Soap operas

Soap operas Whether you admit it or not, everyone has seen at least fifteen minutes of a soap opera in their lifetime. Who hasn't had one of those days where they're sitting at home, flipping through channels when they sort of pause to take a peek at what's happening on the latest episode of Days of Our Lives. The funniest thing though, is when they hear someone coming; the television is suddenly set to much music. Sure it may sound dumb changing channels, but hey I actually know people who do that, especially guys. Notice that practically all guys will say they have never seen a single episode of a soap opera, but all of a sudden if you catch them off guard they're the first ones to tell you what happened to Sammy and Austin on yesterdays episode of Days of Our Lives. But of course, they cover with the simple manly answer that they only watch the soap opera because they have "hot chicks".The Young and the Restless

How to Make Blueprint Paper

How to Make Blueprint Paper Blueprint paper is a specially-coated paper that turns blue where it is exposed to light, while areas kept in the dark remain white. Blueprints were one of the first ways to make copies of plans or drawings. Heres how to make blueprint paper yourself. Blueprint Paper Materials 15 mL of 10% potassium hexacyanoferrate(III) (potassium ferricyanide)15 mL of 10% iron(III) ammonium citrate solutionPetri dishWhitepaperTongs or small paintbrushSmall opaque object (e.g., coin, leaf, key) Make Blueprint Paper In a very dim room or in the dark: pour the potassium ferricyanide and iron(III) ammonium citrate solutions together into a petri dish. Stir the solution to mix it.Use tongs to drag a sheet of paper across the top of the mixture or else paint the solution onto the paper using a paintbrush.Allow the sheet of blueprint paper to dry, coated side up, in the dark. To keep the paper from being exposed to light and to keep it flat as it dries, it may help to set the wet sheet of paper on a larger piece of cardboard and cover it with another piece of cardboard.When you are ready to capture the image, uncover the top of the paper and overlay an ink drawing on clear plastic or tracing paper or else simply set an opaque object on the blueprint paper, such as a coin or key.Now expose the blueprint paper to direct sunlight. Remember: for this to work the paper must have remained in the dark until this point! If its windy you may need to weigh down the paper to keep the object in place.Allow the p aper to develop in the sunlight for about 20 minutes, then cover the paper and return to the darkened room. Thoroughly rinse the blueprint paper under cold running water. Its fine to have the lights on. If you do not rinse away any unreacted chemicals, the paper will darken over time and ruin the image. However, if all the excess chemicals are rinsed away, youll be left with a permanent colorfast image of your object or design.Allow the paper to dry. Cleanup and Safety The materials for making a blueprint (cyanotype) paper are safe to work with, but its a good idea to wear gloves since youll be working in the dark and might otherwise cyanotype your hands (turn them temporarily blue). Also, dont drink the chemicals. They are not particularly toxic, but they are not food. Wash your hands when you are done with this project.

World civilization Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

World civilization - Essay Example Apart from distance another important factor was strong devotion of Russians towards their Byzantine legacy and Orthodox traditions. Russians developed important parallels with the western society. Russians had strong belief towards their political unification because they were under the rule of single prince and single dynasty during the particular period (Anderson 21). After the death of the prince, the powerful Kievan principality disintegrated into opposing political units. Russia created a structure of rules, which was virtually unknown by the European countries. The differences between Russia and Europe continued for a long period of time from 1250 to 1700. The absolute monarchy prevailed roughly under the rule of Peter the Great during the eighteenth century. The style of ruling empire was completely different from several western countries, such as France or Prussia that left the ruling style diverse. From the above discussion it is clear that the ruling style of Russia was different from western countries due to various factors including large distance between the countries and strong adherence towards their orthodox

Taxation and you must use Ireland taxation to do this essay

Taxation and you must use Ireland taxation to do this - Essay Example Failure to retain it, it will expose Sonya to parents original CGT that was evaded by Retirement Relief and any CGT liability on their own disposal. This implies that there will be no capital gains tax liability when Tom transfers the business to Sonya. Disposal of shares in family trading company to Sonya will require standard qualifying conditions, control voting rights requirement and working directorship for 10 year and 5 year periods. Sonya must also own 25% or more of the voting rights in the company or own 10% or more of the voting rights in the company. In addition, the family must own 75% or more which includes the individual’s own 10% throughout the 10 year qualifying period. ii) The transfer of the business to the local businessman is also qualifying since Sonya is above 55 years and it involves the transfer of shares in the family trading company. Disposal to others are exempt from CGT if the gross sales proceeds from qualifying assets during the individual’s lifetime from the age of 55 onwards does not exceed â‚ ¬750,000. In the case of sale to the local businessman, the amount of 850,000 exceeds the set limit of 750,000. The capital gains tax liability will be calculated as follows b) If Tom transfers his business to his daughter, there will be no capital gains tax liability, but when he sells the business to the local businessman there is a capital gains tax liability of 50,000. This can be analyzed in the sense that an increase in the capital gains tax liability minimizes tax liabilities. Therefore, Tom should consider selling the business to the local businessman so that he can minimise the tax liabilities. It will also help to minimise the requirements of directorship and control of voting rights. There is no consideration if Sonya agrees with Tom to take over the business now since it is within the family and she has worked for 5 years plus the current year. However, if Sonya

