?" His soft voice asked. I nodded happily. The last of my tears spilled out and dripped onto his skin. He hugged me back trying to make me stop crying. The woman cleared her throat. I looked at her, then glanced down at my brothers small figure. His back rose and fell when he breathed. I pulled back from him to look at his face. He searched my face with confused eyes, i felt the seriousness contort my face. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He smiled at the attention. I let him go suddenly and this confused him. "We had a deal." I said under my breath. The woman took my hand and smiled. My body felt like it were on fire but i withheld my scream. Suddenly i was blind.

Rend sat there watching as his older brother disappeared into smoke with the woman. He sat there staring into the snowy night. He said nothing for a long time. Then he climbed from the car, the exertion turning his stomach. Following the tire tracks he stayed as cold as the snow. The odd calm that came over him reminded  him of the numbness of loss that ached inside him. He reached the road in time to see the lights of a police car. He stepped into the lights and collapsed, everything suddenly slammed into him. All the feelings, all the ache of revival, and even a strange feeling he didn't recognize. It was like his body filled with worms. They snaked beneath his skin and burrowed deep into his body before sending a toxin through his blood. He spasmed and shuddered as it filled up his entire body with a burning itch. Peeking through tightly squinted eyes  he saw a slick shine reflect the cars in someone's shoes. The lights lost all their color. They became pulsing shades of gray. They everything was consumed by the black of unconsciousness.

title: Character Backstory (tragedy, paranormal)

question: Who are the major characters in the story?

answer: The narrator, his brother Rend, and the fiend woman.

question: Why do the brother's car crash?

answer: Their mother falls asleep at the wheel.

question: Why does Rend die in the end despite the fiend bringing him back to life?

answer: The fiend tricked the narrator. She only said that she can bring him back but didn't say for how long.

question: Why does the narrator make a deal with a fiend?

answer: He thinks life isn't worth living without his brother.

question: Why does the narrator go with the fiend despite thinking life isn't worth living without his brother?

answer: He's a kid and probably didn't think that much.

question: What kind of deal does the narrator strike with the fiend?

answer: The story doesn't make the terms of the deal explicit. It's implied that the fiend wants to take the narrator's life in exchange for his brother's.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator sits in the back seat of his mother's car, his brother snuggled beside him. He's two years older than his five-year-old brother and can somewhat understand the struggle his mother is going through. Their car crashes when his mother falls asleep at the wheel, and he loses both his mother and brother. He notices a fiend, who offers to bring his brother back, implying that she'd take his life for his brother's. However, this is a trick, and after she takes the narrator, who goes blind, his brother dies again.


text:
   "Shut the fuck up, lets roll!"

   "Wut!?"

   "Step away from the crack pipe I mean my drums or we'll be late, dipshit!"

   "Oh yeah..."

...

   Bael was the last bicycle allowed across the bridge.  The officer crossed the roadway after Bael passed and said to Rael,

   "Pedestrians aren't allowed on the bridge as the cruiser passes under."

   "But that's my brother there that you let cross ahead of me."  It was nearly a hundred yards before Bael realized Rael wasn't following.  He stopped and noticed the officer had crossed the roadway to talk with Rael, then eventually let her pass. As she rode closer she shouted, "We can't be on the bridge when the boat passes."  Bael didn't think that they would get such a surreal view of a Navy ship steaming up the Willamette.  He thought it was strange to see a military ship. This was new for him, Bael hadn't lived in a Port city before. For the rest of the ride he thought of what it would look like to see war at home. Then snapped out of it and gave thanks to his great friends for hauling his heavy instrument around.

   Rael usually stood in the center of the room whenever and where ever Bael's band played.  She stood in the center of the room at any show. In fact, she just liked being in the center of rooms. At first it was of an OCD nature, where she had to be in the center of the room for some geometrical reason that even she hardly understood.  As she grew out of her minor obsessive compulsive tendencies and listened to more live music she found that the center of the room usually sounded the best in her opinion.  Occasionally there was an incompetent sound engineer running the sound system.  Rael being somewhat obsessive compulsive, and controlling would have to ask if the engineer would lower or raise the sound of an instrument, or adjust the high or low frequency levels.  Rael was kind of weirded out by this particular peculiar sound engineer.  He had a strange way of staring at her, and when she first noticed, he looked away suddenly then back in her direction but not directly at her as if he hadn't been staring at all.  This had been going on since she arrived. He was always staring at her if she looked in his direction.

   "Bael, tell the sound guy to cut some of the lows when you guys play, it sounds like shit. I would but he's fucking weird." The music was loud and Rael had to lean close to her brothers ear.

   "Haa!" She just stared at him and Bael realized she was serious, he nodded once. "...ok." He said to himself.  Bael went straight to the engineer and without thinking twice leaned in and said.

   "You see my girl over there?" Rael was watching confused, angered and embarrassed as her brother pointed her out.  The engineer sat up straight and stared emotionless at Rael. "She asked me to ask you if you're down to fuck. :D  We like you, oh and when my band plays next could you turn down the low frequencies a little?" The engineer turned to Bael with his brow scrunched, confusion and excitement and skepticism wrinkled throughout his face.

