Setting Up A Dummy Corporation :: Get Rich Quick

How to get anything you ever wanted for free... The "system" is a series of checks and balances. It's an insiders club and unless you know the rules or are willing to break them, you'll probably never have a pot to piss in. Not.... Where does it say, we have to put up with, read about or watch on TV, the exploits of people like Donald Trump, Robin Leach or one of the "Kennedy's". Personally, I'm tired hearing about all their bullshit. Who gives a shit what Hillary or Tipper are wearing either? When people like "The Donald" make a poor business investment and can't pay their bills on time, what do they do? They renegotiate. Yep, that's right. They tell the bank "I can't pay" but I'm such a fabulous person you should renegotiate my loan. Bullshit! How fast do you think the bank would have you or me out on our ass? In record time, right? Money is power and unless you have money you're powerless right? Not... Money is an illusion. Power is an illusion. Both are projected by cunning and affluent people and organizations to get what they want. And, if they can't pay for it, they go bankrupt or renegotiate. Why should they have all that luxury and not us? Hell, I can default on a loan as well as any of them! Almost every company in America will ship you goods on credit if you project the right image, ask the right questions and have the right answers...People will kiss your ass if they think you have great wealth. The best resturants will seat you "up front" if they think "you're a player". Why not? Sounds good to me... Is this method for acquiring material things legal? Hell no! But half the shit Big Brother does to us everyday isn't legal either...Want to ride around town in a big black imported car for free? How about a brand new Pentium computer for the office? The kids want Mopeds? Nooooooo problem! Pay attention. Picking a company name... What's in a name? Business wise it could mean everything...if you want to get over. It also has a lot to do with what you want to acquire for free. Let's say you want to start a new business and need all-types of office equipment. You could call yourself "Sal's Pizzeria" but that wouldn't wash too well when you're trying to establish a $100,000 line of credit. Most credit managers will dump the application in the round file and require COD cash. Not the best choice of names. How about something like Tri-Star Industries Intl or RCA Electronics?

Career Passports and Career Portfolios Essay

Portfolios have long been used in some professions to showcase professional work and skill. In education, portfolios have also been used for assessment, including self-assessment (Lankes 1995; Pond et al. 1998). Both career portfolios and career passports reflect this dual focus—students assess themselves in the process of developing a product, and the resulting product showcases and documents their experiences and skills. A distinction is sometimes drawn between a portfolio as developmental and a passport as summative (Bridging the Gap 1993). With portfolios, more emphasis is put on the developmental process of self-assessment, planning, and goal-setting; with passports, more emphasis is put on the final product that sums up the results of the process and communicates them to others. In practice, however, both passports and portfolios represent a combination of developmental process and summative product. The value of the passport or portfolio is also twofold: students come to an awareness of their own skills and experience, and employers have richer, more detailed information for hiring decisions than is provided in transcripts and diplomas. As early as the mid-1980s, Charner and Bhaerman (1986) advocated a Career Passport as a way for secondary students to identify and document their work and nonwork experiences and to translate those experiences into statements of skills specifically related to work. The process was necessary for students to understand what they had to offer to employers; the resulting Career Passport provided employers with critical information to supplement the information in school transcripts or even resumes. The Ohio Individual Career Plan (ICP) and Career Passport. The Ohio Career Passport is the capstone of students’ career decision-making process, begun before the ninth grade (Gahris n. d. The planning and decision making involved in the ICP process lead to each student’s Career Passport, an individual credential housing an array of formal documents that students use in the next step after high school. Components include a letter of verification from the school; a student-developed resume; a student narrative identifying career goals and underlying rationale; a transcript (including attendance); diplomas, certificates, licenses, or other credentials; and a list of any specific vocational program competencies. The state recommends housing tho se components in a consistent, easily recognizable folder. Students develop ICPs through career interest and aptitude assessment, exploration experiences, preferably through job shadowing, and annual review and revision in high school. The ICP and Career Passport can be developed in any statewide curriculum area but most often this occurs in English or social studies, with assistance from the computer instructor and guidance counselor. Classroom support materials include elementary, middle, and high school Career Development Blueprints and sample activity packets (Classroom Support Materials n. d. ). All Ohio schools are required to provide students the opportunity to complete the ICP and Career Passport in a structured classroom setting and local school boards may make the Career Passport a graduation requirement for their district, although parents may choose not to have their child involved. The South Dakota Career and Life Planning Portfolio. The Career and Life Planning Portfolio is a collection of work that documents a student’s skills, abilities, and ambitions (Division of Workforce and Career Preparation 1999; â€Å"DWCP Wins National Award† 2000). Usually organized in a standard jacket with color-coded folders, documentation can include both examples of work and information on career and education planning, skills employers want, projects/work samples, and assessment results. The Portfolio, which is not required, can be used for a variety of educational purposes, but its ultimate use is to house the projects and work samples that demonstrate to a prospective employer that the student has the skills and talents the employer needs. Based on a model developed by the Sioux Falls School District and tested at 25 state high schools, the Portfolio is accompanied by curriculum materials, activities, and resources for teachers. Career Certificates The Wisconsin Employability Skills Certificate. The Employability Skills Certificate Program is designed for students who do not participate in the Cooperative Education Skills Certificate Program and the Youth Apprenticeship Program (Lifework Education Team 2000). The Employability Skills Certificate, issued by the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction, recognizes students’ mastery of the employability skills identified by the U. S. Department of Labor’s Secretary’s Commission on Achieving Necessary Skills (SCANS). To participate in the voluntary program, local districts must provide three required components: Instruction and assessment of SCANS skills—Instruction can be provided in any curriculum area, and demonstration and assessment can occur either in the school or in the community. School-supervised work-based learning