text:
    During life people are called many things, some good, some bad. Within a short eight years I’ve been called; a student, worker, son, good listener, hero, savior, and many more. Since I was ten I’ve been talking people out of suicide online. During my eight years of helping people, I’ve helped many people, created an online organization, and learned many new things. This has forever and will constantly change my life.

    Many people ask me, how did this happen? How does a ten year old get mixed up with people’s lives? It was three days after my tenth birthday, the smell of my moms homemade cake was still tangible in the air. I logged onto the computer and found a chat room. I came across a man inside the room. He was talking about ending his life because his wife was cheating on him and getting his kids. My heart was in my ears beating hard, my palms were clammy and wet like a river. I talked with him till late in the night past any ten year olds bed time. This man was set and ready to die, a mere child stopped him. Me.

    A few months after helping the man, I met a girl my age who was rather interested in the “work” I did. She wanted to be part of the action. Lillie and I decided to work together helping people we would find in chat rooms. This continued for about a year. Lillie started to struggle with herself, the constant pressure of someone’s life in your hands at that young of an age takes a heavy toll upon the beholder. Lillie messaged me one night, “Dominic I have a problem” I asked her what it was and she stated, she wanted to die. She couldn’t take helping people anymore. I remember crying, panicking, wanting her to see it my way and not do what she was planning. It all ended so fast only three words remained “Lillie Signed Off.”

    Three years have passed since Lillie’s death, I created an online organization, filled with teens helping people out of dark thoughts. I created this organization in memory of Lillie. DarkShadows. DarkShadows, was constructed of teens from around the world, looking for people with suicidal thoughts that wanted to help prevent suicide. One hundred and ninety-seven teens joined DarkShadows. Each night we would have meetings and we would talk with one another to see if everyone was ok. I learned that this “job” is to hard for one child to take on alone day in and day out, there needs to be an escape route. DarkShadows showed some amazing results, the teens in DarkShadows were able to talk to five hundred plus people out of suicide. With every construction there is a destruction.

    I had a hard time destroying DarkShadows for I was proud of it. I closed down DarkShadows because the stress was enormous, two people were talking people into suicide, three people committed suicide from the pressure, and people started to not care. DarkShadows lasted three years and I was shocked that I could uphold it for so long, but I knew it had to go. I will never forget what I’ve learned from these past experiences.

    I’ve learned, many things over the past few years. I’ve learned that even though the world seems to burn like a raging fireball, there are many people out there still that care for others. I’ve learned that it doesn’t take a hero to save someone, you don’t need a utility belt, powers, cape, gadgets, or a “cool” name to save someone. All you need is a heart, and the will power, and the determination. Everyone is a hero in a way, you’re a hero to your kid, give someone some change for the bus, do something that is not expected from you. You are a hero.

    My life has changed drastically due to this “job”. I have become a better listener, I became mature, I met new people. I think back from when I was ten, I would have never imagined that helping that one guy would take me this far. I feel that due to this, I have a good understanding of people. I can “read” them easier. At times I have thought is it worth it? Is it worth spending hours upon hours helping someone that I don’t even know? When you help someone the end result of them being alive thanks to you is by far the best feeling you can think of. My life will never be the same due to this and for that I am grateful.

    During my short life span I’ve been a lot of things and experienced even more things. Do these names and experiences define me? Or simply give a better understanding of me? By helping one man live through the loss of his wife and kids. I met a great friend that I hold dear in my heart. I became a leader, making tough decisions for a lot of people. I learned, people still care for one another in this world. This has ultimately affected, and effected my life forever and I will never forget it. To be a Hero, you don’t need a cape or a utility belt, just a heart.

title: To Be A Hero You Need A Heart (True Story)

question: What would have happened if Lillie did not kill herself?

answer: Dominic owns and runs DarkShadows, a global organization that tries to help people in need as well as prevent suicide. If Lillie did not kill herself and was still part of his life, Dominic would have never created DarkShadows.

critique: The answer is a bit speculative. It is possible that Dominic would have started the group even if Lillie did not kill herself.

critique: "Dominic owns and runs DarkShadows, a global organization that tries to help people in need as well as prevent suicide. If Lillie did not kill herself and was still part of his life, Dominic would have never created DarkShadows." - this is incorrect. Dominic created DarkShadows because he was inspired by Lillie's death.

critique: Dominic created DarkShadows in memory of Lillie.


split: train

text:
[sidney lumet essentials-feature-retrospective]

_It has been a year since Sidney Lumet passed away on April 9, 2011. Here is our retrospective on the legendary filmmaker to honor his memory. Originally published April 15, 2011._

Almost a week after the fact, we, like everyone that loves film, are still mourning the passing of the great American master Sidney Lumet, one of the true titans of cinema.

Lumet was never fancy. He never needed to be, as a master of blocking, economic camera movements and framing that empowered the emotion and or exact punctuation of a particular scene. First and foremost, as you’ve likely heard ad nauseum — but hell, it’s true — Lumet was a storyteller, and one that preferred his beloved New York to soundstages (though let’s not romanticize it too much, he _did_ his fair share of work on studio film sets too as most TV journeyman and early studio filmmakers did).

His directing career stretched well over 50 years, from theater and live television to embracing digital video with his final film, 2007’s outstanding “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead.” Across that time, Lumet was nominated for five Oscars including four for directing (“12 Angry Men,” “Dog Day Afternoon,” “Network,” “The Verdict”) and one for adapted screenwriting (“Prince of the City”), but astonishingly, never won. Although he was given a Honorary Academy Award in 2005, as Spike Lee (the influence on whom from Lumet can be felt in every picture) tweeted on hearing the news, “Sidney was Nominated 5 Times for Best Director and was ROBBED. Eventually he got an Oscar for Lifetime Achievement. They always do that Shit.”

We’re not going to sugarcoat it — not every film was a stone-cold classic. There are bad films on this list, and even worse ones that we couldn’t bear ourselves to write about — the nadir being a Rebecca DeMornay/Don Johnson potboiler, “Guilty As Sin.” But Lumet was a pragmatist, as he wrote in his 1995 book “Making Movies” (a _must-read_ for anyone who’s serious about directing film), “I’ve done two movies because I needed the money. I’ve done three because I love to work and couldn’t wait anymore. Because I’m a professional, I worked as hard on those movies as on any I’ve done.” And, across his career, the good far, far outweighs the bad, and he got to go out on top with the gripping 2007 picture, “Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead” which seemed to demonstrate every trait that cinephiles loved about Lumet’s steady and mature hand.

Over and above anything else, Lumet loved film, dedicating his erudite, moving Oscar acceptance speech to his peers and the medium, saying “I’d like to thank the movies. I know that sounds general, but it’s very real to me. I’ve got the best job, in the best profession in the world, and I just want to thank all of it.” As Martin Scorsese put it with Lumet’s passing comes, “an end of an era.” He will be immensely missed, but his venerable body of work will endure.

Below, The Playlist team have assembled a selection from that titanic career. With close to 100 screen directing credits, when including his vast body of TV work, it feels like we’ve barely scratched the surface — but, while we happily could have spent months on this, time and space didn’t allow it. Hopefully, we’ve managed to cover the most significant pictures. And what better way to pay tribute to the man than by sitting down with one over the weekend?

[]“12 Angry Men” (1957)
It’s a start that few directors have had: after a half-decade or so directing TV, Lumet got his chance at a full-length feature film and turned in a classic. A gripping, brilliant human drama that espouses the highest of ideals, “12 Angry Men” also set out the stall for many of Lumet’s recurring preoccupations: guilt, innocence, prejudice, liberalism, the justice system, and the role of the individual. The staginess of the film’s main setting (it featured prominently in our feature about single location films), its roots as a teleplay and the fact that, well, it’s about 12 men arguing with no car chases, no gangsters and no sex to liven things up, add up to a film that on paper has all the ingredients of an unappetizing, if possibly nourishing, meal. Instead it’s a banquet of masterful performances (particularly from Henry Fonda, who, notoriously self-critical, believed it one of his three best), taut, smart screenwriting and razor-sharp editing, displaying a master’s grasp of pacing. While some of the details of the plot are a little outdated now, that hardly detracts from the keenly observed mechanics of power, persuasion and manipulation on display. But what’s perhaps most surprising about such a smart film, is that it never mistakes cynicism for intelligence. Its ultimate conclusions — that ideals are worth fighting for, that one man can make a difference and that even the worst of people can be gently prodded towards decency — are quietly devastating in their humanism and positivity, but are entirely earned and entirely the opposite of trite. “12 Angry Men” is everything a thinking person’s film should be, and only the first example of the kind of intelligent, restrained, grown-up filmmaking that Lumet would go on to bring us many more times over his long career. In the whispered words of Fonda himself at a screening of an early cut, “Sidney, it’s magnificent.” [A]

[]“The Fugitive Kind” (1960)
Since it’s the only SIDNEY LUMET film on the CRITERION COLLECTION and it stars the great Marlon Brando, it must be his best film, right? While semi-compelling and well-acted on the themes of loneliness and human misconnection, mmm, not quite. Based on Tennessee Williams’ 1957 play “Orpheus Descending” (he co-wrote the screenplay with Meade Roberts), this Southern Gothic tale centers on a snakeskin jacket-wearing drifter/musician (Brando) who finds trouble when he wanders into a nameless Mississippi town. And like a few of Williams’ lesser film adaptations there’s lots of sweaty passion, unrequited desires and tempestuous melodrama, but the narratives tend to get a little rudderless. Brando’s thrown in jail early on and tries to get out of this two-bit town, but soon becomes involved with two different sorts of helpless women; the alcoholic wild child (Joanne Woodward) and the embittered wife of a dying shoe salesman who he eventually starts to work for (Anna Magnani). Both of these women provide their conflicts, but only the latter feels integral to the story. As critic JONATHAN ROSENBAUM observed, Lumet feels out of his East Coast element in this picture and despite the ace credentials of the principals, this disappointing effort doesn’t ever really gel. [C+]

question: For what is Sidney Lumet remembered?

answer: Sidney Lumet is remembered as a legendary American filmmaking.