   "Uh what? ...yeah, I mean, really? I can turn down the lows sure... uh are you fucking with me? what, a threesome?"

   "Thanks, man.  Yeah a threesome, dude.  You look fun, at least have a drink with us?" The engineer pondered the proposition for nearly a minute, laughing to himself while staring at Rael who was still watching.

   "Fuck you, I don't believe you. You're fucking with me." He turned towards Rael and laughed, then back towards the sound board. "Nice try."

   "Sorry, man just messing around, didn't mean to offend you or anything, thanks for running the sound." The engineer nodded and looked back at the stage as Bael turned and walked back to his curious sister.

   "What the fuck did you say to him, dipshit?"

   "Just told him I was your manager and you do private dances, wanna make some money tonight?"

   "I'll fucking stab you!" She lunged at him and started punching his chest and stomach.

   "Whoa, don't worry lil' sis he doesn't have the cash!" He said while deflecting fists.

   "You're band is like a bunch of amateurs compared to them."  She gestured towards the stage and  Bael laughed.  He didn't care if it was true, this band was killing it.

title: Fucking Rockstars.

question: Who are Bael and Rael?

answer: They are brother and sister.

question: Where are they going on their bicycles?

answer: They are going to a bar where Bael's band is going to play.

question: What happens when they arrive at their destination?

answer: Rael notices the sound engineer staring at her. Normally, she would tell the sound engineer what sounds need adjusting. She felt creeped out by the guy, so she told her brother to talk to him instead.

question: What does Bael do?

answer: Bael talks to the sound engineer. He indicates that Rael is interested in having sex with him. The sound guy realizes Bael is joking. Rael gets irritated with her brother.

question: Write a ~8 sentence summary.

answer: Bael and Rael are brother and sister. They're riding their bikes to a bar where Bael's band is going to play. When they arrive, Rael notices the sound engineer staring at her. Normally, she would tell the sound engineer what sounds need adjusting, but she felt creeped out by the guy, so she told her brother to talk to him instead. Bael talks to the sound engineer. He indicates that Rael is interested in having sex with him. The sound guy realizes Bael is joking. Rael gets irritated with her brother.


text:
IG says there was no blasphemous content before his murder, 'lots of activity appeared on social media' afterwards

[]

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

 Inspector General Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa on Monday said there was no evidence to suggest Mardan university student who was beaten to death on campus committed blasphemy.
"There was no blasphemous content uploaded on Mashal Khan's social media pages prior to his lynching," K-P IG Salahuddin Khan Mehsud said while addressing media.

He added there's no concrete evidence, the university student who was beaten to death on campus over blasphemy allegations had committed blasphemy.  The IG also said that another student Abdullah had recorded his statement before the police. "A friend has denied that he and Mashal Khan uploaded any blasphemous content on social media," Mehsud said.

'IMAM REFUSED TO LEAD MASHAL KHAN'S LAST RITES'

Police announced Monday they had arrested 22 people after the lynching of a university student accused of blasphemy, but observers said there was little hope authorities would secure convictions.

A large mob attacked journalism student Mashal Khan last Thursday, stripping, beating and shooting him before throwing from the second floor of his hostel at the Abdul Wali Khan university in the conservative northwestern town of Mardan.

The brutality of the attack, recorded on a mobile phone camera, shocked the public and led to widespread condemnation, including from prominent clerics. Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif vowed to prosecute the perpetrators as protests broke out in several cities.

Mehsud said the number of people arrested in connection with the case had risen to 22, from 12 at the weekend. They were mainly students but also included some university clerical workers.

He said police had so far found no evidence to support the blasphemy allegations against Khan, and condemned the university for investigating the case without police involvement. A second senior police officer, who requested anonymity, said many members of the police, prosecution service and judiciary sympathised with the attackers and he did not expect any guilty verdicts.

Blasphemy is a hugely sensitive charge in Pakistan, and can carry the death penalty. Even unproven allegations can prompt mob lynchings or lesser violence.

FAKE PROFILE STATUSES GO VIRAL ON FACEBOOK IN K-P AFTER MASHAL KHAN MURDER

"There are hundreds of sympathisers in my force and if I take too much interest in the case I might be killed too," the police officer said.

He added that although arrests had been made on the basis of CCTV footage and video clips, a court would require witnesses to come forward and past experience had shown this would not be likely -- partly because Pakistan has no witness protection programmes.

Saroop Ijaz, a lawyer employed by  Human Rights Watch in Pakistan, noted that no Muslims were convicted for torching 100 Christian homes in a 2013 incident in Lahore sparked by blasphemy claims, nor for the murder of a young Christian couple a year later. "Nobody is going to stick their neck out because you will be abandoned," he said.

Vigilantes have murdered 65 people over blasphemy allegations since 1990, according to research compiled by the Center for Research and Security Studies think-tank.

question: Who was lynched?

answer: A university student.

question: What was the student accused of?

answer: Blasphemy.

question: How many people were arrested?

answer: 22.

question: How many people have been murdered by vigilantes for blasphemy since 1990?

answer: 65.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The article is about a case of a lynching that occurred on a university campus. The investigation arrested 22 students for killing another student accused of blasphemy.