Workplace bullying Essay Example for Free

Workplace bullying Essay Background of the study: Workplace bullying is a problem and is an important organizational and social concern. This study examined workplace bullying and its effect on job performance and productivity. The research showed how bullying behavior affects a target’s ability to perform their jobs, which can impact the morale of employees and the financial performances of an organization. Workplace bullying is difficult to identify and contain because the harassment usually takes place covertly, many times out of sight of supervisors and coworkers. The central findings of this study (a) showed the frequency of workplace bullying, (b) factors contribute to workplace bullying, (c) respondents perceive level of job perfromance, and (d) revealed a relationship between workplace bullying and its effect on job performance and productivity, (e) discover coping strategies of bully victims. A 2002 survey of 9,000 Canadian federal employees indicated that 42% of female and 15% of male employees reported being bullied in a 2-year period, resulting in more than $180 million in lost time and productivity (Canada Safety Council, 2002). According to Namie and Namie (2003), 82% of employees who had been bullied left their workplace: 38% for health reasons and 44% because they were victims of a low performance appraisal manipulated by a bullying supervisor to show them as incompetent. High turnover of employees can be costly for organizations. Human resource experts calculate the cost of losing and replacing a worker from 25% to 200% of annual compensation, depending on the level of the employee (Melone, 2006). The workplace presents opportunities for a wide range of insidious and intimidating bully tactics. Research indicates a relationship between employee perceptions of bullying and his or her need to spend time at work defending themselves, networking for support, contemplating the circumstances, becoming demotivated and stressed, and taking sick leave (Namie Namie; Needham, 2003; Rigby, 2002). Theoretical/Conceptual Framework: This paper applies Novak’s (1998) theory of learning to the problem of workplace bullying. Novak’s theory offers an understanding of how actions of bullying and responses to bullying can be seen as deriving from individualized conceptualizations of workplace bullying by those involved.  Further, Novak’s theory suggests that training involving Ausubel’s concept of meaningful learning (Ausubel Educational Theory 11(1): 15–25, 1961; Ausubel et al. 1978) which attends to learners’ pre-existing knowledge and allows for new meaning to be constructed regarding workplace bullying can lead to new actions related to workplace bullying. Ideally, these new actions can involve both a reduction in workplace bullying prevalence, and responses to workplace bullying which recognize and are informed by the negative consequences of this workplace dynamic. Second approach that we used is In â€Å"Harassment and Bullying at Work: a Review of the Scandinavian Approach† Einarsen (2000) presents three different causal models that have been used in Scandinavia, namely emphasizing personality traits of the exposed, general characteristics of human interaction in organizations and organizational climate. The first model explores characteristics of the victim and/or offender, and claims that some people are more in the risk zone of being bullied because of their personality. Certain personality traits, such as lower self-esteem, anxiety in social settings and suspiciousness, are claimed to be more common among victims of bullying. As for the offender authoritarian personalities that often react impulsively with aggressiveness, are examples of personality traits that have been discovered in this field of study. Different studies have brought out different traits so there is no confirmation of some traits being more valid than others. Furthermore â€Å"the issue of personality traits in relation to harassment at work is a controversial one, especially as far as the victim is concerned and the position on personality traits as precursors of harassment has been seriously questioned† (Einarsen, 2000:389). The second model is built on the observation that although conflict is a phenomenon found in all organizations, only in some cases interpersonal conflicts lead to battles where the goal is to demolish the other (Einarsen, 2000). Since conflicts are seen as a natural component of organizations this model claims that there are certain human characteristics that are inherent and affects organizations. Some researcher even go as far as saying that harassment is an inherent human characteristic, and therefore believes that attempts to eliminate workplace bullying is useless. Another argument is that scapegoats play an important social role for the organizational climate and it brings other organizational members t ogether (Einarsen, 2000). It  should be noted that the scapegoats does not necessarily have to be an organizational member; it can be an external person or organization, or even an object. Both Leymann (1992) and Einarsen et al. (1994) argue that unresolved interpersonal conflicts threaten to end up in harassments. Whether harassment might be an inherent human characteristic is yet to be explored. A third possibility is that harassment is triggered aftermath from other organizational conflicts (Einarsen, 2000). The third model has received the most attention in Scandinavia, and it stresses the role that organizational factors and work conditions play, such as social environment, workload, or division of tasks. Workplace bullying in this model – is looked upon as caused by the organization itself, that is, by structural and other problems within the organization (Einarsen, 2000). Studies have shown that some factors may be more significant than others for the presence of bullying at work (2000). Leadership, role conflicts, and work control were brought out by Einarsen et al. (1994) to be contributing factors to workplace bullying. Other factors may still be important though, bullying might for example be more likely to occur if the jargon in the workplace in general is more aggressive. The approach of organizational work environment says that organizations with ill conditions might increase workplace bullying. It also suggests that workplace bullying is more likely to occur in particular 15 organizational settings (Einarsen, 2000). These three different models can alone be seen as narrow and one-sided, but Einarsen (2000) stresses the importance for future research to focus on sever al factors, both organizational and personal. Another way of understanding work place bullying is by using Gidden’s Structuration Theory to provide a basis for examining the social processes involved in the approaches adopted by organizations to manage workplace bullying. Giddens’ framework involves a series of stages, with the possibility of barriers between each of the stages. Within this theory strategies between the stages and tactics within the stages could be developed to address the problem of workplace bullying. In 1984, sociologist Giddens presented his theory of Structuration (Giddens, 1984). In simple terms his theory outlines the social processes involved in the evolution of aspects of society. A key component of his theory is the double hermeneutic  process, where people, upon reflection of day to day activities, are able to influence the structure of society by either reproducing current practices or by changing them. School and workplace bullying have a long history within our society and recent ideas have been advanced that challenge the appropriateness of such traditional behavior. Turner (1991) analyzed Giddens’ work and produced a diagrammatic model of his Theory of Structuration. The model with its 11 sensitizing concepts is illustrated in Figure 1. It is proposed in this study to use Turner’s model, which consists of inter-linked but discrete concepts, to provide a framework for illuminating how a social issue, such as workplace bullying, can be managed within an organization. To elucidate the study, below is a schematic diagram that shows how the information gathered is utilized: Figure 2 Conceptual Framework Figure 2 presents the conceptual framework for this study. The researchers believe that the factors contributing to work place bullying can affect the level of performance of such employee. Factors such as abuse of power, self-esteem, perceived threats and organizational culture may affect ones quality of work, productivity, and quality of family-work life. But the diagram also shows degree of coping strategies such as depression, physical injury, and self-expression. Statement of the Problem: This study aimed to investigate the effect of workplace bullying on employees job performance and their coping strategies in the random call center agents in Davao City. It specifically sought to answer the following questions. 1. What are the factors that contribute to workplace bullying in terms of: a. Power; b. Self-esteem; and c. Perceived Threats 2. What are the respondents perceive level of job performance as to: a. Quality of work; b. Productivity; and c. Quality of family work life 3. What is the respondent perceive degree of coping strategies employed regards to: a. Depression; b. Physical injury; and c. Self-Expression Proposed Hypothesis: H1; the factors that contributed to workplace bullying do significantly affect the respondents’ perceived degree of coping strategies employed as to: A.) Depression B.) Productivity C.) Quality of family-work life. Objectives: To know the factors that contributes to workplace bullying in terms of power, self-esteem and perceived threats. To know the respondent’s perceived level of job performance as to quality of work, productivity and quality of family-work life? To know the degree of respondent’s perceived degree of coping strategies employed with regards to depression, physical injury and self-expression. SIGNIFICANCE OF THE STUDY VICTIMS OF WORKPLACE BULLYING. This study will be useful to the people who are victims of bullying so that they will be able to develop or imitate the coping strategies of the victims with regard to depression, physical injury and self-expression. The reasons also being revealed why workplace bullying is existing in a particular company will help us to analyze in gathering data that can eradicate or lessen such issue. This study defines the impact of workplace bullying behavior on work productivity, quality of work within  a company THE COMPANY. The company will benefit to this study because this will identify reasons or factors of workplace bullying that need to be considered or to act upon. They can improve in identifying the effects of workplace bullying in employees’ peceived level of job performance as to quality of work, productivity and quality-work life. In this study the management can make decisions and strategy to eradicate bullying in the workplace in order to provide healthy relationships within the company. It also helps the organization to be aware on how to give insightful ways to eliminate this harmful behavior. It helps the company to be challenged to create policies regarding workplace bullying. THE FUTURE RESEACHERS OF THIS SUBJECT MATTER. This will help future researchers to gather secondary data and gain ideas. Scope and Limitations of the Study The proposed study will be limited only on the random people who worked in call center industry. This study will be limited only to the selected call center company within Davao City area. This study adds to the body of knowledge regarding adult bullying behavior in the workplace. Data from this research provide leaders and managers’ insight into the prevalence of the mistreatment of employees and how it affects the productivity of their workers.