critique: "The Fugitive Kind" (1960) is listed as a Lumet film.

critique: "Sidney Lumet is remembered as a legendary American filmmaking." - is not a complete sentence and needs to be changed.

critique: He's remembered for his story-telling, not just his filmmaking.

critique: The answer should include more details of his legendary career as a filmmaker.

critique: The answer should mention Lumet's directing career.

critique: It is omitted that he is also remembered as a master of blocking, economic camera movements, and framing.

critique: The answer should mention Lumet's death.

critique: I replaced the first comma with a period.

critique: Same answer I gave after inspecting the passage, but I am not sure whether I am right. There is need for some revision.

critique: The answer should mention Lumet's career.

critique: The attributive use of "American" is unnecessary.

question: What was the cause of Lumet's death?

answer: According to an interview with Manhattan district attorney Robert Morgenthau, Lumet died from a stroke he incurred from a series of minor seizures, from which he was being treated. He was 85 years old when he passed away.

critique: This is not the cause of Lumet's death, but information about his death.

critique: This is not a direct quote from Morgenthau.

critique: Incorrect. The cause of Lumet's death is not mentioned.

critique: The article says only that Lumet most likely died of a stroke while the cause of the stroke is not stated.

critique: The last sentence is irrelevant to the question.

critique: This is not in the text and does not answer the question.

critique: This is inaccurate. According to the article, Lumet died of a heart attack.

critique: There is no evidence Lumet was being treated for seizures.

critique: The answer doesn't explain how Lumet died.

critique: The cause of death is not mentioned in the article.


text:
For several years now, Sherayzen Law Office has been warning U.S. taxpayers about the ever-increasing IRS interest in undeclared accounts in Singapore. On June 22, 2016, the IRS announced that UBS AG has complied with the IRS summons for bank records held in its Singapore office. This news come after repeated initiatives by the IRS to follow the money that was flowing out of what used to be secret Swiss bank accounts into the undeclared accounts in Singapore.

Facts Surrounding the IRS Summons Regarding UBS Undeclared Accounts in Singapore

The IRS served an administrative summons on UBS for records pertaining to accounts held by Ching-Ye “Henry” Hsiaw. According to the petition, the IRS needed the records in order to determine Hsiaw’s federal income tax liabilities for the years 2006 through 2011. Hsiaw transferred funds from a Switzerland-based account with UBS to the UBS Singapore branch in 2002, according to the declaration of a revenue agent filed at the same time as the petition. UBS refused to produce the records, and the United States filed its petition to enforce the summons.

“The Department of Justice and the IRS are committed to making sure that offshore tax evasion is detected and dealt with appropriately,” said Acting Assistant Attorney General Caroline D. Ciraolo of the Tax Division. “One critical component of that effort is making sure that the IRS has all of the information it needs to audit taxpayers with offshore assets. In this case, we filed a petition to enforce a summons for offshore documents, but that’s only one of the tools we have available for gathering information. Taxpayers with offshore assets who underreported their income should come forward before we come looking for them.”

Lessons to be Learned from the Recent Summons of UBS Undeclared Accounts in Singapore

The recent IRS summons of UBS undeclared accounts in Singapore and the startling ease with which the IRS obtained the necessary information, confirm three earlier predictions that Sherayzen Law Office made after the announcing of the DOJ Program for Swiss Banks. First, the IRS takes a keen interest in the undeclared accounts in Singapore and it will not satisfy itself simply with destroying the Swiss bank secrecy laws with respect to U.S. taxpayers. The IRS is actively expanding its investigations beyond Switzerland and Singapore is definitely one of its top targets.

Second, the IRS will continue to utilize in its investigations the information that it obtained from the Swiss Bank Program, the IRS offshore voluntary disclosure programs and the IRS compliance procedures. The IRS has obtained mountains of information from these programs regarding not only the “favorite” countries for opening and maintaining undeclared accounts, but also the main patterns of U.S. tax noncompliance. In fact, the IRS now has evidence at its disposal to prosecute foreign banks far beyond Switzerland (a fact confirmed by recent criminal prosecutions of two Cayman Islands financial institutions). Hence, the undeclared accounts in Singapore and the foreign banks which are holding them are under increased IRS scrutiny today.

Finally, the implementation of FATCA combined with the two trends described above makes the discovery of undeclared accounts in Singapore (and most other countries) increasingly likely. Furthermore, it seems that the IRS also feels more and more confident to ask the courts for harsher penalties against noncomplying U.S. taxpayers.

What Should U.S. Taxpayers with Undeclared Accounts in Singapore Do?

U.S. taxpayers with undeclared accounts in Singapore now face a very unpleasant scenario where their discovery by the IRS can occur at any point with the imposition of draconian penalties and even potential prison time. Furthermore, it appears that such a discovery by the IRS is not only possible, but very likely.

Given the high probability of the discovery of their undeclared accounts in Singapore, the noncompliant U.S. taxpayers should retain as soon as possible an experienced international tax firm to explore their voluntary disclosure options. One of the best international tax law firms that provides these services is Sherayzen Law Office, Ltd.

Contact Sherayzen Law Office for Professional Help with Your Undeclared Accounts in Singapore

If you have undeclared accounts in Singapore (or any other country), you should immediately contact Sherayzen Law Office for professional help. Sherayzen Law Office is an international tax law firm that is highly experienced in offshore voluntary disclosures, including IRS Offshore Voluntary Disclosure Program and Streamlined Compliance Procedures (both Domestic and Foreign). You can rely on us with confidence that your case will be handled in an efficient, speedy and professional manner. We will strive for the best result for you!

CONTACT US TODAY TO SCHEDULE YOUR CONFIDENTIAL CONSULTATION!

question: What does the text say about people with undeclared bank accounts in Singapore?

answer: Sherayzen Law Office has been warning U.S. taxpayers about the ever-increasing IRS interest in undeclared accounts in Singapore for years. The IRS is investigating UBS AG for accounts held by Ching-Ye Hsiaw for past tax liabilities. The consequences for non-compliance are predicted to be very unfavorable. While tax non-compliance generally carries harsh penalties, penalties for failure to declare offshore accounts are expected to exceed anything seen in the past because of the systemic crackdown on Swiss bank accounts. People could be prosecuted in multiple countries and spend years in prison. U.S. citizens with undeclared bank accounts in Singapore or elsewhere are encouraged to contact an international tax law firm.

critique: This is backwards. The U.S. is investigating foreign accounts. The consequences are unpleasant not favorable.

critique: The answer should mention that there are voluntary disclosure programs.

critique: The response mentions that the consequences for non-compliance will be very unfavorable, which is not stated in the text. The model should consider removing this from the response.

critique: "While tax non-compliance generally carries harsh penalties, penalties for failure to declare offshore accounts are expected to exceed anything seen in the past because of the systemic crackdown on Swiss bank accounts. People could be prosecuted in multiple countries and spend years in prison." - this is irrelevant and should be removed.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

text: Mentioning the Swiss bank accounts is irrelevant to the question and should be omitted.

category: coherence

refinement: Sherayzen Law Office has been warning U.S. taxpayers about the ever-increasing IRS interest in undeclared accounts in Singapore for years. The IRS is investigating UBS AG for accounts held by Ching-Ye Hsiaw for past tax liabilities. The consequences for non-compliance are predicted to be very unfavorable. While tax non-compliance generally carries harsh penalties, penalties for failure to declare offshore accounts are expected to exceed anything seen in the past because of the systemic crackdown on Swiss bank accounts. People could be prosecuted in multiple countries and spend years in prison. U.S. citizens with undeclared bank accounts in Singapore or elsewhere are encouraged to contact an international tax law firm.

question: What does the text say about Sherayzen Law Office?

answer: The law firm Sherayzen Law Office has been warning U.S. taxpayers about the IRS's interest in undeclared UBS accounts in Singapore for some years now. They have even made several predictions about the progress of this investigation and suggest that the latest development confirms three predictions they made previously. A key component of Sherayzen's strategy is that they provide professional help with undeclared accounts in Singapore (and elsewhere) and will strive for the best result for the client.

critique: The article doesn't state that they have made predictions about the progress of the investigation.

critique: The answer should mention that Sherayzen Law Office is an international tax law firm.

critique: The firm's strategy of recommending the best way for the client isn't a major point of the article, just that they provide it

critique: The text does not say that Sherayzen Law Office is an international tax law firm.

critique: The answer should mention that the law firm is based in Singapore.


text:
MICHAEL MANDIBERG (born December 22, 1977) is an American artist, programmer, designer and educator.

Mandiberg's works have been exhibited at venues including; the New Museum for Contemporary Art located in New York City, transmediale Festival[1] in Berlin, Center for Art and Media Karlsruhe (ZKM)[2] in Karlsruhe, Germany, and Ars Electronica Center located in Linz, Austria. Mandiberg's work has also been featured in books like _Tribe_ and Jana's _New Media Art_, Greene's _Internet Art_, and Blais and Ippolito's _At the Edge of Art_.[3] Mandiberg has been written about in _The New York Times_, _Los Angeles Times_, the _Berliner Zeitung_, and _Wired_.

Career

thumb|left|thumbtime=00:08|Print Wikipedia

Mandiberg is a Professor of Media Culture at the College of Staten Island[4] and a Fellow at Eyebeam in New York City.

Mandiberg is the author of _Digital Foundations_, a book which teaches the Bauhaus Basic Course through design software. This work received praise from esteemed creatives such as Ellen Lupton and C.E.B. Reas.[5] Mandiberg is a writer for Digital Foundations and Anti-Advertising Agency blogs. Mandiberg lives in, and bicycles around, Brooklyn.