experience—Considerable flexibility is allowed for local districts in providing work-based learning experiences, which can include existing cooperative education, work experience, internships, or service learning programs. A minimum of 180 total work hours is required; occupation-related instruction is not required. Career planning—Working with parents and school personnel, each student develops a written Individual Career Plan (ICP) to make appropriate career, educational, and occupational choices. The ICP identifies tentative career goals and concrete, specific steps after high school to realize those goals; schools manage the ICP process and provide objective data both for original development and periodic reevaluation. The Connecticut Career Certificate (CCC). Part of the continuing School-to-Career (STC) system, the CCC verifies that a student has mastered a set of employability, academic, and technical skills identified in a partnership between the state Departments of Labor, Education, and Higher Education and the Connecticut Business and Industry Association (Connecticut Department of Labor 2001; Stickney and Alamprese 2001). The CCC is awarded by state-approved local districts to students who achieve all required competencies in one of eight career clusters. Academic standards (reading, writing, communication skills, math, science, and computer knowledge) are based on state-determined levels of performance on one of four assessments: Connecticut Mastery Test, administered to all 8th-grade students; the Connecticut Academic Performance Test, administered to all 10th-grade students; the voluntary Scholastic Assessment Test; or the voluntary Comprehensive Adult Students Assessment System, Level C or D. Employability standards (attitudes and attributes, customer service, teamwork, and adaptability), which are integrated curriculum frameworks for all eight career clusters, are correlated with SCANS skills. Both academic and employability standards are common across all eight career clusters, whereas technical skills and standards vary by cluster. The number of CCCs awarded has increased from 101 statewide in 1997-98 to 569 in 2000-01. More substantial percentages of high school students participated in STC career development activities—for example, 72 percent in career counseling and 50 percent each in career interest surveys and portfolio development. The Oregon Certificates of Mastery. By the school year 2004-05, all Oregon high schools will be required to offer the Certificate of Advanced Mastery (CAM). Designed to prepare students for success in their next steps after high school, the CAM documents each student’s academic and career-related knowledge and skills (Oregon Department of Education 2001). In the 2001 CAM model, academic skills include state performance standards in English (reading, speaking, and writing) math, science, and social science; these are four of the seven standards required for the state’s Certificate of Initial Mastery (CIM), which also include art, second language, and physical education. CAM candidates can meet the four required CIM performance standards either through CIM knowledge and skill tests or through CIM work samples. The six career-related learning standards—†fundamental skills essential for success in employment, college, family and community life† (p. 2)—include personal management, problem solving, communication, teamwork, employment foundations, and career development. To earn a CAM, each student must develop, review, and update an education plan for next steps after high school; develop an education profile to document progress and achievement; meet performance standards for applying academic and career-related knowledge and skills in new and complex situations; demonstrate career-related knowledge and skills; participate in planned career-related learning experiences; and satisfy the four CIM standards. Students can select specific areas of their education profile to document and communicate specific knowledge and skills to specific audiences, such as employers, and supplement that with a record of personal accomplishments, experiences, and skills. Other examples could be added to those presented here. Oklahoma’s 2001 Career Activity File: Career Portfolios K-12 (2001), Arizona’s Career Pathways: An Implementation and Resource Guide (1997), and Michigan’s proposed Content Standards and Working Draft Benchmarks for Career and Employability Skills (Using Employability Skills 1998) all address the same need for students to communicate knowledge and skills not captured well by traditional diplomas and transcripts. Whether an empty structure to fill or a carefully defined credential to earn, career passports, portfolios, and certificates provide a new means for students to document the whole range of knowledge and skills—employability, academic, or technical—they have to offer to employers. Effective practices in developing and using career portfolios and passports involve defining the roles of different actors, addressing issues of portfolio or passport design, and facilitating students’ developmental process (Wonacott 2001). Issues related to career passports, portfolios, and certificates that have not yet been addressed include student outcomes and success (e. g. , employment, starting salary), program coordination and cooperation across states, and the possible development of a national model.

Bag of Bones CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The murk came back and transformed that Sunday night's dusk into a thing of decadent beauty. The sun turned red as it slid down toward the hills and the haze picked up the glow, turning the western sky into a nosebleed. I sat out on the deck and watched it, trying to do a crossword puzzle and not getting very far. When the phone rang, I dropped Tough Stuff on top of my manuscript as I went to answer it. I was tired of looking at the title of my book every time I passed. ‘Hello?' ‘What's going on up there?' John Storrow demanded. He didn't even bother to say hi. He didn't sound angry, though; he sounded totally pumped. ‘I'm missing the whole goddam soap opera!' ‘I invited myself to lunch on Tuesday,' I said. ‘Hope you don't mind.' ‘No, that's good, the more the merrier.' He sounded as if he absolutely meant it. ‘What a summer, huh? What a summer! Anything happen just lately? Earthquakes? Volcanoes? Mass suicides?' ‘No mass suicides, but the old guy died,' I said. ‘Shit, the whole world knows Max Devore kicked it,' he said. ‘Surprise me, Mike! Stun me! Make me holler boy-howdy!' ‘No, the other old guy. Royce Merrill.' ‘I don't know who you oh, wait. The one with the gold cane who looked like an exhibit from Jurassic Park?' ‘That's him.' ‘Bummer. Otherwise . . . ?' ‘Otherwise everything's under control,' I said, then thought of the popped-out eyes of the cat-clock and almost laughed. What stopped me was a kind of surety that Mr. Good Humor Man was just an act John had really called to ask what, if anything, was going on between me and Mattie. And what was I going to say? Nothing yet? One kiss, one instant blue-steel hard-on, the fundamental things apply as time goes by? But John had other things on his mind. ‘Listen, Michael, I called because I've got something to tell you. I think you'll be both amused and amazed.' ‘A state we all crave,' I said. ‘Lay it on me.' ‘Rogette Whitmore called, and . . . you didn't happen to give her my parents' number, did you? I'm back in New York now, but she called me in Philly.' ‘I didn't have your parents' number. You didn't leave it on either of your machines.' ‘Oh, right.' No apology; he