My Educational Philosophy :: Philosophy Education Teaching Teachers Essays

My Educational Philosophy As a child, it is hard to understand adults’ intentions. Whether it is punishing a young child for running out in the street or even directing them not to leave toys on the staircase, adults have a profound authority over children, which is sometimes misunderstood. Adults instill vital qualities in children. Though children may disregard adults’ authority at first, at one point in their lives, they will understand the reasoning behind it all. At the age of 5, I began to realize that the adults in my environment were reflecting the virtue of patience upon me. My parents were teachers. My father taught High School Electronics. My mother had a class of preschoolers. Both had to maintain a calm manner while dealing with their students, and it was necessary for them to have a great deal of patience. As my mother drove me to Kindergarten one morning, I looked out the car window. I noticed my teacher surrounded with children on the playground. She was not pointing her finger and directing them to go play, but instead, she was laughing with them. At the age of 5, I was realizing that patience was a quality that teachers must have. As I grew older, I noticed this virtue of patience more often. No matter how difficult the class full of students became, the teachers took charge with grace. As many children do, I looked up to my parents as well as teachers. These adults were here to guide me through life. I admired them for their patience and determination to help me succeed. They held the key to my future, and offered it with an open hand. Watching my parents work on lesson plans, and hearing them speak of memorable classroom moments, intrigued me. They enjoyed their job so much, that it was beginning to rub off on me! I, too, was starting to love the life of a teacher. I wanted to, one day, come home and know that I had made a difference in someone's life. I wanted to organize exciting activities to help others learn. I wanted to stay up at the wee hours of the night grading papers. Believe it or not, I wanted to be a teacher! I knew that I would have to work hard, and stay focused in school.

Several of the poems from Different Cultures seem to be encouraging people to discover their true selves and their place in society