Mandiberg founded New York Arts Practicum, “a summer arts institute where participants experientially learn to bridge their lives as art students into lives as artists in the world.”[6] Mandiberg also convened the event Experiments in Extra-Institutional Education at City University of New York on April 11, 2013 [7] which led to a special issue of the academic journal Social Text[8] and a yearlong seminar on similar topics co-organized with Carla Herrera-Prats, Cynthia Lawson Jaramillo, and Jennifer Stoops.[9]

Notable works

[Print Wikipedia]

-   Shop Mandiberg was an Internet art piece from 2001 in which Michael Mandiberg offered every last thing Mandiberg owned for sale on the Shop Mandiberg site. From clothing to half used tubes of toothpaste. By the time the store was closed, Mandiberg had sold over 100 items.[10]
-   AfterSherrieLevine.com and AfterWalkerEvans.com which Mandiberg scanned and posted online the photos that Sherrie Levine rephotographed of Walker Evans.[11] A self described “one-liner art prank”[12] given more recursion by placing the work online so it can be printed out, thus creating another reproduction. Another artist Bujar Bala, downloaded scanned photos from AfterWalkerEvans.com and uploaded them on jalbum.net creating an online photo album named _After Michael Mandiberg_. Mandiberg lately continued the reproduction process by creating an Instagram After Michael Mandiberg account and published filtered and reproduced images on Instagram.[13]
-   Oil Standard – commissioned by Turbulence.org[14] is a Firefox plugin that replaces prices on e-commerce websites with the equivalent cost in barrels of crude oil.[15]
-   Print Wikipedia – A visualization of how big Wikipedia is. Includes “spine wallpaper” of 2000 out of 7500 volumes and selected volumes printed out. Entire pdfs for Wikipedia volumes uploaded and available for printing as volumes.[16]

Personal life

Mandiberg prefers gender neutral pronouns, though on occasion selected publications such as the Paris Review (which in one instance bracketed “[He]”) have employed them nevertheless.[17][18][19]

Publications

-   Michael Mandiberg (Editor), _The Social Media Reader_, New York University Press 2012
-   xtine burrough and Michael Mandiberg, _Digital Foundations: An Intro to Media Design with the Adobe Creative Suite_, New Riders/AIGA Design Press 2008[20]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7] Center for the Humanities website

[8]

[9] Extra Institutional Education seminar website

[10] Von Tilman Baumgärtel “Der Ausverkauf des Selbsts” Berliner Zeitung, 05 February 2001

[11] Suzanne Muchnic “A cut-and-paste festival”Los Angeles Times, 26 October 2003

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15] Dan Mitchell Google Finance: A Portal Play?, _The New York Times_, March 26, 2006

[16]

[17] http://www.artandfeminism.org/#people

[18] https://www.instagram.com/mmandiberg/

[19] https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/on-the-shelf/page/85/

[20]

title: Michael Mandiberg

question: What does the article say about Mandiberg's art style?

answer: No answer

critique: The article does not mention Mandiberg's art style.

critique: The article does not explicitly say anything about Mandiberg's art style.

question: What does the article say about Sandy Mandiberg (a.k.a. Sandy Mandy)?

answer: No answer

critique: The article does not mention anything about Sandy Mandiberg.

critique: It is omitted that Michael Mandiberg is an American artist, programmer, designer, and educator.

critique: The article doesn't mention anything about Sandy Mandiberg.


text:
I stopped pacing back and forth and stared at my wrist. The band of my watch was tattered and the color was fading. I had worn it for a couple of years now and it was starting to show its age. I held it up to my nose and took a whiff. It was starting to smell. It was an odd combination of old sweat and grime.
 “I really hope nobody catches a whiff of my watch,” I muttered to myself. I don’t know why anyone would be smelling my watch, but in the event that they do - they would almost certainly be disgusted.
After returning to my pacing, I realized I hadn’t actually processed what time it was despite staring at my watch for quite a while. I checked again. 12:35. I had arrived downtown early for my haircut. My appointment was at 1:00, and 25 minutes wasn’t long enough to justify going back home, but was too long to spend sitting in the barbershop.
Gazing around, I saw a coffee shop on the corner of the block. It was a quaint place that I had visited once or twice, but not too often. Everyone in there was so young and attractive and hip, and I always felt out of place - like I was purchasing coffee from a party that I wasn’t invited to join.
“Whatever, I need to kill some time,” I thought to myself. I pulled on the handle of the shop and stepped inside.
There was only one person in front of me in line. He was young, a bit swarthy, and seemed up to date on this strange punk rock coffee subculture.
“Nice shirt,” the girl working the counter said to him. It was a black tee shirt with some white squiggly lines on it, like some sort of radio waves. I didn’t understand it, but she did, I guess.   “Thanks,” he casually replied. The young man finished up his order and went through the doorway towards the cafe’s seating area.
“What can I get ya?” The barista asked. I realized I hadn’t considered an order, and now felt like I needed to make a decision in a pinch. I blurted out the only order that came to mind.
“One small coffee to go, please.”
“Any room for cream?” The girl asked.
“No, I take it black.” I responded, trying to sound suave. I didn't.

I paid for the coffee and she handed it to me. I looked around the cafe. “Why did I ask for my coffee to go?” I thought to myself. I didn't have anywhere to go for half an hour. Should I apologize before I sit down? She probably doesn't consider me a liar, but maybe I should just give some sort of explanation. I tried to think of something to say.

“Hey, I just wanted you to know that I rushed my order a bit and ordered it to go, but I think I have enough time to just drink it here so I want to do that. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

That sounds stupid. I’m not going to say that. I make my way through the doorway towards the back of the cafe. Many of the seats are occupied, save for one in the back corner besides a young lady.
“Aw man,” I thought to myself. “If I sit beside this girl, she’ll think I’m a creep, just trying to mozie up beside her.”
Maybe she won’t think I’m a creep. I mean, it is the only place to sit. I could always stand, but that might actually be weirder. Maybe I should just brief her on the situation.

“Hey, I just want you to know that I’m only sitting beside you because there is nowhere else to sit. I would never sit beside you otherwise. I’m not some sort of creep.”

Wait, someone’s leaving. I’ll just sit there instead.

I take my seat on the wooden bench and place my coffee on the table. Beside me is swarthy guy, reading a book. His hand is covering up part of the front cover, so I can’t make out the title. I tilt my head and squint my eyes to get a closer look. He glances over at me, and I look away. I could always just ask what he’s reading, but why do I even care? What this guy is reading has no impact on my life in any way.

“I like your shirt,” the girl across from swarthy reading man says to him. He calmly looks up from his book, thanks her, and returns to his reading, taking a sip of his drink in the process.
I let my mind wander for a bit. I fixate on artwork on the walls, trying to determine if they have some sort of underlying meaning. A topless woman dancing in a ritualistic manner is depicted on the canvas in front of me. What could it mean? I don’t know. I don’t understand art. In the corner of the room is a bulletin board with flyers for concerts, workshops, and other events piled on top of one another. I look at one flyer in particular. “Make Your Own Gluten Free Dog Food!” The flyer suggests. I try to read the text underneath but I'm left with more questions than answers.
 I take a sip of my coffee and immediately my lips pucker. It’s much more bitter than I remember. Maybe I should go ask for some cream. The barista knows I asked for it black, though. I specifically said “I drink my coffee black.” Whatever, she already thinks I’m a liar who has no intentions of drinking his coffee in any way that it is ordered. I’ll just get the damn cream.

I look at my watch again. It’s 1:05.
I drop my coffee in the trash can and walk home.

title: [RF][HM] Anxiety - A Piece Of Flash Fiction

question: What does the story say about the brand of the watch the narrator was wearing?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer is wrong. The narrator says that the watch is starting to show its age.

critique: The answer is only partly correct as the story did not mention a brand of the wristwatch.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The narrator mentions that the band of his watch is tattered and the color is fading.

critique: The answer is not relevant to the story.

critique: The story does not mention the brand of the watch the narrator was wearing.

critique: No answer can be given because the narrator does not remember the brand.

critique: "No answer" is not a sufficient answer to the question.

critique: The narrator wears a watch that is starting to show its age and is starting to smell.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The narrator's watch was a cheap brand.

question: What does the story say about the narrator?

answer: The narrator is a man going for a haircut in a barber shop. He enters a coffee shop and orders a coffee to kill time, but decides to skip the coffee, thinking he wouldn't be able to drink. He decides to sit next to a lady sitting alone in the corner. Before sitting beside her, he says he wouldn't sit there but had no other place to sit and that he wasn't a creep, to which he apologizes.

critique: The protagonist is not going for a haircut in a barber shop.

critique: The narrator also feels anxious because he's unattractive and feels out of place in the coffee shop.

critique: The response is missing a few details about the narrator's symptoms.

critique: The narrator is not going to a barber shop.

critique: The narrator is not going for a haircut. He was going for a haircut but got there early.

critique: He says all this to the lady before sitting, but the narrator is a man.

critique: The narrator is in several places of anxiety. This sentence should be omitted and replaced with the first thing the narrator does.

critique: The response misses to mention that after ordering a coffee to go and sitting for a while, the narrator realizes he has time to drink it and asks for cream.

critique: "He decides to sit next to a lady sitting alone in the corner. Before sitting beside her, he says he wouldn't sit there but had no other place to sit and that he wasn't a creep, to which he apologizes." - this is inaccurate because the narrator didn't sit beside the lady. He sat beside a guy.

critique: Misses to mention that the narrator is anxious.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's time in the coffee shop?

answer: The narrator seems to have a ghost-like presence in the coffee shop. He has no idea why he is in the shop given that he cannot buy any of their stuff. He has no friends to socialize, he does not speak the lingo of this hip coffee shop. However, he still has about a half an hour to keep himself busy in the shop. He thinks he is too icky to read a book. He tries to look down-to-earth to the staff for not promising to stay and pay, but he is not at all self-trusted.

critique: The reason the narrator is in the coffee shop is given.

critique: The last line does not describe the narrator's time in the coffee shop.

critique: The narrator's time in the coffee shop is not ghost-like

critique: This is all conjecture, not from the text

critique: "The narrator seems to have a ghost-like presence in the coffee shop. He has no idea why he is in the shop given that he cannot buy any of their stuff. He has no friends to socialize, he does not speak the lingo of this hip coffee shop." - extraneous information.

critique: The narrator does not have a ghost-like presence in the coffee shop.

critique: "The narrator seems to have a ghost-like presence in the coffee shop" - there is no evidence to support the effect of the narrator's presence in the coffee shop.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

critique: The elements in the question are not currently arranged in a logical timeline. For example, it's stated "He has no idea why he is in the shop given that he cannot buy any of their stuff" before the icky inference.

critique: The contrasting bits of the narrator's perception of himself as icky and how he doesn't belong in the coffee shop is confusing. The question asks about his time in the coffee shop, not his thoughts on himself.

critique: The narrator doesn't have a ghost-like presence in the coffee shop. He is trying to kill time before his haircut.

text: The answer should mention that the narrator gets lost in his thoughts, suffering from social anxiety, until he winds up missing his appointment altogether.

category: coverage

refinement: The narrator seems to have a ghost-like presence in the coffee shop. He has no idea why he is in the shop given that he cannot buy any of their stuff. He has no friends to socialize, he does not speak the lingo of this hip coffee shop. However, he still has about a half an hour to keep himself busy in the shop. He thinks he is too icky to read a book. He tries to look down-to-earth to the staff for not promising to stay and pay, but he is not at all self-trusted.


text:
Okay, it all started back in '73 I remember like it was yesterday because I just got a cool new hat and had lost it right away.  This friend of a friend calls me up out of the blue sounding like he was sweating his ass off. He needed a favor as he was having trouble erasing some some reel to reel. He trusted me because I helped him with some uhhh, paperwork. Anyway, He was all thankful and said,  "If you needed anything consider it done."