seemed too excited to think of such mundanities. I began to feel excited myself, and I didn't even know what the hell was going on. ‘I gave it to Mattie. Do you think the Whitmore woman called Mattie to get it? Would Mattie give it to her?' ‘I'm not sure that if Mattie came upon Rogette flaming in a thoroughfare, she'd piss on her to put her out.' ‘Vulgar, Michael, trs vulgarino.' But he was laughing. ‘Maybe Whitmore got it the same way Devore got yours.' ‘Probably so,' I said. ‘I don't know what'll happen in the months ahead, but right now I'm sure she's still got access to Max Devore's personal control panel. And if anyone knows how to push the buttons on it, it's probably her. Did she call from Palm Springs?' ‘Uh-huh. She said she'd just finished a preliminary meeting with Devore's attorneys concerning the old man's will. According to her, Grampa left Mattie Devore eighty million dollars.' I was struck silent. I wasn't amused yet, but I was certainly amazed. ‘Gets ya, don't it?' John said gleefully. ‘You mean he left it to Kyra,' I said at last. ‘Left it in trust to Kyra.' ‘No, that's just what he did not do. I asked Whitmore three times, but by the third I was starting to understand. There was method in his madness. Not much, but a little. You see, there's a condition. If he left the money to the minor child instead of to the mother, the condition would have no weight. It's funny when you consider that Mattie isn't long past minor status herself.' ‘Funny,' I agreed, and thought of her dress sliding between my hands and her smooth bare waist. I also thought of Bill Dean saying that men who went with girls that age always looked the same, had their tongues run out even if their mouths were shut. ‘What string did he put on the money?' ‘That Mattie remain on the TR for one year following Devore's death until July 17, 1999. She can leave on day-trips, but she has to be tucked up in her TR-90 bed every night by nine o'clock, or else the legacy is forfeit. Did you ever hear such a bullshit thing in your life? Outside of some old George Sanders movie, that is?' ‘No,' I said, and recalled my visit to the Fryeburg Fair with Kyra. Even in death he's seeking custody, I had thought, and of course this was the same thing. He wanted them here. Even in death he wanted them on the TR. ‘It won't fly?' I asked. ‘Of course it won't fly. Fucking crackpot might as well have written he'd give her eighty million dollars if she used blue tampons for a year. But she'll get the eighty mil, all right. My heart is set on it. I've already talked to three of our estate guys, and . . . you don't think I should bring one of them up with me on Tuesday, do you? Will Stevenson'll be the point man in the estate phase, if Mattie agrees.' He was all but babbling. He hadn't had a thing to drink, I'd've bet the farm on it, but he was sky-high on all the possibilities. We'd gotten to the happily-ever-after part of the fairy tale, as far as he was concerned; Cinderella comes home from the ball through a cash cloudburst. ‘ . . . course Will's a little bit old,' John was saying, ‘about three hundred or so, which means he's not exactly a fun guy at a party, but . . . ‘ ‘Leave him home, why don't you?' I said. ‘There'll be plenty of time to carve up Devore's will later on. And in the immediate future, I don't think Mattie's going to have any problem observing the bullshit condition. She just got her job back, remember?' ‘Yeah, the white buffalo drops dead and the whole herd scatters!' John exulted. ‘Look at em go! And the new multimillionaire goes back to filing books and mailing out overdue notices! Okay, Tuesday we'll just party.' ‘Good.' ‘Party 'til we puke.' ‘Well . . . maybe us older folks will just party until we're mildly nauseated, would that be all right?' ‘Sure. I've already called Romeo Bissonette, and he's going to bring George Kennedy, the private detective who got all that hilarious shit on Durgin. Bissonette says Kennedy's a scream when he gets a drink or two in him. I thought I'd bring some steaks from Peter Luger's, did I tell you that?' ‘I don't believe you did.' ‘Best steaks in the world. Michael, do you realize what's happened to that young woman? Eighty million dollars!' ‘She'll be able to replace Scoutie.' ‘Huh?' ‘Nothing. Will you come in tomorrow night or on Tuesday?' ‘Tuesday morning around ten, into Castle County Airport. New England Air. Mike, are you all right? You sound odd.' ‘I'm all right. I'm where I'm supposed to be. I think.' ‘What's that supposed to mean?' I had wandered out onto the deck. In the distance thunder rumbled. It was hotter than hell, not a breath of breeze stirring. The sunset was fading to a baleful afterglow. The sky in the west looked like the white of a bloodshot eye. ‘I don't know,' I said, ‘but I have an idea the situation will clarify itself. I'll meet you at the airport.' ‘Okay,' he said, and then, in a hushed, almost reverential voice: ‘Eighty million motherfucking American dollars.' ‘It's a whole lotta lettuce,' I agreed, and wished him a good night. I drank black coffee and ate toast in the kitchen the next morning, watching the TV weatherman. Like so many of them these days, he had a slightly mad look, as if all those Doppler radar images had driven him to the brink of something. I think of it as the Millennial Video Game look. ‘We've got another thirty-six hours of this soup to work through and then there's going to be a big change,' he was saying, and pointed to some dark gray scum lurking in the Midwest. Tiny animated lightning-bolts danced in it like defective sparkplugs. Beyond the scum and the lightning-bolts, America looked clear all the way out to the desert country, and the posted temperatures were fifteen degrees cooler. ‘We'll see temps in the mid-nineties today and can't look for much relief tonight or tomorrow morning. But tomorrow afternoon these frontal storms will reach western Maine, and I think most of you are going to want to keep updated on weather conditions. Before we get back to cooler air and bright clear skies on Wednesday, we're probably going to see violent thunderstorms, heavy rain, hail in some locations. Tornados are rare in Maine, but some towns in western and central Maine could see them tomorrow. Back to you, Earl.' Earl, the morning news guy, had the innocent beefy look of a recent retiree from the Chippendales and read off the Teleprompter like one. ‘Wow,' he said. ‘That's quite a forecast, Vince. Tornados a possibility.' ‘Wow,' I said. ‘Say wow again, Earl. Do it 'til I'm satisfied.' ‘Holy cow,' Earl said just to spite me, and the telephone rang. I went to answer it, giving the waggy clock a look as I went by. The night had been quiet no sobbing, no screaming, no nocturnal adventures but the clock was disquieting, just the same. It hung there On the wall eyeless and dead, like a message full of bad news. ‘Hello?' ‘Mr. Noonan?' I knew the voice, but for a moment couldn't place it. It was because she had called me Mr. Noonan. To Brenda Meserve I'd been Mike for almost fifteen years. ‘Mrs M.? Brenda? What ‘ ‘I can't work for you anymore,' she said, all in a rush. ‘I'm sorry I can't give you proper notice I never stopped work for anyone without giving notice, not even that old drunk Mr Croyden but I have to. Please understand.' ‘Did Bill find out I called you? I swear to God, Brenda, I never said a word ‘ ‘No. I haven't spoken to him, nor he to me. I just can't come back to Sara Laughs. I had a bad dream last night. A terrible dream. I dreamed that . . . something's mad at me. If I come back, I could have an accident. It would look like an accident, at least, but . . . it