Several of the poems from different cultures seem to be encouraging people to discover their true selves and their place in society. Love after Love, Hurricane hits England and Search for my Tongue are among those poems. These poems written by different poets encourage people to discover their true selves and their place in society by using many techniques such as interesting word and phrase selection (language), thoughtful imagery to convey messages, using descriptions focussing on sounds and using structure to create an effect. Also, the poets use their own cultural experiences to convey their message especially Hurricane hits England and Search for my Tongue. The three poems are all from different cultures and traditions therefore it is important to look at the cultural context of the poems. Love after Love is a poem wrote by Derek Walcott, much of Walcott's work has explored issues of Caribbean cultural identity. He has remarked, ‘The process of poetry is one of excavation and self- discovery'. Hurricane hits England is a poem written by the Caribbean born writer Grace Nichols, who moved to England in the 1970s and now lives in the coast of Sussex. In 1987, the southern coast of England was hit by hurricane winds, these hurricane winds were rarely experienced in England, in the Caribbean, on the other hand, hurricanes are a regular occurrence and had been part of Grace Nichols' childhood. Concerning the 1987 English hurricane, the poet felt that the voices of the old gods were in the wind, specifically within the Sussex, in fact, for the first time she sensed a closeness to the English landscape like never before, and felt that the Caribbean had come to England. She now feels at home both in Guyana and in England. Search for my Tongue is a poem written by Sujata Bhatt. The poet was born in Gujarat, India, where her ‘mother tongue' or native language was Gujarati. Later, her family lived for some years in the United States, where she learnt English although she now lives in Germany. She wrote Search for my Tongue at a time when she was beginning to worry that she might lose her original language. She has always thought of herself as being in Indian who is outside India. Her mother tongue is, for her, an important link to her family and to her childhood. It is the deepest layer of her identity, she has claimed. The poets use language in their poems to encourage people to discover their true selves and their place in society. Love after love is a poem written in the second person, as if the poet is addressing the reader directly' Writing to ‘you' rather than talking about ‘me' gives the impression that the poet is offering advice to everyone. The poem is full of imperative verbs or commands: ‘sit' (lines 6 and 15), ‘Eat' (line 6), ‘give' (line 8), ‘Take' (line 12), ‘Peel' (line 14) and ‘Feast' (line 15). Derek Walcott is encouraging every reader to go through this process of self discovery, to ‘feast' on the opportunities that one's real self can enjoy, and to ‘sit' and feel comfortable with it. Hurricane Hits England varies its style of language, the first stanza is in the third person whereas the second stanza is in the first person when we ‘hear' the woman's voice. There are some contradictions in the poem. For example, the woman says that the wind is both ‘fearful and reassuring' (line 7), and, at first sight, these two words do not seem to make sense together in what could be called a paradox. This contradiction may be demonstrating that the woman, too, is unsure what her feelings are towards the hurricane, her thoughts are also contradictory. The woman asks many questions between lines 13 and 27, in each of these four questions, the poet is trying to make sense of what is happening. The exclamations towards the end help us to understand how the woman is feeling and contribute to the tone of the poem. She becomes excited, even ecstatic, at the power of the storm and the thoughts it arouses within her, ‘O why is my heart unchained? ‘, (line 27). Questions asked in lines 13 to 27 are answered in the final lines, ‘Come to let me know. That the earth is the earth is the earth'. The poet means that she finally feels at home in England, and that wherever you may find yourself on this planet, you will eventually find peace with your place in society. Search for my tongue uses the word ‘tongue' for many different meanings. The poet, Sujata Bhatt, plays with these different meanings. For example, she imagines that knowing two languages is like having ‘two tongues in your mouth' (line 4) and speaks of her original language as being her ‘mother tongue' (line 5). The poem begins colloquially, using everyday language, but then develops to employing striking imagery and language. The poem begins by appearing to answer a question- ‘You ask me what I mean†¦ ‘ (line1). If you are replying to a question someone has posed, you would use natural speech. However, if you really want to get your message across, you should turn the question back on the questioner- ‘I ask you, what would you do†¦ ‘ (line 3). The poet uses ‘shock tactics' or such striking images to do that. It could be said that if the poem says more or less the same thing twice in two languages, then it might just is well be written in only one language. However, the whole point of the poem would then be lost. The same thing being said in two languages is the key, the poet has ‘two tongues' and she doesn't want to loose one of them. Imaginative imagery is used in all three of the poems to encourage people to discover their true selves and their place in society. In Love after Love the poet uses images of feasting throughout the poem. This is because a meal, especially an intimate one between two people, is an important form of social interaction in which people can get to know each other. Therefore it is natural that the dining room scenario is used for getting to know your true self. This is a very happy poem and presents a particularly positive image of the later years in life, portraying them not as a time of loss, but one of fulfilment and recovery. In Search for my tongue the poet uses the imagery of comparing her tongue with a plant as she develops her ideas. She compares it by using an extended metaphor. You can almost imagine the ‘plant', first in decline, then growing again. This image of the plant is successful because it includes contrasts. Some of the imagery is quite startling, for instance, when she imagines that the ‘mother tongue' might ‘rot and die in her mouth' (lines 12 and 13) as the second foreign language takes over. The lost tongue grows back at night when she dreams in Gujarati, like a plant that appears to have died, but then starts to bud and grow strong again, producing beautiful blossoms. Hurricane Hits England is full of natural imagery, mainly because it is about the effect of the wind on the landscape. For example, ‘trees/ falling heavy as whales' (line 23-24) is effective because the huge trees become like floating sea creatures when the torrential rain that accompanies the hurricane makes the land become almost like sea. There is also a lot of symbolism wrapped up in the imagery, ‘Come to break the frozen lake in me' (line 33). This may indicate that the poet has been ‘frozen' by being away from her own country, so that the arrival of the hurricane can help to ‘break the ice' and allow her to live more comfortably in her new home country. The poets use descriptions focussing on sounds to encourage people to discover their true selves and their place in society. In Love after Love repetition is the device used by the poet in this poem as a sound effect. He repeats some words, or variations of them- ‘mirror' (lines 4 and 14), ‘stranger' (line 7 and 9). ‘love'/ ‘loved'/ ‘love-letters' (lines 7/9/12) and ‘life' (lines 10 and 15). This is the poet's way of emphasising the main stages of the self-discovery process. Hurricane Hits England varies the way it sounds, the first stanza is in the third person whereas the second stanza is in the first person when we ‘hear' the woman's voice. All three poems have their own specific structure, the structures of the poems are organised in orders of ideas in the poem and how they develop. In Love after Love the stanza form is irregular, but most lines are loosely iambic. This means that there is one short unstressed syllable followed by one long stressed syllable. Some of the lines are also quite regular tetrameter- for example, lines 8 and 13. The poem is split into four small sized stanzas whereas Search for my tongue is split into three large stanzas. In the first stanza she tells us how hard it is for her to know two languages and how she has neglected the one she feels most belongs to her. In the second stanza she explains these ideas in Gujarati. In the final stanza she then translates her thoughts for us into English, lines 31-39 meaning something similar to lines 17-30, showing that although her ‘mother tongue' (line 38) dies during the day, it ‘grows back' ( line 31) in her dreams at night, becoming strong and producing ‘blossoms' (line 39). Of all these three poems Hurricane Hits England is the largest. The poem is written in eight stanzas of varying lengths. The lines themselves are also of varying lengths. This irregularity helps us to see how unpredictable the hurricane is, and how unpredictable the woman's thoughts are. The first stanza of the poem is in the third person, as the reader is introduced to the woman, but the majority of it is written in the 1st person. Love after Love, Search for my tongue and Hurricane Hits England are three poems from Different Cultures which encourage people to discover their true selves and their place in society. The poets who wrote the poems do this by, the poetic devices they use, significant use of language and imagery and significant use of style and structure. All of these ideas and style are influenced by the poets' cultural backgrounds.