Now I hadn't had a vacation for a while and I always wanted to get rowdy in Europe so he set me up with an all access pass to Vatican city. Now if that sounds boring, it is. but hey, a vacay is a vacay.

I get over there and check the sights do all the touristy stuff, you know. Then it occurs to me to bust out the tequila I picked up at the duty free shop and started taking a few pulls. I *cannot* handle my tequila apparently because I start browning out.

So I stumble around until I ended up in a closet I thought saw one of those "sexy" confessional booths you hear about. Lo and behold, there is one of those goofy-looking orange and blue clown suits and a funny helmet.

After wandering around a little bit trying to walk it off. Though, I'm still taking pulls off that bottle for some reason.  Anytime somebody started to give me the 'ol rigmarole I would flash my pass and they were super nice. A little time passes and I'm in another closet probably for the same reason as the first but this time it's full of cleaning supplies.

Next thing I know, I'm prancing around St. Peter's Square with my broom "halberd" chasing a raccoon! I finally caught it after I smacked it with my near empty bottle. Now, I don't know if you have ever knocked out a small mammal but when you finally do it, you have no idea what to do with the darn thing. So call it divine inspiration but I come up with the craziest prank ever.

I dig through my English to Italian dictionary and pick out some things to say. I then find the dumbest looking youngest Swiss guard I can find and hand him the broomstick now covered in anointing oil and say, "have you seen these new training weapons, they are supposed to help with your pole handling." It's always dark in that place at night so he just takes it right out of my hand without noticing that a drunk guy handed him a broomstick. Of course, he then gets the grease on his hands he then laughs sarcastically like he got pranked and I'm being a jerk.

I pulled my trusty raccoon out of a vestment hamper and put the miter and a white sheet on him like a cape.  When the timing was just right I took the rest of my hooch and spit it in his face to wake the critter up.  I then shouted, "The holy father is possessed by the devil!" right in earshout of the guard. He runs in the room sees the miter and cute little papal cape on the freshly greased raccoon and starts trying to catch him.

Call me lucky, call me unlucky but right at that very moment the *actual* Holy Father walks in.  The guard practically shits himself out of embarrassment as the oily nocturnal creature flies out of his hands.  It lunges teeth snarling at (let's call him P Numero 6 because I don't want to say any names) and wouldn't ya know? It takes his damned ring finger straight off.

They ended up covering the whole thing up because they are used to doing that when they look bad. But I swear, I damn near almost undid the Second Vatican council that night.

They managed to reattach the finger but they could never find the ring. They think the raccoon must have pooped it out. That is what they say anyway. I have a different theory: He absorbed the power of the ring and somehow became consecrated. That raccoon straight up vanished from a locked room.  Normally, I would just think that odd but on some dark nights I hear something rummaging through my trashcans and the distinct sound of Latin chanting.

title: [HM] The Pope's Shit-List

question: Summarize the plot twist in this story.

answer: The narrator is in a closet in the Vatican when he sees a raccoon and thinks it would be a good idea to get a little drunk. He gets a little drunk and then goes to St. Peter's Square and starts chasing the raccoon with a broom. The raccoon is covered in anointing oil and the narrator hands it to a Swiss guard. The guard is then startled when the raccoon starts to attack him. The guard is then embarrassed when the Holy Father walks in and sees the raccoon.

critique: The response misses to mention that the raccoon attacks the guard and takes his ring finger.

critique: The answer omits the part where the raccoon attacks the guard and takes his ring finger.

critique: Incorrect punctuation added to the response.

text: Add the presence of of the Pope.

question: Summarize what happens to the actual Holy Father.

answer: The Holy Father walks in on the prank and the raccoon attacks him. The raccoon bites the Holy Father's finger, which is then reattached, but the ring is never found. The narrator believes the raccoon absorbed the power of the ring and became consecrated. The narrator believes the raccoon vanished from a locked room.

critique: The answer should mention that the Holy Father was possessed by the devil.

critique: The answer should mention that the raccoon is the one who attacks the Holy Father.

critique: The answer should mention that the raccoon is a real animal.

question: Explain what inspired the narrator to commit these acts of debauchery.

answer: He was drunk and wanted to have fun.

critique: The narrator's desire for a vacation and to have fun in Europe is omitted.

question: Summarize what this story has to say about pulling pranks.

answer: The narrator pulls a prank on the Swiss guard by handing him a broomstick covered in anointing oil. The guard thinks it's a joke and laughs. The narrator then says that the Holy Father is possessed by the devil, which causes the guard to run into the room. The narrator then pulls out a raccoon, which they pretend is the Holy Father. The guard then sees the miter and cape on the raccoon and starts trying to catch it.

critique: The response is missing the part where the prankster gets away with the prank.

text: The question implies a moral lesson more than a question of content and so could be better answered by noting that the narrator gets away with the prank.


text:
I am stuck forever between two duelists. I look to my left and I am staring down potentially no-longer-cold steel. To my right is the same except slightly different (which if I may interject puts the man to my right at a slight disadvantage) and slightly less dreadful as my right side is my dominant side. If I look forward or towards where my dorsal fin would sprout if I were born a dolphin it would appear that I am safe, perhaps on a walk –

“Now where am I walking?” I ask myself. Perhaps to fetch a glass of milk from the drug store although I reassure myself that that simply is not possible. I stopped purchasing from that drug store years ago as once they made a snide comment on the apparent matchiness of my scarf and shoe choices. Damn those Shandletons, haven’t they heard of accent colors?! After calming myself down, I entertain the idea that I was walking to the slightly-farther-but-in-the-opposite-direction drug store. The scenery did seem somehow familiar and made it feel like it was a Thursday. Truly a beautiful day for a Thursday. But after walking for a few minutes I come to the conclusion that there is no situation in which I would be walking to the place I previously surmised because I had not yet passed the eldery Wehldün couple. They always are meandering in the opposite direction when I make my visits to the drug store Thursday evenings. Maybe I had run out of milk or limes earlier than I had expected, as I had invited guests over earlier that week. Now that I am busy thinking about other things, I can’t recall if I actually did have guests or if I just dreamt that. Oh, don’t I sound like a lonely bag, dreaming about a party. But it is true, I haven’t had a guest beside family in months. Ah! that’s it! I must be headed to the slightly-farther-but-in-the-opposite-direction drug store to purchase extra milk and limes so I would have enough for the guests I’m going to invite to my house for a party! Brilliant. Truly a brilliant man.

Although I suppose the same would happen if I were to look left or right and simply shut my eyes or cover them with my mittened hands (which I would never do, the feeling of that shaggy wool on my bare, shivering skin upsets me far greater than the fear of death!) however, I know this to be a fact: Whether I am on a pleasant walk, or born a dolphin, or saying No! rapidly with my eyes shut like a vault when a communist asks for a loan I am still afraid. There is still the memory of those two bitter guns to my perimeters. There is still the chance that one of the duelists will finally build the courage not to shoot the other for victory but simply to rest his arm for a while until his next duel.

It must be tiring, you know. Holding that pose for 32 years now. Aiming precariously at my respective temples. And not even muttering a single word of banter! Applaudable, really. I could almost feel bad for the two of them. Then I stop and remember that the two of them are humans and, by the looks of it being about as old as I am, have probably done some nasty things.

For instance, I know for certain that the one to my left is an adulterous wolf. She nearly brags about it every day I see her (I say nearly because she finds ways to make it sound like she is talking about something else and if you weren’t listening with the keenest ears it would slip right over your skull) and she has no intentions of stopping. The husband knows by now I’m sure and probably considers himself too old to find another wife. The man to my right was a gambler and an alcoholic and I think I remember reading in the papers  that he once dabbled in organized crime. Also, he was adulterous. Also, he once hit a baby with his bare fist, although he claims he was falling and reached for something to stop his fall. That poor baby, having to be punched by such an ugly fist… Luckily, that was his left fist and he holds his guns with the right. I would end it myself if I had to stare at that ugly fist all my life. They once knew each other. I once knew both of them.

In a world with milk and limes and parties and drug stores and slightly-farther-but-in-the-opposite-direction drug stores I knew both of them. In that world I was a man of peace and ponderance. I had respect from people I knew, sometimes in strange forms. The passing smiles of the Wehldüns. The inadvertent concern of the Shandletons. My loving mother and my stern father, may he rest in peace. My youthful co-workers. In that world, I was happy. But in that world I was always afraid. I am stuck forever between two duelists.