wouldn't be.' That's silly, Mrs M., I wanted to say. You're surely past the age where you believe in campfire stories about ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties. But of course I could say no such thing. What was going on in my house was no campfire story. I knew it, and she knew I did. ‘Brenda, if I've caused you any trouble, I'm truly sorry.' ‘Go away, Mr. Noonan . . . Mike. Go back to Derry and stay for awhile. It's the best thing you could do.' I heard the letters sliding on the fridge and turned. This time I actually saw the circle of fruits and vegetables form. It stayed open at the top long enough for four letters to slide inside. Then a little plastic lemon plugged the hole and completed the circle. yats, the letters said, then swapped themselves around, making stay Then both the circle and the letters broke up. ‘Mike, please.' Mrs. M. was crying. ‘Royce's funeral is tomorrow. Everyone in the TR who matters the old-timers will be there.' Yes, of course they would. The old ones, the bags of bones who knew what they knew and kept it to themselves. Except some of them had talked to my wife. Royce himself had talked to her. Now he was dead. So was she. ‘It would be best if you were gone. You could take that young woman with you, maybe. Her and her little girl.' But could I? I somehow didn't think so. I thought the three of us were on the TR until this was over . . . and I was starting to have an idea of when that would be. A storm was coming. A summer storm. Maybe even a tornado. ‘Brenda, thanks for calling me. And I'm not letting you go. Let's just call it a leave of absence, shall we?' ‘Fine . . . whatever you want. Will you at least think about what I said?' ‘Yes. In the meantime, I don't think I'd tell anyone you called me, all right?' ‘No!' she said, sounding shocked. Then: ‘But they'll know. Bill and Yvette . . . Dickie Brooks at the garage . . . old Anthony Weyland and Buddy Jellison and all the others . . . they'll know. Goodbye, Mr. Noonan. I'm so sorry. For you and your wife. Your poor wife. I'm so sorry.' Then she was gone. I held the phone in my hand for a long time. Then, like a man in a dream, I put it down, crossed the room, and took the eyeless clock off the wall. I threw it in the trash and went down to the lake for a swim, remembering that W. E Harvey story ‘August Heat,' the one that ends with the line ‘The heat is enough to drive a man mad.' I'm not a bad swimmer when people aren't pelting me with rocks, but my first shore-to-float-to-shore lap was tentative and unrhythmic ugly because I kept expecting something to reach up from the bottom and grab me. The drowned boy, maybe. The second lap was better, and by the third I was relishing the increased kick of my heart and the silky coolness of the water rushing past me. Halfway through the fourth lap I pulled myself up the float's ladder and collapsed on the boards, feeling better than I had since my encounter with Devore and Rogette Whitmore on Friday night. I was still in the zone, and on top of that I was experiencing a glorious endorphin rush. In that state, even the dismay I'd felt when Mrs M. told me she was resigning her position ebbed away. She would come back when this was over; of course she would. In the meantime, it was probably best she stay away. Something's mad at me. I could have an accident. Yes indeed. She might cut herself. She might fall down a flight of cellar stairs. She might even have a stroke running across a hot parking lot. I sat up and looked at Sara on her hill, the deck jutting out over the drop, the railroad ties descending. I'd only been out of the water for a few minutes, but already the day's sticky heat was folding over me, stealing my rush. The water was still as a mirror. I could see the house reflected in it, and in the reflection Sara's windows became watchful eyes. I thought that the focus of all the phenomena the epicenter was very likely on The Street between the real Sara and its drowned image. This is where it happened, Devore had said. And the old-timers? Most of them probably knew what I knew: that Royce Merrill had been murdered. And wasn't it possible wasn't it likely that what had killed him might come among them as they sat in their pews or gathered afterward around his grave? That it might steal some of their force their guilt, their memories, their TR-ness to help it finish the job? I was very glad that John was going to be at the trailer tomorrow, and Romeo Bissonette, and George Kennedy, who was so amusing when he got a drink or two in him. Glad it was going to be more than just me with Mattie and Ki when the old folks got together to give Royce Merrill his sendoff. I no longer cared very much about what had happened to Sara and the Red-Tops, or even about what was haunting my house. What I wanted was to get through tomorrow, and for Mattie and Ki to get through tomorrow. We'd eat before the rain started and then let the predicted thunderstorms come. I thought that, if we could ride them out, our lives and futures might clarify with the weather. ‘Is that right?' I asked. I expected no answer talking out loud was a habit I had picked up since returning here but somewhere in the woods east of the house, an owl hooted. Just once, as if to say it was right, get through tomorrow and things will clarify. The hoot almost brought something else to mind, some association that was ultimately too gauzy to grasp. I tried once or twice, but the only thing I could come up with was the title of a wonderful old novel I Heard the Owl Call My Name. I rolled forward off the float and into the water, grasping my knees against my chest like a kid doing a cannonball. I stayed under as long as I could, until the air in my lungs started to feel like some hot bottled liquid, and then I broke the surface. I trod water about thirty yards out until I had my breath back, then set my sights on the Green Lady and stroked for shore. I waded out, started up the railroad ties, then stopped and went back to The Street. I stood there for a moment, gathering my courage, then walked to where the birch curved her graceful belly out over the water. I grasped that white curve as I had on Friday evening and looked into the water. I was sure I'd see the child, his dead eyes looking up at me from his bloating brown face, and that my mouth and throat would once more fill with the taste of the lake: help I'm drown, lemme up, oh sweet Jesus lemme up. But there was nothing. No dead boy, no ribbon-wrapped Boston Post cane, no taste of the lake in my mouth. I turned and peered at the gray forehead of rock poking out of the mulch. I thought There, right there, but it was only a conscious and unspontaneous thought, the mind voicing a memory. The smell of decay and the certainty that something awful had happened right there was gone. When I got back up to the house and went for a soda, I discovered the front of the refrigerator was bare and clean. Every magnetic letter, every fruit and vegetable, was gone. I never found them. I might have, probably would have, if there had been more time, but on that Monday morning time was almost up. I dressed, then called Mattie. We talked about the upcoming party, about how excited Ki was, about how nervous Mattie was about going back to work on Friday she was afraid that the locals would be mean to her, but in an odd, womanly way she was even more afraid that they would be cold to her, snub her. We talked about the money, and I quickly ascertained that she didn't believe in the reality of it. ‘Lance used to say his father was the kind of man who'd show a piece of meat to a starving dog