Black House Chapter Three

3 OUT TYLER'S WINDOW we go, away from Libertyville, flying southwest on a diagonal, not lingering now but really flapping those old wings, flying with a purpose. We're headed toward the heliograph flash of early-morning sun on the Father of Waters, also toward the world's largest six-pack. Between it and County Road Oo (we can call it Nail-house Row if we want; we're practically honorary citizens of French Landing now) is a radio tower, the warning beacon on top now invisible in the bright sunshine of this newborn July day. We smell grass and trees and warming earth, and as we draw closer to the tower, we also smell the yeasty, fecund aroma of beer. Next to the radio tower, in the industrial park on the east side of Peninsula Drive, is a little cinder-block building with a parking lot just big enough for half a dozen cars and the Coulee patrol van, an aging Ford Econoline painted candy-apple pink. As the day winds down and afternoon wears into evening, the cylindrical shadows of the six-pack will fall first over the sign on the balding lawn facing the drive, then the building, then the parking lot. KDCU-AM, this sign reads, YOUR TALK VOICE IN COULEE COUNTRY. Spray-painted across it, in a pink that almost matches the patrol van, is a fervent declaration: TROY LUVS MARYANN! YES! Later on, Howie Soule, the U-Crew engineer, will clean this off (probably during the Rush Limbaugh show, which is satellite fed and totally automated), but for now it stays, telling us all we need to know about small-town luv in middle America. Looks like we found something nice after all. Coming out of the station's side door as we arrive is a slender man dressed in pleated khaki Dockers, a tieless white shirt of Egyptian cotton buttoned all the way to the neck, and maroon braces (they are as slim as he is, those braces, and far too cool to be called suspenders; suspenders are vulgar things worn by such creatures as Chipper Maxton and Sonny Heartfield, down at the funeral home). This silver-haired fellow is also wearing a very sharp straw fedora, antique but beautifully kept. The maroon hatband matches his braces. Aviator-style sunglasses cover his eyes. He takes a position on the grass to the left of the door, beneath a battered speaker that is amping KDCU's current broadcast: the local news. This will be followed by the Chicago farm report, which gives him ten minutes before he has to settle in behind the mike again. We watch in growing puzzlement as he produces a pack of American Spirit cigarettes from his shirt pocket and fires one up with a gold lighter. Surely this elegant fellow in the braces, Dockers, and Bass Weejuns cannot be George Rathbun. In our minds we have already built up a picture of George, and it is one of a fellow very different from this. In our mind's eye we see a guy with a huge belly hanging over the white belt of his checked pants (all those ballpark bratwursts), a brick-red complexion (all those ballpark beers, not to mention all that bellowing at the dastardly umps), and a squat, broad neck (perfect for housing those asbestos vocal cords). The George Rathbun of our imagination and all of Coulee Country's, it almost goes without saying is a pop-eyed, broad-assed, wild-haired, leather-lunged, Rolaids-popping, Chevy-driving, Republican-voting heart attack waiting to happen, a churning urn of sports trivia, mad enthusiasms, crazy prejudices, and high cholesterol. This fellow is not that fellow. This fellow moves like a dancer. This fellow is iced tea on a hot day, cool as the king of spades. But say, that's the joke of it, isn't it? Uh-huh. The joke of the fat dee-jay with the skinny voice, only turned inside out. In a very real sense, George Rathbun does not exist at all. He is a hobby in action, a fiction in the flesh, and only one of the slim man's multiple personalities. The people at KDCU know his real name and think they're in on the joke (the punch line of course being George's trademark line, the even-a-blind-man thing), but they don't know the half of it. Nor is this a metaphorical statement. They know exactly one-third of it, because the man in the Dockers and the straw fedora is actually four people. In any case, George Rathbun has been the saving of KDCU, the last surviving AM station in a predatory FM market. For five mornings a week, week in and week out, he has been a drive-time bonanza. The U-Crew (as they call themselves) love him just about to death. Above him, the loudspeaker cackles on: † still no leads, according to Chief Dale Gilbertson, who has called Herald reporter Wendell Green ? ®an out-of-town fearmonger who is more interested in selling papers than in how we do things in French Landing.' â€Å"Meanwhile, in Arden, a house fire has taken the lives of an elderly farmer and his wife. Horst P. Lepplemier and his wife, Gertrude, both eighty-two . . .† â€Å"Horst P. Lepplemier,† says the slim man, drawing on his cigarette with what appears to be great enjoyment. â€Å"Try saying that one ten times fast, you moke.† Behind him and to his right, the door opens again, and although the smoker is still standing directly beneath the speaker, he hears the door perfectly well. The eyes behind the aviator shades have been dead his whole life, but his hearing is exquisite. The newcomer is pasty-faced and comes blinking into the morning sun like a baby mole that has just been turned out of its burrow by the blade of a passing plow. His head has been shaved except for the Mo-hawk strip up the center of his skull and the pigtail that starts just above the nape of his neck and hangs to his shoulder blades. The Mohawk has been dyed bright red; the ‘tail is electric blue. Dangling from one ear-lobe is a lightning-bolt earring that looks suspiciously like the Nazi S.S. insignia. He is wearing a torn black T-shirt with a logo that reads SNIVELLING SHITS '97: THE WE GET HARD FOR JESUS TOUR. In one hand this colorful fellow has a CD jewel box. â€Å"Hello, Morris,† says the slim man in the fedora, still without turning. Morris pulls in a little gasp, and in his surprise looks like the nice Jewish boy that he actually is. Morris Rosen is the U-Crew's summer intern from the Oshkosh branch of UW. â€Å"Man, I love that unpaid grunt labor!