Now where am I walking?

title: [RF] I am stuck forever between two duelists

question: What makes being stuck between two duelists such a big deal for the narrator?

answer: It is implied that the narrator is afraid of death.

critique: While it's true they are stuck between two duelists, death isn't detailed in the story. Little information is given on that subject.

critique: The narrator is afraid of death, but it's not the only reason why being stuck between two duelists is a big deal.

critique: The response should include more details about the narrator's fear of death.

critique: The narrator is afraid of death, but it's not the only thing that makes him feel stuck between two duelists.


text:
Was bored, wrote this in about an hour. Constructive criticism and general feedback are both appreciated.

---

Lyra stood in the doorway of the dressing room, her hands placed expressively on either hip. She knew that it was time to speak up. She would give the Master one last chance, but she had a feeling that this would be his final show.

“Ah yes, my sweet Lyra. What do you come about for? You've hardly any makeup on yet! Don't you know the show's about to start? Go get...”

“I'm not performing with you tonight.” she said, as firmly as she could.

“Excuse me?” the Master replied, dumbfounded. His mouth hung slightly agape.

“I'm done with the show. I'm not doing it anymore. You're going to have to find a new assistant.”

At this point, she knew there was no retracting her sentiment. She stood in the doorway, grasping the frame with palms of nervous sweat.

“Well, Lyra, I... Frankly I... I don't think you're in any position to make such brash decisions.” His face  glistened with the same sweat of her palms. “You signed the contract, and the contract says...”

“You drugged me, you bastard.” She was beginning to shudder with pent up rage, anger coursing readily through her heated veins. “I couldn't even speak when I signed that thing. You promised me money, fame, love...”

“...But the promises of a madman are as empty as your pretty little head, aren't they darling?” The nervous sweat had vanished from his face, replaced with only the darkest shades of malevolent confidence. The chuckle that followed was far from hearty.

Not once did Lyra move her gaze from his. She knew he would refuse to release her, and now that he had, she cognized the weight that his refusal carried. This brought her some emotional relief. She knew his triumph would be short-lived.

“Now go put on your things, you filthy slut.” He moved his eyes from hers and peered down into his tobacco pipe. A swift light drew out a large plume of smoke, and a few puffs later he returned his stare. “If you're not ready in five, you're in for one hell of a beating.”

She realized that the only viable response was to feign momentary subservience. “Yes master.” she replied, with an eerie calmness to her tone. She had stopped shaking; her anger had subsided. She knew that she had won, but the Master knew not.

As sharp as he was, he found nothing awry with her sudden obedience, and seemed more than pleased that his threats had done their job. “Yes, good girl. Now off with you!” Elements of playfulness pervaded his own tone, underscoring his outright insanity.

Lyra turned on her heel and walked to her dressing room. The door hung slightly open, and she pushed it the rest of the way in with her body. She knew it would be her final visit, so she made a point to gather the few things she truly cared for.

“Hairbrush, mace, lockpicks...” She briefly ran through a mental list of things to keep. When she got to the end, her suitcase was practically overflowing. She paused and thoughtfully gazed at her sandals.

“This is it.” She said to herself. She reached her hand into the hidden compartment of the suitcase and pulled out “the instrument” – a common knife with a single edged blade sharpened to a razor point. The Master seldom allowed her to use utensils when they ate together, but she had managed to garner the knife following the post-meal alcohol daze of his Friday eve meat feast.

The illumination of the red light in the hallway caught her attention as it reflected off of the blade in her hand. The show was starting - it was time to go. Her stature was firm and her goal clear in her mind as she strutted towards the stage, grasping the instrument for dear life.

She heard the roar of the audience as was blinded by the incessant haze of the overhead lights. Everyone had come to see the Master perform his tricks, fooling them as charmingly as he had her on the night that she was signed into servitude.

“And now...” roared his voice, “put your hands together for my lovely assistant... Lyra!”

The audience was familiar with this routine. Every member applauded her entry with great enthusiasm, for the more they expressed, the more bewildering the Masters tricks would be.

As she walked onto the platform, the applause tapered off abruptly, perhaps with the most acute decrescendo of the century. They saw her dressed casually, not as her usual subservient self. Boos began to replace former cheers, and the master felt a fair mix of anger and embarrassment.

He marched over to her while waving at the audience with a 'just a moment' gesture. “What on great mother earth do you fancy you're doing, you little whore? You're ruining the show! I told you to get your act together! And what the bloody hell are you fumbling with!?”

As her arm shot towards his collar, his eyes widened with terror. She plunged the instrument deep into the front of his neck, and it penetrated his adam's apple with ease. To her, it felt as if she were cutting butter.

He managed to let out a few exasperated gurgles before she slid the knife further up the sides of his neck. As it severed his carotid artery, blood spurted from the resulting wounds in a manner that seemed almost cartoonish. It was an unsettling sight, but she relished in the moment like none other, watching his life slowly drain away, his hatred and cruelty being replaced by emptiness and his consciousness slipping deeper into the void of oblivion.

Most of the members of the audience had left in a panicked frenzy. However, one particular man, deluded as he was, came up onto the stage and began to charge at Lyra, thinking her to be some sort of murderer who needed to be brought to proper justice.

She had very little time to finish her task. She looked the Master in his near-vacant eyes one last time as he lay on the polished hardwood floor of the stage, his brain cells rapidly atrophying. “It's all in your eyes, Master.” she whispered. “It's all in your eyes.”

With that, a swift kick to the head did him in. She hastily recovered the Nekraf from his front suit pocket, a device that could teleport the user to any destination of their choosing. Just before the enraged man grabbed the bottom portion of her blouse, she closed her eyes, pressed the prime button, felt a sharp jolt, and vanished into thin air. He stood around confused for a few more moments, looking up, down and every which way, but ultimately concluded that she truly was gone. In a minutes time, no one was left in the house save for the corpse of the accursed Master himself.

His show was no more, his tricks no longer existent. His mind control was nullified, and most of the audience members had recovered their full wits and were flabbergasted as to what they'd just experienced. Many speculated, but none remembered for sure. The Master was a forgotten man, his show a sullen piece, and his evils finally lain to a well-deserved rest.

Lyra awoke on a sunny beach of crystal blue waters, palm trees surrounding her sunken form. She stood up and looked into the distance, eyes set upon a singular tropical cabana.

“Home.” she said to herself, in near disbelief. “I'm finally home.”

She walked on.

title: The Instrument - 1280 words

question: Summarize the importance of the instrument.

answer: Lyra takes the instrument from her own luggage and uses it to kill the Master.

critique: In addition to the killing, the instrument serves to show that the Master is distracted by holding the bag with the contract in it. The contract means Lyra can't back out of her arrangement with the Master and also gives him power over her so the Master is distracted when she takes the knife. Also, the knife she takes if to perform on stage with.

critique: It is omitted that the instrument is a knife.

critique: The answer should mention that the instrument is a knife.

critique: The answer could be clearer in its pronoun use.

question: What does the story say about paradise?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that Lyra wakes up on a beach in paradise.

critique: The answer should mention that Lyra is transported to paradise at the end of the story.

critique: The answer could mention that the story implies that paradise is a place where you can be free from evil.

question: Summarize the context of the contract.

answer: Lyra was drugged and signed a contract with the Master. She was promised money, fame, and love, but the promises were empty.

critique: The answer should mention that the contract was written in a language Lyra couldn't read.

critique: The answer should mention that the contract was a binding one.

critique: The answer should mention that the contract was a binding contract.

critique: The answer should mention that the contract was written in invisible ink.

question: What does the story say about the Master's illusions?

answer: The Master had performed many tricks on his audiences and fooled them into believing his illusions were real. Lyra, his assistant, was one of the people he fooled. He had also deceived Lyra into signing a contract to be his assistant and did not pay her as he had promised. She was drugged and could not speak when she signed the contract.

critique: The response inaccurately mentions that the Master fooled Lyra into believing his illusions were real.

critique: The answer should mention that the Master's tricks are no more after Lyra kills him.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

text: The response should mention that the Master used mind control on the audience and the more they expressed enthusiasm, the more bewildering his tricks are.


text:
[City hall] CAMPOS NOVOS is a city in Santa Catarina, in the Southern Region of Brazil. Campos Novos is a pioneer in production of pollen and the biggest grain and oat producer of Santa Catarina. The municipality invests also into fatstock and poultry farming.

Main ethnic origins are Italian, German, Portuguese, Polonese and Drovers.

History

The Kaingang, an Indigenous people of southern Brazil, were the first inhabitants of the region.

The construction of the railway São Paulo - Rio Grande do Sul and the passages of the cattle drovers in the region mobilized many immigrants. Those migrations caused the creation of many villages at the Rio de Peixe river, like Bom Retiro, Capinzal and Videira. The arrival of the Italian and German settlers induced commercial and industrial activities in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Therefore, the city has a rich cultural diversity. It has even a community of descendants of African slaves.

19th century

[Casa da Cultura, Campos Novos cultural foundation] As many of the municipalities in the region, Campos Novos populated from the first attempts of colonialisation in southern Brazil, which began between 1825 and 1830, as the farmer João Gonçalves de Araújo coming from Curitibanos settled down in the region. Shortly afterwards came the gaúchos evading the Ragamuffin War. Many farmers originating from Lages settled down as well, attracted by the huge quantity of terra and grassland. Then, the locality welcomed inhabitants coming from the states São Paulo and Paraná on the search of territory for cattle breeding.

In 1854, Campos Novos became a district of the municipality of _Nossa Senhora dos prazeres de Lages_, today Lages, with a total area of more than 5 000 km², according to provincial law nº 377, of June 16, 1854. Despite the many partitionings, Campos Novos is still one of the biggest municipality of Santa Catarina regarding the surface area.

From 1869 until 1881, Campos Novos was under control of Curitibanos. Then it became an independent municipality, according to provincial law nº 923, of March 30, 1881. Between 1850 and 1895, the province of Santa Catarina had only 11 municipalities.

20th century

In the beginning of the 20th century, Campos Novos was embossed by the construction of the railway São Paulo - Rio Grande do Sul and by the Contestado War. From 1908 until 1910 many immigrants of various nationions arrived in Campos Novos: Poland, Russia, Lebanon as well as other settlers from other Brazilian states, especially descendants from Germany and Italy after the Contestado War (1912–1916).