and then eat it himself,' she said. ‘But as long as I have my job back, I won't starve and neither will Ki.' ‘But if there really are big bucks . . . ?' ‘Oh, gimme-gimme-gimme,' she said, laughing. ‘What do you think I am, crazy?' ‘Nah. By the way, what's going on with Ki's fridgeafator people? Are they writing any new stuff?' ‘That is the weirdest thing,' she said. ‘They're gone.' ‘The fridgeafator people?' ‘I don't know about them, but the magnetic letters you gave her sure are. When I asked Ki what she did with them, she started crying and said Allamagoosalum took them. She said he ate them in the middle of the night, while everyone was sleeping, for a snack.' ‘Allama-who-salum?' ‘Allamagoosalum,' Mattie said, sounding wearily amused. ‘Another little legacy from her grandfather. It's a corruption of the Micmac word for â€Å"boogeyman† or â€Å"demon† I looked it up at the library. Kyra had a good many nightmares about demons and wendigos and the allama-goosalum late last winter and this spring.' ‘What a sweet old grandpa he was,' I said sentimentally. ‘Right, a real pip. She was miserable over losing the letters; I barely got her calmed down before her ride to VBS came. Ki wants to know if you'll come to Final Exercises on Friday afternoon, by the way. She and her friend Billy Turgeon are going to flannelboard the story of baby Moses.' ‘I wouldn't miss it,' I said . . . but of course I did. We all did. ‘Any idea where her letters might have gone, Mike?' ‘No.' ‘Yours are still okay?' ‘Mine are fine, but of course mine don't spell anything,' I said, looking at the empty door of my own fridgeafator. There was sweat on my forehead. I could feel it creeping down into my eyebrows like oil. ‘Did you . . . I don't know . . . sense anything?' ‘You mean did I maybe hear the evil alphabet-thief as he slid through the window?' ‘You know what I mean.' ‘I suppose so.' A pause ‘I thought I heard something in the night, okay? About three this morning, actually. I got up and went into the hall. Nothing was there. But . . . you know how hot it's been lately?' ‘Yes.' ‘Well, not in my trailer, not last night. It was cold as ice. I swear I could almost see my breath.' I believed her. After all, I had seen mine. ‘Were the letters on the front of the fridge then?' ‘I don't know. I didn't go up the hall far enough to see into the kitchen. I took one look around and then went back to bed. I almost ran back to bed. Sometimes bed feels safer, you know?' She laughed nervously. ‘It's a kid thing. Covers are boogeyman kryptonite. Only at first, when I got in . . . I don't know . . . I thought someone was in there already. Like someone had been hiding on the floor underneath and then . . . when I went to check the hall . . . they got in. Not a nice someone, either.' Give me my dust-catcher, I thought, and shuddered. ‘What?' Mattie asked sharply. ‘What did you say?' ‘I asked who did you think it was? What was the first name that came into your mind?' ‘Devore,' she said. ‘Him. But there was no one there.' A pause. ‘I wish you'd been there.' ‘I do, too.' ‘I'm glad. Mike, do you have any ideas at all about this? Because it's very freaky.' ‘I think maybe . . . ‘ For a moment I was on the verge of telling her what had happened to my own letters. But if I started talking, where would it stop? And how much could she be expected to believe? ‘ . . . maybe Ki took the letters herself. Went walking in her sleep and chucked them under the trailer or something. Do you think that could be?' ‘I think I like the idea of Kyra strolling around in her sleep even less than the idea of ghosts with cold breath taking the letters off the fridge,' Mattie said. ‘Take her to bed with you tonight,' I said, and felt her thought come back like an arrow: I'd rather take you. What she said, after a brief pause, was: ‘Will you come by today?' ‘I don't think so,' I said. She was noshing on flavored yogurt as we talked, eating it in little nipping bites. ‘You'll see me tomorrow, though. At the party.' ‘I hope we get to eat before the thunderstorms. They're supposed to be bad.' ‘I'm sure we will.' ‘And are you still thinking? I only ask because I dreamed of you when I finally fell asleep again. I dreamed of you kissing me.' ‘I'm still thinking,' I said. ‘Thinking hard.' But in fact I don't remember thinking about anything very hard that day. What I remember is drifting further and further into that zone I've explained so badly. Near dusk I went for a long walk in spite of the heat all the way out to where Lane Forty-two joins the highway. Coming back I stopped on the edge of Tidwell's Meadow, watching the light fade out of the sky and listening to thunder rumble somewhere over New Hampshire. Once more there was that sense of how thin reality was, not just here but everywhere; how it was stretched like skin over the blood and tissue of a body we can never know clearly in this life. I looked at trees and saw arms; I looked at bushes and saw faces. Ghosts, Mattie had said. Ghosts with cold breath. Time was also thin, it seemed to me. Kyra and I had really been at the Fryeburg Fair some version of it, anyway; we had really visited the year 1900. And at the foot of the meadow the Red-Tops were almost there now, as they once had been, in their neat little cabins. I could almost hear the sound of their guitars, the murmur of their voices and laughter; I could almost see the gleam of their lanterns and smell their beef and pork frying. ‘Say baby, do you remember me?' one of her songs went, ‘Well I ain't your honey like I used to be.' Something rattled in the underbrush to my left. I turned that way, expecting to see Sara step out of the woods wearing Mattie's dress and Mattie's white sneakers. In this gloom, they would seem almost to float by themselves, until she got close to me . . . There was no one there, of course, it had undoubtedly been nothing but Chuck the Woodchuck headed home after a hard day at the office, but I no longer wanted to be out here, watching as the light drained out of the day and the mist came up from the ground. I turned for home. Instead of going into the house when I got back, I made my way along the path to Jo's studio, where I hadn't been since the night I had taken my IBM back in a dream. My way was lit by intermittent flashes of heat lightning. The studio was hot but not stale. I could smell a peppery aroma that was actually pleasant, and wondered if it might be some of Jo's herbs. There was an air conditioner out here, and it worked I turned it on and then just stood in front of it a little while. So much cold air on my overheated body was probably unhealthy, but it felt wonderful. I didn't feel very wonderful otherwise, however. I looked around with a growing sense of something too heavy to be mere sadness; it felt like despair. I think it was caused by the contrast between how little of Jo was left in Sara Laughs and how much of her was still out here. I imagined our marriage as a kind of playhouse and isn't that what marriage is, in large part? playing house? where only half the stuff was held down. Held down by little magnets or hidden cables. Something had come along and picked up our playhouse by one corner easiest thing in the world, and I supposed I should be grateful that the something hadn't decided to draw back its foot and kick the poor thing all the way over. It just picked up that one corner, you see. My stuff stayed put, but all of Jo's had slid . . . Out of the house and down here. ‘Jo?' I asked, and sat down in her chair. There was no answer. No thumps on the wall. No crows or owls calling from the woods. I put my hand on her desk, where the