† station manager Tom Wiggins has been heard to say, usually while rubbing his hands together fiendishly. Never has a checkbook been guarded so righteously as the Wigger guards the KDCU check-book. He is like Smaug the Dragon reclining on his heaps of gold (not? that there are heaps of anything in the ‘DCU accounts; it bears repeating to say that, as an AM talker, the station is lucky just to be alive). Morris's look of surprise it might be fair to call it uneasy surprise dissolves into a smile. â€Å"Wow, Mr. Leyden! Good grab! What a pair of ears!† Then he frowns. Even if Mr. Leyden who's standing directly beneath the outside honker, can't forget that heard someone come out, how in God's name did he know which someone it was? â€Å"How'd you know it was me?† he asks. â€Å"Only two people around here smell like marijuana in the morning,† Henry Leyden says. â€Å"One of them follows his morning smoke with Scope; the other that's you, Morris just lets her rip.† â€Å"Wow,† Morris says respectfully. â€Å"That is totally bitchrod.† â€Å"I am totally bitchrod,† Henry agrees. He speaks softly and thoughtfully. â€Å"It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. In regard to your morning rendezvous with the undeniably tasty Thai stick, may I offer an Appalachian aphorism?† â€Å"Go, dude.† This is Morris's first real discussion with Henry Leyden, who is every bit the head Morris has been told to expect. Every bit and more. It is no longer so hard to believe that he could have another identity . . . a secret identity, like Bruce Wayne. But still . . . this is just so pimp. â€Å"What we do in our childhood forms as a habit,† Henry says in the same soft, totally un?CGeorge Rathbun voice. â€Å"That is my advice to you, Morris.† â€Å"Yeah, totally,† Morris says. He has no clue what Mr. Leyden is talking about. But he slowly, shyly, extends the CD jewel box in his hand. For a moment, when Henry makes no move to take it, Morris feels crushed, all at once seven years old again and trying to wow his always-too-busy father with a picture he has spent all afternoon drawing in his room. Then he thinks, He's blind, dickweed. He may be able to smell pot on your breath and he may have ears like a bat, but how's he supposed to know you're holding out a fucking CD? Hesitantly, a bit frightened by his own temerity, Morris takes Henry's wrist. He feels the man start a little, but then Leyden allows his hand to be guided to the slender box. â€Å"Ah, a CD,† Henry says. â€Å"And what is it, pray tell?† â€Å"You gotta play the seventh track tonight on your show,† Morris says. â€Å"Please.† For the first time, Henry looks alarmed. He takes a drag on his cigarette, then drops it (without even looking of course, ha ha) into the sand-filled plastic bucket by the door. â€Å"What show could you possibly mean?† he asks. Instead of answering directly, Morris makes a rapid little smacking noise with his lips, the sound of a small but voracious carnivore eating something tasty. And, to make things worse, he follows it with the Wisconsin Rat's trademark line, as well known to the folks in Morris's age group as George Rathbun's hoarse â€Å"Even a blind man† cry is known to their elders: â€Å"Chew it up, eat it up, wash it down, it aaallll comes out the same place!† He doesn't do it very well, but there's no question who he's doing: the one and only Wisconsin Rat, whose evening drive-time program on KWLA-FM is famous in Coulee Country (except the word we probably want is â€Å"infamous†). KWLA is the tiny college FM station in La Riviere, hardly more than a smudge on the wallpaper of Wisconsin radio, but the Rat's audience is huge. And if anyone found out that the comfortable Brew Crew?Crooting, Republican-voting, AM-broadcasting George Rathbun was also the Rat who had once narrated a gleeful on-air evacuation of his bowels onto a Backstreet Boys CD there could be trouble. Quite serious, possibly, resounding well beyond the tight-knit little radio community. â€Å"What in God's name would ever make you think that I'm the Wisconsin Rat, Morris?† Henry asks. â€Å"I barely know who you're talking about. Who put such a weird idea in your head?† â€Å"An informed source,† Morris says craftily. He won't give Howie Soule up, not even if they pull out his fingernails with red-hot tongs. Besides, Howie only found out by accident: went into the station crapper one day after Henry left and discovered that Henry's wallet had fallen out of his back pocket while he was sitting on the throne. You'd have thought a fellow whose other senses were so obviously tightwired would have sensed the absence, but probably Henry's mind had been on other things he was obviously a heavy dude who undoubtedly spent his days getting through some heavy thoughts. In any case, there was a KWLA I.D. card in Henry's wallet (which Howie had thumbed through â€Å"in the spirit of friendly curiosity,† as he put it), and on the line marked NAME, someone had stamped a little inkpad drawing of a rat. Case closed, game over, zip up your fly. â€Å"I have never in my life so much as stepped through the door of KWLA,† Henry says, and this is the absolute truth. He makes the Wisconsin Rat tapes (among others) in his studio at home, then sends them in to the station from the downtown Mail Boxes Etc., where he rents under the name of Joe Strummer. The card with the rat stamped on it was more in the nature of an invitation from the KWLA staff than anything else, one he's never taken up . . . but he kept the card. â€Å"Have you become anyone else's informed source, Morris?† â€Å"Huh?† â€Å"Have you told anyone that you think I'm the Wisconsin Rat?† â€Å"No! Course not!† Which, as we all know, is what people always say. Luckily for Henry, in this case it happens to be true. So far, at least, but the day is still young. â€Å"And you won't, will you? Because rumors have a way of taking root. Just like certain bad habits.