Geography

[Central bus station] [Lauro Müller square] Campos Novos is 370 km west of Florianópolis, the capital of Santa Catarina.

It is at the crosspoint of the federal highways BR-470 and BR-282 and the state highways SC-455 and SC-458.

Campos Novos has a central bus station with connections to Curitiba, Joinville, Chapecó and many other cities.

The next airports are in Chapecó (XAP) 155 km, Lages (LAJ) 145 km, Concórdia (SSCK) 95 km, Videira (SSVI) 55 km, Joaçaba (SSJA) 40 km.[1]

The municipality is divided into following 7 districts since 2007:

-   Campos Novos
-   Bela Vista
-   Dal`Pai
-   Espinilho
-   Ibicuí
-   Leão
-   Tupitinga

Economy/industry

[Campos Novos Dam] Campos Novos is the biggest grain producer of Santa Catarina. Many farmers are joined in cooperatives. There are also livestock and poultry farming.

The Occident's highest dam of that type with a height of 202 m (663 ft) is 30 km (20 mi) from the city center. It was built from August 2001 to July 2006 by Enercan.[2] The 3 installed Francis Turbines have a power of 880 megawatts. The Campos Novos Dam produces 3,310,404 MWh per year.

Tourism

[São João Batista church] [stained glass] The museum FUNDAÇÃO CULTURAL CAMPONOVENSE (Campos Novos cultural foundation) better known as CASA DA CULTURA (house of the culture) exposes the historic archive of Dr. Waldemar Rupp and the Testament from 1877, related to the history of the community in the 19th century.

The church SÃO JOÃO BATISTA on the Lauro Müller square is decorated by wooden sculptures and beautiful stained glass.

22 km from the city center is the Ibicui district, better known as Corredeira, where descendants of African slaves live. There is also the cemetery INVERNADA DOS NEGROS.

[1]

[2] Enercan

title: Campos Novos

question: Which key events contributed to the growth of Campos Novos?

answer: The construction of the railway São Paulo - Rio Grande do Sul and the passages of the cattle drovers in the region mobilized many immigrants.

critique: "...immigrants" - are the rest of the settlers mentioned and the fact that it was a mixed-culture which directly impacted the growth of the city.

critique: The answer omits the arrival of Italian and German settlers.

critique: The answer omits the construction of the Campos Novos Dam.

critique: The answer omits the arrival of the Italian and German settlers.

critique: The answer should mention the Contestado War.

critique: The answer is missing the Italian and German settlers.


text:
“What in the 7th Level is going on?”

Shun ran down the hall in the direction of the scream. He wasn’t much use in a fight, but perhaps his presence alone would be enough to send any would be robber away. Who wasn’t afraid of the son of a Council Head?

He made it to the foyer and saw what had caused the scream. He sighed and picked up the mouse that had wandered too far into his home.

“Lorelei, if you cause a commotion like that over a little mouse again I’ll see you sent to the kitchens. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir… I’m sorry Sir, it won’t happen again; it just scared me is all, ran right up and started nibbling at me socks.”

Lorelei was a pretty little thing, she’d come on staff just recently but he’d never seen a less pick up the intricacies of a household quite as fast as she did. She was fair of skin like Devi, except not as pale. She was a little fuller of body as well although not by much.

Shun was beginning to wonder if all the women from the less were scrawny.

The next thing he knew he was laying on his back in the foyer with fire spreading around him. The glass from the stained windows had shattered outward; he could see the center table was torn to bits and a tingling on his arm.

Lorelei was nowhere to be seen.

He tried lifting up his right arm, the arm he’d handled the mouse in and couldn’t. He tried to sit up and barely lifted his head before he saw Devi crouched over him, wiping away the blood on his face.

“S’good you tossed that mouse when I yelled or you woulda lost ye arm.”

He closed his eyes and laid his head back to the ground only for her to scoop him up as if he were a babe. She walked out of the main door with him and quickly ran down the stone walkway to the right of the main road leading to his estate. There she laid him down in a thicket and took up a careful watch of the area.

“But… Devi, what happened? Last I can recall I’d picked up the mouse Lorelei was… Lorelei, where is she?”

“Prolly halfway to Nine Moons Pub by now, good riddance to the Jìnǚ.”

“Nine Moons… Devi what are you on about? We have to make sure she’s alright. Father will be cross if his favorite servant were dead. Where are you taking me? The hospital is too far to carry me, take the mobile.”

Devi looked annoyed, it was the first time he’d seen her with any real emotion on her face. Well, it was the first time he’d seen her face. She was beautiful, her eyes a light shade of amber shining as if the light were on them and a light blue eye shadow. Her lips pressed together hard into a thin line but the color enthralled him, a vibrant blue. Her hands were soft against his skin.

“Listen papa’s boy, ye not goin’ to no doc, and ye not goin’ near ye dad. Lorelei was hired by ye pap to kill ye. It’s the why of it I don’t yet know. You’ll be fine, just weak from the blast and a little shock.

The mouse was the new bio-bomb ye papa ordered made. Basically out of this whole damned city, I’m the only one wants ye alive. So here’s what ye gonna do, ye gonna shut ye mouth until we get where we goin’, and ye gonna thank me when we get there.”

Shun paled, he’d known his father was working on something for inter-city warfare but not like this. Although it didn’t surprise him his father wanted him dead. Ever since mother made the sacrifice instead of just getting him a new chip he’d done nothing but either avoid him or show his disdain.

He decided he may indeed just be better off going with her.

“Alright Devi, I trust your judgment but I will require a proper explanation for when we get, wherever we’re heading.”

“Fair enough I guess, can ye walk yet?”

“I think I can, is it far? I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to; this is my first explosion after all.”

She giggled a bit before helping him up.

“S’not too far, only a couple blocks into the less’ quarter. Lucky for me ye live close by or we may have been in trouble.”

As they headed through bushes and back alleys a thought occurred to him, one he wasn’t able to recognize until after the initial shock was over. Who is this woman?

title: [SF] One of Many - Part 2

question: What is Lorelei initially afraid of?

answer: Lorelei is afraid of a mouse.

critique: The answer could be phrased as a complete sentence.

critique: The answer should be more specific about the mouse.

critique: The answer should be a complete sentence.

critique: It is omitted that the mouse is nibbling on her socks.

question: What is the twist in Lorelei's character?

answer: She seems to be a shy maid but she actually is hired to kill the narrator.

critique: The answer should mention that she is a bio-bomb.

critique: "She seems to be a shy maid but she actually is hired to kill the narrator." - it's the other way around. She's apparently a killer hired to kill the narrator.

critique: "She seems to be a shy maid but she actually is hired to kill the narrator." - this is incorrect because the narrator is Shun, not the reader.

critique: It's omitted that she's actually a bio-bomb.

question: Who is Devi?

answer: She saved Shun's life when his home exploded. She takes him to the less' quarter.

critique: Doesn't say, but she seems to be out to protect him.

critique: The answer omits that Devi is Shun's housekeeper.

critique: The answer should mention that Devi is Shun's father's servant.

critique: The response misses to mention that Devi is Shun's servant.

text: In addition to the answer, the details should probably include that Devi is a trim female from the Less with amber eyes and blue lips who works in Shun's household.


text:
Whenever I'm on campus I always make it a point to stop for a drink from the same fountain in an alcove of the English building around the corner from my creative writing lab. My intentions are not  so much directed by my physical thirst, but by the certainty of her presence. Perpetually hanging out in her frame above the fountain, she gazes out at me from amidst a charcoal tangle of bed sheets. Her shoulders and clavicle are curves of smooth brown velum stroked by her maker's pencil. He created perfection in her eyes. They draw me to her like inky pools of pulsing gravity. Often, I end up stooped over with my gaze averted towards the ceiling slurping much longer than I need to.

The sketch is titled, In the Morning. How many times I have wished to have actually been there on that morning, to be the lucky one who first saw her lying there in the flesh, a vision to inspire any form. He's the one who gets all the credit on the placard though. “Troy Munro, American, b. 1986. Troy's works in many mediums are inspired by placid scenes of everyday reality.” Everyday reality? Who are these curators kidding? Girls like that don't exist in everyday life! They inexplicably manifest out of some interdimensional field of radical perfection, on a collective mission to populate artists' receptions and backstage band interviews. “So,” the man with the tape recorder asks, “where do you draw your inspiration from?”

What was it like on that first morning when he woke up in her bed? Was he so smitten that he immediately leapt up and reached for his notebook and pencil to immortalize the moment? Would she have thought he was weird if he did? Was she complicit? Is she a model? One thing I know for certain is that she was drawn in her natural habitat, completely at home, wrapped half modestly in those rumpled sheets. No, it can't have been the very first morning because no human being could possible exude that kind of perfectly serene languor after such an uncertain, seminal night as the one which surely preceded, could they? That would be so cool. I wish I knew who she was, and whether or not her and Troy Munro's relationship came to the eventual, fortuitous demise that I'm imagining.

I live with my girlfriend, Jenny, in an apartment off campus, and we mostly get along. Sometimes we seem to get so busy though that we exist merely as images passing through each other's space. The cohabitation thing really didn't come about as the result of a well thought out plan, it more or less just happened. My old roommate dropped out of school in the middle of last semester and bailed on the lease. Two weeks went by and nobody responded to the fliers I hung on billboards around campus. My ad said, “Space available. Potential applicants should be fastidiously undistinguished, not lacking in discretion, and tasteful in habit and manner. 1 bedroom, separate bath, $400/mo. plus utilities.” I guess I was looking for another ultra-ironic English major. At least Jenny puts up with my mess making.

Last week I left a Facebook conversation up on my monitor with a girl from my Film and Lit. class about an extracurricular movie we watched together. During the ensuing hostilities I tried to cobble together some kind of scholastic justification for our liaison, but Jenny tested my fumbling excuses like a tuning fork and they all rang hollow. That night I slept in the computer room, on the floor in a sleeping bag, staring up at the glow of my desktop.