typewriter had been, and slipped my hand across it, picking up a film of dust. ‘I miss you, honey,' I said, and began to cry. When the tears were over again I wiped my face with the tail of my tee-shirt like a little kid, then just looked around. There was the picture of Sara Tidwell on her desk and a photo I didn't remember on the wall this latter was old, sepia-tinted, and woodsy. Its focal point was a man-high birchwood cross in a little clearing on a slope above the lake. That clearing was gone from the geography now, most likely, long since filled in by trees. I looked at her jars of herbs and mushroom sections, her filing cabinets, her sections of afghan. The green rag rug on the floor. The pot of pencils on the desk, pencils she had touched and used. I held one of them poised over a blank sheet of paper for a moment or two, but nothing happened. I had a sense of life in this room, and a sense of being watched . . . but not a sense of being helped. ‘I know some of it but not enough,' I said. ‘Of all the things I don't know, maybe the one that matters most is who wrote â€Å"help her† on the fridge. Was it you, Jo?' No answer. I sat awhile longer hoping against hope, I suppose then got up, turned off the air conditioning, turned off the lights, and went back to the house, walking in soft bright stutters of unfocused lightning. I sat on the deck for a little while, watching the night. At some point I realized I'd taken the length of blue silk ribbon out of my pocket and was winding it nervously back and forth between my fingers, making half-assed cat's cradles. Had it really come from the year 1900? The idea seemed perfectly crazy and perfectly sane at the same time. The night hung hot and hushed. I imagined old folks all over the TR perhaps in Motton and Harlow, too laying out their funeral clothes for tomorrow. In the doublewide trailer on Wasp Hill Road, Ki was sitting on the floor, watching a videotape of The Jungle Book Baloo and Mowgli were singing ‘The Bare Necessities.' Mattie was on the couch with her feet up, reading the new Mary Higgins Clark and singing along. Both were wea ring shorty pajamas, Ki's pink, Mattie's white. After a little while I lost my sense of them; it faded the way radio signals sometimes do late at night. I went into the north bedroom, undressed, and crawled onto the top sheet of my unmade bed. I fell asleep almost at once. I woke in the middle of the night with someone running a hot finger up and down the middle of my back. I rolled over and when the lightning flashed, I saw there was a woman in bed with me. It was Sara Tidwell. She was grinning. There were no pupils in her eyes. ‘Oh sugar, I'm almost back,' she whispered in the dark. I had a sense of her reaching out for me again, but when the next flash of lightning came, that side of the bed was empty.

Cathy Comes Home Essay Example

Cathy Comes Home Essay Example Cathy Comes Home Paper Cathy Comes Home Paper Essay Topic: The Breadwinner Cathy Comes Home How far do the portrayals of the officials as heartless and the likeable main characters make this documentary biased and propagandist? The documentary Cathy Comes Home was purposely made to raise awareness of the housing situations going on in 1966, and highlighted the difficulties of living. This is shown through the eyes of Cathy, a young woman battling against poverty but slides into homelessness while at the same time having a growing family to support and care for. The opening shot is an image of Cathy waiting to cross a road. There is a typical, happy 60s song acting as a non-diagetic background song underneath the sound of traffic driving past, which we can also see, moving across the shot. Cathys facial expressions are happy and carefree, which creates a good impression to the viewer and this portrayal continues throughout the documentary. We learn more about this character once she is looking at the town around her whilst in a car, with a voice-over on the clip. She informs the viewer of her thoughts on the town and her past experiences there of being touched up by a man for example, leading the viewer to believe she may have had a tough life so far. Quick shots of the towns people notifies the viewer that this is a working class area with a range of average citizens. So the documentary will most likely be in relation to this type of people. The positive image of Cathy is enhanced when we see her enjoying young love with her boyfriend, Reg. While close ups of them kissing are showing on the screen, romantic music is playing in the background to give a happy and comfortable feeling. We then see them together walking through a park talking about their bright future ahead of them however the camera moves down as they do this to show a homeless man sleeping on a bench. This sends the viewer an underlying message of poverty and that Cathy and Regs happiness will be short lived. There is next a voice over as they move into their new home, a well-established, expensive development after getting married and having plans for a happy life. The next stage in their life, having a baby, is usually seen as a wonderful part of life, however there is a subtle, unnerving sense that something is going to go wrong because it acts as a shock to her and then conversations of money begin to arise between the couple. The first instance where we find an official is when Cathy is at an interview about finding a house to live in, as she couldnt stay at the house her and her husband were living in. A point of view shot is used here to look over the mans shoulder at Cathys worried facial expressions as she is informed of the struggle she will have in getting a home to live in. This is used to make the viewer feel sympathetic towards the poor young woman. With no other choice, they move into Regs mothers house where the camera shows shots of the cramped conditions and different voice-overs of women explaining how the community used to be before the housing establishment collapsed. By doing this, the director informs the viewer of how big an impact it had on the community as well as displaying peoples views and opinions. Their stay ends after an argument between Cathy and her mother-in-law. In this scene, Cathy is sitting on her own with her son, suggesting that her husband may have been around less at this time, leaving her on her own to struggle with life. There is a slight uplift in the mood of the documentary when they find a new house to live in which Cathy says she likes. On the other hand, this is contrasted with shots of the bad conditions of the house, including dirt everywhere and cramped rooms. The viewer is then made to feel an ever-growing sympathy for Cathy, as she is in such a struggle that she settles for this place as her home for her family. The desperate feelings for Cathy only deepen as she is evicted out of her 3rd house, now with three children. By this point, images of Reg have become less and less frequent, suggesting a split in their relationship and Cathy being left to cope on her own more and more. A male authoritative voice over begins to reel off the facts and figures of waiting lists for houses in major cities while a long shot of Cathy walking up a hill, all alone, struggling with her children is shown. This informative clip explains the difficulties that the government officials had in housing people, while also giving an individual approach showing the struggle that the families have, creating a highly emotional image for viewers and putting them almost into the same situation. Typical values in a family are that the father plays the role of the breadwinner, whereas this is