† Henry mimes puffing, pulling in smoke. â€Å"I know how to keep my mouth shut,† Morris declares, with perhaps misplaced pride. â€Å"I hope so. Because if you bruited this about, I'd have to kill you.† Bruited, Morris thinks. Oh man, this guy is complete. â€Å"Kill me, yeah,† Morris says, laughing. â€Å"And eat you,† Henry says. He is not laughing; not even smiling. â€Å"Yeah, right.† Morris laughs again, but this time the laugh sounds strangely forced to his own ears. â€Å"Like you're Hannibal Lecture.† â€Å"No, like I'm the Fisherman,† Henry says. He slowly turns his aviator sunglasses toward Morris. The sun reflects off them, for a moment turning them into rufous eyes of fire. Morris takes a step back without even realizing that he has done so. â€Å"Albert Fish liked to start with the ass, did you know that?† â€Å"N â€Å" â€Å"Yes indeed. He claimed that a good piece of young ass was as sweet as a veal cutlet. His exact words. Written in a letter to the mother of one of his victims.† â€Å"Far out,† Morris says. His voice sounds faint to his own ears, the voice of a plump little pig denying entrance to the big bad wolf. â€Å"But I'm not exactly, like, worried that you're the Fisherman.† â€Å"No? Why not?† â€Å"Man, you're blind, for one thing!† Henry says nothing, only stares at the now vastly uneasy Morris with his fiery glass eyes. And Morris thinks: But is he blind? He gets around pretty good for a blind guy . . . and the way he tabbed me as soon as I came out here, how weird was that? â€Å"I'll keep quiet,† he says. â€Å"Honest to God.† â€Å"That's all I want,† Henry says mildly. â€Å"Now that we've got that straight, what exactly have you brought me?† He holds up the CD but not as if he's looking at it, Morris observes with vast relief. â€Å"It's, um, this Racine group. Dirtysperm? And they've got this cover of ? ®Where Did Our Love Go'? The old Supremes thing? Only they do it at like a hundred and fifty beats a minute? It's fuckin' hilarious. I mean, it destroys the whole pop thing, man, blitzes it!† â€Å"Dirtysperm,† Henry says. â€Å"Didn't they used to be Jane Wyatt's Clit?† Morris looks at Henry with awe that could easily become love. â€Å"Dirtysperm's lead guitarist, like, formed JWC, man. Then him and the bass guy had this political falling-out, something about Dean Kissinger and Henry Acheson, and Ucky Ducky he's the guitarist went off to form Dirtysperm.† † ? ®Where Did Our Love Go'?† Henry muses, then hands the CD back. And, as if he sees the way Morris's face falls: â€Å"I can't be seen with something like that use your head. Stick it in my locker.† Morris's gloom disappears and he breaks into a sunny smile. â€Å"Yeah, okay! You got it, Mr. Leyden!† â€Å"And don't let anyone see you doing it. Especially not Howie Soule. Howie's a bit of a snoop. You'd do well not to emulate him.† â€Å"No way, baby!† Still smiling, delighted at how all this has gone, Morris reaches for the door handle. â€Å"And Morris?† â€Å"Yeah?† â€Å"Since you know my secret, perhaps you'd better call me Henry.† â€Å"Henry! Yeah!† Is this the best morning of the summer for Morris Rosen? You better believe it. â€Å"And something else.† â€Å"Yeah? Henry?† Morris dares imagine a day when they will progress to Hank and Morrie. â€Å"Keep your mouth shut about the Rat.† â€Å"I already told you â€Å" â€Å"Yes, and I believe you. But temptation comes creeping, Morris; temptation comes creeping like a thief in the night, or like a killer in search of prey. If you give in to temptation, I'll know. I'll smell it on your skin like bad cologne. Do you believe me?† â€Å"Uh . . . yeah.† And he does. Later, when he has time to kick back and reflect, Morris will think what a ridiculous idea that is, but yes, at the time, he believes it. Believes him. It's like being hypnotized. â€Å"Very good. Now off you go. I want Ace Hardware, Zaglat Chevy, and Mr. Tastee Ribs all cued up for the first seg.† â€Å"Gotcha.† â€Å"Also, last night's game â€Å" â€Å"Wickman striking out the side in the eighth? That was pimp. Totally, like, un-Brewers.† â€Å"No, I think we want the Mark Loretta home run in the fifth. Loretta doesn't hit many, and the fans like him. I can't think why. Even a blind man can see he has no range, especially from deep in the hole. Go on, son. Put the CD in my locker, and if I see the Rat, I'll give it to him. I'm sure he'll give it a spin.† â€Å"The track â€Å" â€Å"Seven, seven, rhymes with heaven. I won't forget and neither will he. Go on, now.† Morris gives him a final grateful look and goes back inside. Henry Leyden, alias George Rathbun, alias the Wisconsin Rat, also alias Henry Shake (we'll get to that one, but not now; the hour draweth late), lights another cigarette and drags deep. He won't have time to finish it; the farm report is already in full flight (hog bellies up, wheat futures down, and the corn as high as an elephant's eye), but he needs a couple of drags just now to steady himself. A long, long day stretches out ahead of him, ending with the Strawberry Fest Hop at Maxton Elder Care, that house of antiquarian horrors. God save him from the clutches of William â€Å"Chipper† Maxton, he has often thought. Given a choice between ending his days at MEC and burning his face off with a blowtorch, he would reach for the blowtorch every time. Later, if he's not totally exhausted, perhaps his friend from up the road will come over and they can begin the long-promised reading of Bleak House. That would be a trea t. How long, he wonders, can Morris Rosen hold on to his momentous secret? Well, Henry supposes he will find that out. He likes the Rat too much to give him up unless he absolutely has to; that much is an undeniable fact. â€Å"Dean Kissinger,† he murmurs. â€Å"Henry Acheson. Ucky Ducky. God save us.