The next day I found myself back at the fountain, head bowed as if in wistful supplication. Please relieve the futility of my situation. As I gaze at her portrait her voice glides smooth as pulp into my ear, “It's already a perfect morning, Robert.” Now that I'm lying next to her I'm beginning to understand the image from a different perspective. That stack of books on her nightstand wasn't visible from the other side of the fountain. She's obviously a grad student; every volume meets my perspicuous approval- discourses by Barthes, a collection of Thoreau, confessions of Augustine, even a door stopping volume of DFW. The same voices flow through her supple mind as through mine. We hardly need to speak, but we do. Dialog after dialog, bantering easily in the most natural poetry and prose, there in her room, in the morning.

Back at the apartment that evening and Jenny can't believe that I didn't bring home any take-out for dinner. Seriously, after yesterday, I can't even bother to grab some Chinese? The cable has been cutting in and out all evening and she tried to call but the account is in my name and they won't do anything unless I talk to them. But the call center is closed now because I took my sweet time coming home. Don't I understand that she would have cleaned the kitchen if she hadn't had her class and then her internship, and what had I been doing all morning at home by myself anyway? Maybe if I controlled my time better, both of our lives would be a lot easier. Oh yeah, and have I checked my fucking Facebook lately?

That night I lay curled up on the floor and dreamed of stealing that picture.

In the morning, when I am with her, time ceases to function in its usual jet propulsed way. Her artfully tossed sheets freeze sloping rifts in the continuum between space, time, and everything else. We clamber barely clothed among the many incidental ridges, trekking the badland hills of her linens like a couple of early morning wanderers trying to rediscover where we pitched our tent. She stokes the smoldering campfire and boils organic fair-trade coffee for us in a speckled green percolator. Even in the desert wilds, this one has class.

It's nine P.M. and students and faculty are clearing the academic building in mass exodus. I have very little desire to go home, and my company has already been politely declined via text from the girl from Film and Lit.. Sitting on a bench in a deserted hallway reading Don Delillo, I must look like I'm waiting for someone. In a way, I suppose I am. I unzip my backpack and wander around the corner to the fountain. There's a moment where my adrenaline jumps and I am petrified that someone is about to come out of the restroom while I'm stuffing her into my bag. I feel kind of creepy to be honest, but I can tell that she wants to come home with me. So I commence with the theft. At the last second I decide to snatch the descriptive tag along with it. Now the only evidence left of her abduction is a tiny white hook. These corridors are hung like art galleries; nobody will even notice that she's gone.

When I get home, Jenny is already shut off in the bedroom watching HBO on the DVR. Right now I am ever so grateful to be separated, even just by walls and noise. I don't dare get a hammer and nail out right now to hang her properly, so I just lean the frame up against the wall on the back of my computer desk. I check online to make sure I haven't missed any messages, fiddling around with the title placard while I click around and think. This tag is evidence against me. It has got to go. I already know the title of the piece, and of course the preeminent Troy Munro signed his own work. There's no getting around that, but it's mine now. Sorry about it friend. I'll just throw this card in the dumpster tomorrow when I go out for a smoke. But that's in the morning. For right now I'm just going to sit here in my computer chair for a while and just stare at her.

title: [MF] Stolen Work

question: Summarize the narrator's problems with his girlfriend.

answer: Jenny is the narrator's girlfriend, and they mostly get along. Sometimes, though, they seem to get so busy that they exist merely as images passing through each other's space. His old roommate dropped out of school and bailed on the lease, and the narrator left a conversation with a girl from a film class up on his monitor. The next day the girl in question called him out on it, and he lied to cover himself. The narrator's girlfriend is upset that he didn't bring home any take-out for dinner.

critique: The narrator's girlfriend is upset that he didn't bring home any take-out for dinner.

critique: The narrator's girlfriend is not upset about the take-out.

critique: The narrator's problems with his girlfriend are not limited to the issues listed in the answer.

text: The response is wrong in that it was not the "girl in question" who called out the narrator, it was his girlfriend, Jenny, who did.

category: accuracy

question: What is the primary conflict of the story?

answer: The narrator wants to steal a drawing of a woman that he is attracted to and hang it up at his house. However, he feels guilty about stealing it.

critique: It's omitted that the narrator's girlfriend doesn't approve of his extracurricular activities.

critique: The narrator doesn't feel guilty about stealing it.

critique: The narrator doesn't feel guilty about stealing the drawing.

critique: Technically he doesn't feel guilty about stealing it--he's caught doing it

critique: It's omitted that he wants to steal the drawing in order to have it for himself.

question: What does the story say about the love between the narrator and the girl from the Film and Literature class?

answer: The narrator and the girl from the Film and Literature class watch an extracurricular movie together. The narrator tries to cobble together some kind of scholastic justification for their liaison, but Jenny tests his fumbling excuses and they all ring hollow. The narrator sleeps in the computer room, on the floor in a sleeping bag, staring up at the glow of his desktop. The next day, he finds himself back at the fountain, head bowed as if in wistful supplication. The girl's voice glides smooth as pulp into his ear, "It's already a perfect morning, Robert." The narrator goes home and Jenny can't believe that he didn't bring home any take-out for dinner. The narrator feels that he can't bother to grab some Chinese. The narrator lays on the floor and dreams of stealing the girl's picture.

critique: The narrator's feelings for the girl are irrelevant to the question.

critique: The response contains irrelevant information.

critique: The answer does not focus on the love between the narrator and the girl from the Film and Literature class. It should be rewritten.

critique: This is not about the love between the narrator and the girl from the Film and Literature class. This should be omitted.

critique: The answer is not related to the question.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The narrator's feelings for the girl are not relevant to the question.

text: The girl from the Film and Literature class is different from the girl in the picture, yet the response assumes they are the same person


text:
**In this broken city, friends are hard to come by.**

It is night. Bolt slowly walks through the alleys, hiding in the darkness whenever he hears anything. Eventually, he instinctively makes his way back to his own territory. He finds an open tent; it is a dirty tent with only a blanket inside. By now his arm has stopped bleeding, but he now has a new scar. He crawls into the tent and curls into a ball under the blanket. His body rests on the warm dirt floor as he silently cries. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

He had failed. He goes into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Bolt awakes to the sound of someone approaching his tent. He clutches his new knife, ready to spring into action. He turns to stare into the morning sunlight. It is Sasha. “Hey Bolt!” she says smiling. She is fair-skinned around the age of 13. She grins as she approaches Bolt. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Her most distinctive quality is her eyes, they are red. Her skinny body approaches Bolt as her long dark hair waves back and forth.

“Hello Sasha,” Bolt grumbles as he throws his blanket off.

“How was the drop?” she asks him cheerily.

Bolt looks away. He can’t look her in the eye. He is ashamed and disappointed in himself. Sasha’s smile immediately fades. She gets a defeated look on her face and sighs. “It happens.” she says quietly to Bolt.
Failing a drop is the same as failing your gang. It is making a mockery of all the risks they were put through in order to get you so far. Bolt was the last leg of the drop, he was supposed to make the delivery. Failing such a crucial step is inexcusable.

“Are you okay?” Sasha asks him. She steps towards him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Bolt looks further away from her ashamed. He understands exactly what everyone had to do to get him so far. Especially Sasha, she is the leader of his gang, and she is the most scarred out of any of them. Not only that, because she’s a girl, she runs much more risk than any of them can imagine. To fail a drop is to disregard all the risk she takes every time they conduct a drop. “I got caught and scarred by Hawks.”
Sasha grabs his hand and lifts up his sleeve to reveal a scabbed arm. “We need to get you medicine before your arm gets infected.”

They walk together side-by-side. Sasha understands what Bolt is going through. Every single member of their gang has failed a drop before, but the feeling never gets any better. They have each other and that’s it. They are family and every time they go on a drop, they could lose their family. So failing a drop is the same as rejecting your family. They are in friendly territory, from here, they don’t need to hide, nor do they need to run, they can walk. After an hour of weaving through crowds they reach their usual hideout in the back of an alley.

“Flower!” Sasha calls. “We need you.” A young girl appears from under a tent in the corner of the alley. “We need some clean water. Bolt was scarred.”

Flower just nods. She is around 10 years old with long blonde hair. She is the supplier of drops; she takes the orders and payments from someone else. With the money, they are able to survive. She pulls out a crinkled water bottle with just a sliver of water left. “This is all we have left.” She says.
Sasha takes the water and pours the rest onto Bolt’s scabs. “We failed the drop.” She says while gently cleaning the wound with her sleeve.

Flower just sighs. She has the safest job of them all because she has a single ability that none of them do. She is able to read and write. The rest of them can only read if even that. None of them know how to write. Flower finds a beat up notebook and a pencil to record the failure of the drop.

The notebook consists of a single T-chart on every page. On one side is written either success or failure, and on the other side there is a paragraph long description of the patient. Next to “bacterial infection, needs antibiotics or will die”, Flower writes “failure”. It takes her a while but her words are legible. Every single description in her notebook ends with “or will die”. Half of the drops have been failures.

title: [AA] This Broken City (Chapter 3)

question: Summarize the theme of this story.

answer: The theme of this story is family. The main characters in this story are a group of kids that live on the streets. Their family is their gang and the consequences of failing a drop are dire.

critique: The answer should mention that the theme is also survival.

critique: The answer should mention the theme of survival.

critique: This is a good start, but the answer should be more specific.

critique: The answer should mention the importance of literacy.

question: Summarize what has led society to this point in the world of this story.

answer: No answer

critique: "No answer" is not true. It asks for a summary of what led society to this point

critique: The story has a clear setting, so it is possible to answer the question.

critique: No answer is given, so a response needs to be generated.

critique: The answer should mention that the story is set in a dystopian world.

critique: The answer should mention that the story does not mention the reason for the state of the world.

critique: The answer should mention that the story does not explain the setting.

question: Summarize the importance of "the drop".

answer: "The drop" seems to be some sort of illegal operation. Bolt is the last leg of the drop, which means he's a key member of the operation. He's important enough to have risked getting caught by Hawks, who are not good people, but who might have been the only ones willing to take on the drop. This is a very important mission, and Bolt failed it, meaning he failed his family. He's ashamed and disappointed.

critique: The answer should mention that the drop is a drug deal.

question: Summarize the character of Flower.

answer: Flower is a young girl who is the supplier of drops. She supplies the gang with drops and with the money, they are able to survive. She is only 10 years old with long blonde hair and is the only one who can read and write. She has the safest job of them all because she has a single ability that none of them do. She is able to read and write. The rest of them can only read if even that. None of them know how to write. Flower finds a beat up notebook and a pencil to record the failure of the drop.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: It's unclear what Flower can do. This could be corrected.


text:
GARY MICHAEL BARNIDGE (born September 22, 1985) is a former American football tight end. He was drafted by the Carolina Panthers in the fifth round of the 2008 NFL Draft (picked 141st overall). He played college football at Louisville. He has also played for Cleveland Browns.