not the case for this struggling family when they resort to living in a caravan. The director has done this to contrast with our typical values of a family structure, stressing the difficulties they are going through. Close ups of other people living at the caravan are shown with wrinkled faces, suggesting that it is a hard life. A voice over is also used to enhance the viewers sympathy for the communities and resent toward the officials as we hear them complaining about gypsies living freely. A violent scene of caravan windows been smashed and burnt down gives the viewer a sense of shock and reality to the documentary, angering them that officials would go treat poverty issues that extremely. A contrast between the officials of the documentary and the poor people is shown when Cathy has an interview about getting inside a homeless shelter. The dominant officials are dressed in smart suits, looking very stern while she is dressed in dirty old clothes, with her children crying in the background. This creates the idea that both types of people are from completely different worlds, and neither could relate to each other in any way. A distinctively sad expression is shown in a close up on Cathy as opposed to her usual cheery face when she realises she will be split from her husband. Also, this downwardly progresses as we see her looking miserable as she moves into the shelter and for the first time we see her cry when her husband sneaks in. This increases the viewers desperation for the family and outraged at how the government handled the situations. Overall, the director of Cathy Come Home has taken the value of women being nurturing and loving and put a whole weight of burden and responsibility on one of them and shown their struggle having to uphold these values. By contrasting greatly the poverty side of Britain with the government officials and telling the story through Cathys eyes, he has made the viewers see and sympathise with her, while being angered at the lack of responsibility and amount of laziness the people in charge were.

Eco-Terrorism essays

Eco-Terrorism essays Eco-terrorism can be defined as terrorism or sabotage done in the name of environmental causes. So is that supposed to justify it? Is terrorism supposed to be a good thing as long as its for the environment? The answer of course is no, terrorism is never a good thing, regardless of the reason behind it. Eco-terrorist groups just use the Environment as a justification for the things they do, the illegal things. So how can these groups use the Environment as possible justification for their actions, are they really that pathetic? A bigger name group is the Earth Liberation Front, or ELF. They claim to be one of the larger eco-terror groups in the United States, and even go as far as to brag about their actions on their website. Causing massive amounts of damage when they strike, anywhere from the thousands to the millions, and showing no remorse. Only saying things such as IF YOU BUILD IT, WE WILL BURN IT, and of course leaving their initials (ELF) conveniently close by as a calling card. The front page of their web site even offers you a download on how to create a timer for a bomb, just as another way to cause damage in the name of the environment. They remain anonymous by staying in cells of several people and not reporting to some higher power, and since each cell is anonymous it keeps the activists out of jail. The belief that the Earth itself is more important then human lives is a common one in these terrorists, stating that they will do what they have to in order to protect the Earth, regardless of how much damage is done or how many could die. They think that by committing these actions that they are helping or fixing things, they blame Capitalism, they blame society, they blame people, so they take matters into their own hands in an effort to do what they feel is right. A well known (in modern times) eco-terrorist claimed that ever ...

Interview Nailing Your Digital Book Launch

Interview Nailing Your Digital Book Launch How To Nail Your Digital Book Launch: An interview with Mike Belsito When we chat with authors about their book launch, the same things often come up: a signing in a book store, a few giveaways to reviewers/journalists and an email to the mailing list. Authors rarely think about leveraging â€Å"existing platforms† to put their book in front of thousands of online readers; they’re often too shy to reach out to influencers, or are unsure about how to do it.So we decided to interview an author who decided to go for another approach. Mike Belsito carefully planned his book launch and had his book, â€Å"Startup Seed Funding for the Rest of Us†, rise to the top of Product Hunt and Amazon.He got some of the most influential people in his genre to spread the word about his launch - he didn’t know them personally before - and built a solid street team while writing the book that helped him take advantage of Amazon’s algorithms!Watch the video for a good dose of positive energy and startup creativity, or read some of the b est parts below. But more importantly, tell us about your own experience in the comments!What is the â€Å"product launch† mentality? How can it apply to books?â€Å"Well this is the first time that I’ve written a book. It has been a really interesting process, because I’ve launched several products before, but I’ve never written and launched a book. So I went about the process thinking really as if it was a product.Even in the beginning as I was writing it, I was constantly thinking: â€Å"how am I going to get the word out; how am I going to actually launch this?†. Fast-forwarding all the way to the end, the book launch was pretty successful, even though I was completely on my own (I’m an â€Å"indie author†). The book made it all the way to the top of Product Hunt, was featured on Inc Magazine and on Huffington Post. At one point, it was the #1 best selling startup book on Amazon.com, which was pretty amazing!†How did you go about creating an â€Å"insider group†?â€Å"There are a few things I did that I think ultimately really helped me. One of them was opening up the process to anybody who wanted to be part of it. I did this early on because writing this was awesome but it was also a lonely experience in that I was writing the book by myself.So I decided to create an â€Å"insider group†, for anybody who’d want to have an inside view of the process. They could literally have access to the Word file, and I’d bounce questions off the members of this group. That was incredibly helpful because it allowed me to get feedback throughout the whole writing process. It’s just like having a beta group for a product that you’re building.The good thing about this group is that when the time came to actually get the book out there, I already had a group of committed people who were all happy to spread the word!How did you communicate with this â€Å"insider group† vs other fans?I was keeping two separate lists: my insider group list, and a list of people who were interested in the book when it came out and who I signed on through my blog. Because I realized that not everybody wants to be involved in the creation process, some people just wanted to see the finished product. And I knew that there would be because in the product world, it’s the exact same thing: there’s a difference between early evangelists, early adopters and late adopters.Now the book is out there, these two lists are kind of one and the same, but should I write another book now, I’ll definitely be going back to that insider group to see if they want to sign up for the same