Early years

Barnidge was born on September 22, 1985 in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He attended and played high school football at Middleburg High School.[1]

College career

Barnidge played college football at Louisville from 2004 to 2007.[2] As a freshman, he had seven receptions for 85 yards and four touchdowns.[3] As a sophomore, he had 17 receptions for 240 yards and two touchdowns.[4] As a junior, he had 31 receptions for 511 yards and four touchdowns.[5] As a senior, he had 53 receptions for 655 yards and seven touchdowns. In the game against Middle Tennessee State, he had four receptions for 126 yards and two touchdowns to go along with a fumble recovery for a touchdown.[6][7] He played in 48 games, including 29 starts and recorded 108 receptions for 1,491 yards and 17 touchdowns. He majored in sports administration.[8]

Professional career

Carolina Panthers

[Barnidge signing autographs in 2010.] Barnidge was selected by the Carolina Panthers in the fifth round (141st overall) in the 2008 NFL Draft.[9] The Panthers previously acquired the pick from the New York Jets in a trade that sent Kris Jenkins to the Jets.

With the Panthers, Barnidge's main impact came on special-teams. In the 2008 season, he appeared in fifteen games in the regular season and the Divisional Round of the playoffs against the Arizona Cardinals.[10] In the 2009 season, he had 12 receptions for 242 yards.[11] In 2010, he appeared in all 16 games[12] and led the team with 17 special-teams tackles.[13] He missed the whole 2011 NFL season with a broken ankle suffered in a preseason practice.[14] In November 26, 2012, Barnidge recorded his first professional touchdown reception against the Philadelphia Eagles on a 24-yard pass from Cam Newton.[15] Overall, he finished the 2012 season with six receptions for 78 yards and a touchdown.[16]

Cleveland Browns

On March 14, 2013, Barnidge was signed by the Cleveland Browns as an unrestricted free agent.[17] In the 2013 season, he had 13 receptions for 127 yards and two touchdowns.[18] In the 2014 season, he had 13 receptions for 156 yards.[19] During the 2015 season, Barnidge had a breakout year and finished with 79 receptions for 1,043 receiving yards and nine touchdowns (he had 44 receptions, 603 receiving yards and 3 touchdowns in his previous seven seasons combined).[20] His nine touchdowns tied Hall of Fame tight end Ozzie Newsome's franchise record set in 1979 and ranked No. 4 among all NFL tight ends in 2015.[21] He was voted the best player on the Browns.[22] On December 10, 2015, Barnidge was signed to a 3-year extension worth around $12 million.[23] After the 2015 season, Barnidge made his first Pro Bowl, being voted as an alternate.[24] He was ranked 94th on the NFL Top 100 Players of 2016.[25]

On June 2, 2016, Barnidge underwent a sports hernia surgery.[26] He started all 16 games in 2016, catching 55 passes for 612 yards and two touchdowns.[27]

On April 28, 2017, Barnidge was released by the Browns.[28]

Career statistics

  Year    Team   GP                       GS    Receiving   Fumbles
  ------- ------ ------------------------ ----- ----------- --------- ------ ---- --- --- ---
  Rec     Yds    Avg                      Lng   TD          FUM
  2008    CAR    15                       0     0           0
  2009    CAR    16                       3     12          242
  2010    CAR    16                       3     0           0
  2011    CAR    DID NOT PLAY – INJURED
  2012    CAR    16                       5     6           78
  2013    CLE    16                       12    13          127
  2014    CLE    13                       2     13          156
  2015    CLE    16                       13    79          1,043
  2016    CLE    16                       16    55          612
  Total   124    54                       178   2,258       12.7

Personal life

In 2011, Barnidge, along with friend and Louisville Cardinal teammate Breno Giacomini, then of the Seattle Seahawks, started a not-for-profit organization called American Football without Barriers. The organization hosted its first camp in China in March 2013.[29]

Barnidge has appeared on two episodes of _Total Divas_, an E! Network TV show about WWE Divas going on dates with Rosa Mendes and Summer Rae.[30] He also appeared on an episode of Impact Wrestling in 2017, assisting fellow NFL player DeAngelo Williams.[31] Barnidge also competed with Williams on _The Amazing Race 32_.[32]

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title: Gary Barnidge

question: Summarize everything relating to injuries.

answer: Barnidge missed the whole 2011 NFL season with a broken ankle suffered in a preseason practice. He underwent a sports hernia surgery in 2016.

critique: The answer omits that Barnidge also had a broken ankle in the preseason.

critique: The answer should mention his injury in 2008.

critique: The answer should mention the injury he suffered in the 2015 season.

question: Summarize Barnidge's career during the 1970s.

answer: No answer

critique: He did not play in the 1970s, or have a career in the 1970s.

critique: The answer should mention that there is no information about Barnidge's career during the 1970s.

question: Summarize everything relating to specific matches.

answer: In the 2008 season, he appeared in the Divisional Round of the playoffs against the Arizona Cardinals. In November 26, 2012, he recorded his first professional touchdown against the Philadelphia Eagles. In 2016, he started all 16 games and caught two touchdowns.

critique: The answer should mention the match against Middle Tennessee State.

critique: The answer should mention his college career.


text:
I needed something new in my life. I craved for change and just had to have it. I sold most of my belongings other than my cellphone, a handful of clothes and a sleeping bag.  As I packed my bag, I tried not to think about everything I was leaving behind. I wrote my note to my parents. Telling them that I am sorry and I hope they understand. Once I was finished, I thought if I really wanted this. My mind was made up. Change was going to happen. I left my keys and the note on the kitchen counter and headed out the door. I remember the night, just like it was yesterday. It was a late April night, the breeze was ever so gentle and the moon was full. The stars were so bright. I really hoped they were as bright as my future. As I walked down the street, I thought about my best friend. She had no idea I was doing this. No body did. I finally reached the bus station. The older man at the counter seemed troubled that I was here at this hour. He asked what I was running from. "Nothing," I told him "I just need something new." After purchasing my ticket, I waited for my bus. I decided to send a goodbye text to her.

"Hey, this may come as a shock, but once you read I will be long gone. I am sorry. I know I should not have just left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. I love you and always will. I hope you take care of yourself and maybe I'll see you around." Send.

I turned my phone off as the bus arrived. I found a seat in the dark corner of the bus and just gazed out the window, letting my mind wonder. After what seemed like an entirety, I finally arrived at my destination. I was nearly 2,500 miles away from home and ready to start my new life. It took 4 days to travel from home, but I finally made it. I decided to turn my phone on and let my parents know I am safe and alive. I had one text from my best friend that read:

"I will miss you and I always will. You kept me sane. You put up with me when no one else could. I did not just lose a best friend, but I lost a part of me. I love you and I NEED you. I don't think you understand that. I NEED you. Without you, I don't see how I will make it. Please come home. Please."

another day passed and she sent this text;

"I love you and miss you. I am going to sleep now. I hope I see you again someday."

3 more days passed until I realized I made a mistake. I was headed home. I bought another bus ticket and headed back. I missed my family and my best friend. I needed to go back. I decided I would surprise everyone and not let them know I was coming home. It took another 4 days to travel back home. I arrived late afternoon and started walking home. The closer I got to home, the more I realized I really loved it. I knocked at my door and my mother opened it. Her eyes filled with tears. She cries and tells me she missed me. My father is happy, but also irritated that I did something so childish. I explained my feelings and told them I needed to go see my best friend.

Sadly, I only got to see my best friend one more time.

"I am sorry too. I did not mean for any of this to happen. I have no where or no one to turn to. I need you. I am not alive without you. You are apart of me, I need you to live. I am done. I took some pills and now it's time for me to go to sleep. I love you."

The last time I saw her was at her funeral. It was my fault. She needed me and I let her down.

title: My Best Friend

question: Why does the narrator decide to leave?

answer: She wants to change her life.

critique: "She" implies the narrator is a woman, they are explicitly referred to as male.

critique: The narrator doesn't want to change her life, she wants to change her life's circumstances.

critique: Add the detail of why she wants to change her life.

critique: The narrator leaves because she craves for change.

question: Summarize the text messages the narrator receives from their friend.

answer: The narrator texts their friend saying they are leaving, apologizing, and letting their friend know that they love them. The friend responds that they will miss them and love them, and they send the narrator a text saying they are going to sleep. The narrator continues to travel for another three days until they realize that they made a mistake. They return home and tell their parents that they are going to see their best friend. The narrator is able to see their friend one more time before their friend kills themselves. The narrator finds out from their friend's mother that their friend had killed themselves, after which they go to the funeral. The narrator did not mean to let their friend down.

critique: The story doesn't present the friend's suicide as entirely the narrator's fault, but it does say that the narrator regrets not being there for their friend.

critique: The narrator's friend texts them again after they return home, saying that they are done and that they have killed themselves. Include this text in the response as well.

critique: "The narrator texts their friend saying they are leaving, apologizing, and letting their friend know that they love them. The friend responds that they will miss them and love them, and they send the narrator a text saying they are going to sleep." - this is incorrect. The narrator did not text her friend saying they are leaving. She texted her goodbye.

critique: The narrator's friend texts them again after the narrator returns home, saying that they are done and that they have killed themselves.

critique: The narrator's friend texts them again after the narrator returns home, but the narrator doesn't read it until after the friend kills herself.