experience.But how can this work in fiction?There’s this fiction author who I’ve met, Rebecca Howard, and she writes paranormal novels - basically ghost stories. She has the same sort of process, and it works for her because people who are generally interested in the para normal genre are often attracted to that part of the process too.She also uses a very similar process as I do to launch her books: she networks a lot with what I would call â€Å"influencers† in her genre. So maybe it works particularly well in non-fiction, but I think it can work in fiction as well.How do you actually get these â€Å"influencers† to promote your work?Well I once had a startup called eFuneral and we raised some startup capital. So I had some loose connections with some startup investors (VCs, angels, etc.), but very few would be considered â€Å"household names†. However, as I was starting to write this book - just like I had this group of beta readers - I sort of force-created another beta group of influencers.These people, whether they wanted to be or not, were in my influencer list. But I didn’t treat it like a list, I didn’t send mass emails or stuff like that. I only sent personal emails every now and then to these folks askin g for feedback: ‘Hey, I’m writing this book, it’s on a topic I’m really passionate about because of my background and I’d really love your feedback’.Throughout, some of these people did respond, and were supportive - even if just through some general encouragement. Of course, a lot of others wouldn’t even respond, but my hope was that by the time the book actually came out, some of them might be able to spread the word. This is no different to when I was raising capital and talking to angel investors and venture capitalists. Investors don’t like to invest in companies that they’ve just heard of for the first time ever. Usually, they like to meet you early on and then follow your progress. So that’s how I was trying to treat the book.About 3-4 weeks before the book launch, I sent all of them a draft of the book so they could have early access to it. And once the book was live on Amazon, I sent another email to each of them saying â€Å"hey, I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to read the book, but if so,   I would love an honest review from you and it’d be amazing if you could help me spread the word about the launch.† I made it easy for them to do that, using to just create a link that they could click to get a pre-made tweet.Sure enough, on the morning of the book launch, there were 3 or 4 major influencers who either tweeted about the book or retweeted one of my posts! These were people like Brad Feld, Mark Suster and Steve Case. They absolutely helped me move the needle.How did you keep this great momentum after your book launch?That’s really what I’m focusing on right now, and trying to see if there are things I could be doing differently. I’ve been grateful to be asked to go on all sorts of podcasts. I don’t know if that will move the needle or not, but I’ll continue to do it because I love doing it.I think a book tour could be interesting. In my case, I think I wouldn’t do a traditional book tour, but rather a series of Meetups. I could definitely see myself doing a series of Meetups in different cities on ‘raising startup seed capital’. I’d want to keep it very organic. Startup events and speaking opportunities are another thing I’ll look for.In terms of other ways, I have been asked to write for other publications (like startups.co), so that’s exciting. But I also try to think about this in different ways too: ‘what can I do that’s completely different and hasn’t been done before’?It’s really the point that I’m at, so what I’m going to do is I’m going to try out a bunch of things and I’ll let you know in a couple of months what has worked and what has not!Follow Mike and Reedsy on Twitter:  @belsito  and  @ReedsyHQHave you developed a core reading group like Mike’s â€Å"insider group†? Does it help you launch your books? Have you tried reaching out to influencers in your genre? Share your thoughts, or any question for Mike, in the comments below!

Environmental effects of oil pollution Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2500 words

Environmental effects of oil pollution - Essay Example The coastal vegetations, tidal forest, and marine ecology are worse hit. It is widely known that oil spills are causing wide-ranging destruction to wild animals and marine life. Hence considerable preparation and rigid laws are required to conquer this huge problem. Attempts are being made to predict the oil spills and their devastating effects, which can curb the menace of oil pollution to some extent. Still, the international community is required to remain more alert and agile. Apparently, the best approach to deal with the detrimental impact of oil spills to the environment is to significantly lessen oil spills. To effectively minimize oil spillage demands appropriate training and effectual planning. Environmental Effects of Oil Pollution Introduction Combustion of fossil fuels is a major problem in the context of today’s environment. This major threat to the environmental sustainability is indeed an indirect result of oil pollution. Oil pollution has direct effects too. T here are numerous sources of oil pollution. Oil pollution can pollute the oceans, seas, soil, and underground water streams. Moreover, combustion of petroleum, gasoline, and diesel causes large scale air pollution. The pollutants in the air again settle into the water bodies and soil with the lapse of time by means of convection, condensation, and rain. Oil pollution due to the oil spills caused by the accidents of oil tankers and rigs is another major threat to the environment. Since the conveyance of crude oil and petroleum is mainly conducted through the waterways, accidents of oil tankers cause huge amounts of oil to get mixed in the waters of the seas and oceans (Fleming 2010). This is the main feature of oil pollution – even through pollution in the soil; the petroleum agents ultimately reach the underground water streams. In the case of the oil spills, varieties of the sea birds and animals are immensely affected. Oil pollution adversely affects the marine ecology, cau sing death to thousands of organisms (Baker 1978). It damages the natural treasures like coral reef and harms the aquatic animals like fishes, plankton, reptiles, etc. Humans can be seriously affected by taking polluted sea food. Moreover, pollution caused by the combustion of petroleum is also highly injurious to human health. In this relation, it can be further mentioned that the economic dimensions of losses due to major oil spills are considerably high (Pezeshki et al. 2000). The economic losses hamper both the industries and the financial expenditure in the various environmental reconstruction processes. Sometimes, the estimation of these losses is rather difficult. In a nutshell, effects of oil pollution are multifaceted and need to be discussed in detail. Literature Review Large scale of oil pollution particularly due to the oil spills and tanker accidents damages the oceans and seas considerably. Not only that, the petroleum agents would reach the shores and harm the coastal ecology as well. Hundreds and thousands of aquatic animals, sea birds, and plants are adversely affected. This effect of oil pollution is discernable in the US Gulf coast (Pezeshki et al. 2000). Oil spills have taken place in this region, so the effects of oil spills and clean up have manifested as environmental hazard in this part of the world. Hence, plant response to