† He takes another drag on his cigarette, then drops it into the bucket of sand. It is time to go back inside, time to replay last night's Mark Loretta home run, time to start taking more calls from the Coulee Country's dedicated sports fans. And time for us to be off. Seven o'clock has rung from the Lutheran church steeple. In French Landing, things are getting into high gear. No one lies abed long in this part of the world, and we must speed along to the end of our tour. Things are going to start happening soon, and they may happen fast. Still, we have done well, and we have only one more stop to make before arriving at our final destination. We rise on the warm summer updrafts and hover for a moment by the KDCU tower (we are close enough to hear the tik-tik-tik of the beacon and the low, rather sinister hum of electricity), looking north and taking our bearings. Eight miles upriver is the town of Great Bluff, named for the limestone outcropping that rises there. The outcropping is reputed to be haunted, because in 1888 a chief of the Fox Indian tribe (Far Eyes was his name) assembled all his warriors, shamans, squaws, and children and told them to leap to their deaths, thereby escaping some hideous fate he had glimpsed in his dreams. Far Eyes's followers, like Jim Jones's, did as they were bidden. We won't go that far upriver, however; we have enough ghosts to deal with right here in French Landing. Let us instead fly over Nailhouse Row once more (the Harleys are gone; Beezer St. Pierre has led the Thunder Five off to their day's work at the brewery), over Queen Street and Maxton Elder Care (Burny's down there, still looking out his window ugh), to Bluff Street. This is almost the countryside again. Even now, in the twenty-first century, the towns in Coulee Country give up quickly to the woods and the fields. Herman Street is a left turn from Bluff Street, in an area that is not quite town and not quite city. Here, in a sturdy brick house sitting at the end of a half-mile meadow as yet undiscovered by the developers (even here there are a few developers, unknowing agents of slippage), lives Dale Gilbertson with his wife, Sarah, and his six-year-old son, David. We can't stay long, but let us at least drift in through the kitchen window for a moment. It's open, after all, and there is room for us to perch right here on the counter, between the Silex and the toaster. Sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and shoveling Special K into his mouth without tasting it (he has forgotten both the sugar and the sliced banana in his distress at seeing yet another Wendell Green byline on the front page of the Herald), is Chief Gilbertson himself. This morning he is without doubt the unhappiest man in French Landing. We will meet his only competition for that booby prize soon, but for the moment, let us stick with Dale. The Fisherman, he thinks mournfully, his reflections on this subject very similar to those of Bobby Dulac and Tom Lund. Why didn't you name him something a little more turn-of-the-century, you troublesome scribbling fuck? Something a little bit local? Dahmerboy, maybe, that'd be good. Ah, but Dale knows why. The similarities between Albert Fish, who did his work in New York, and their boy here in French Landing are just too good too tasty to be ignored. Fish strangled his victims, as both Amy St. Pierre and Johnny Irkenham were apparently strangled; Fish dined on his victims, as both the girl and the boy were apparently dined upon; both Fish and the current fellow showed an especial liking for the . . . well, for the posterior regions of the anatomy. Dale looks at his cereal, then drops his spoon into the mush and pushes the bowl away with the side of his hand. And the letters. Can't forget the letters. Dale glances down at his briefcase, crouched at the side of his chair like a faithful dog. The file is in there, and it draws him like a rotted, achy tooth draws the tongue. Maybe he can keep his hands off it, at least while he's here at home, where he plays toss with his son and makes love to his wife, but keeping his mind off it . . . that's a whole ‘nother thing, as they also say in these parts. Albert Fish wrote a long and horribly explicit letter to the mother of Grace Budd, the victim who finally earned the old cannibal a trip to the electric chair. (â€Å"What a thrill electrocution will be!† Fish reputedly told his jailers. â€Å"The only one I haven't tried!†) The current doer has written similar letters, one addressed to Helen Irkenham, the other to Amy's father, the awful (but genuinely grief-stricken, in Dale's estimation) Armand â€Å"Beezer† St. Pierre. It would be good if Dale could believe these letters were written by some troublemaker not otherwise connected to the murders, but both contain information that has been withheld from the press, information that presumably only the killer could know. Dale at last gives in to temptation (how well Henry Leyden would understand) and hauls up his briefcase. He opens it and puts a thick file where his cereal bowl lately rested. He returns the briefcase to its place by his chair, then opens the file (it is marked ST. PIERRE/IRKENHAM rather than FISHERMAN). He leafs past heartbreaking school photos of two smiling, gap-toothed children, past state medical examiner reports too horrible to read and crime-scene photos too horrible to look at (ah, but he must look at them, again and again he must look at them the blood-slicked chains, the flies, the open eyes). There are also various transcripts, the longest being the interview with Spencer Hovdahl, who found the Irkenham boy and who was, very briefly, considered a suspect. Next come Xerox copies of three letters. One had been sent to George and Helen Irkenham (addressed to Helen alone, if it made any difference). One went to Armand â€Å"Beezer† St. Pierre (addressed just that way, too, nickname and all). The third had been sent to the mother of Grace Budd, of New York City, following the murder of her daughter in the late spring of 1928. Dale lays the three of them out, side by side. Grace sat in my lap and kissed me. I made up my mind to eat her. So Fish had written to Mrs. Budd. Amy sat in my lap and hugged me. I made up my mind to eat her. So had Beezer St. Pierre's correspondent written, and was it any wonder the man had threatened to burn the French Landing police station to the ground? Dale doesn't like the son of a bitch, but has to admit he might feel the same way in Beezer's shoes. I went upstairs and stripped all my clothes off. I knew if I did not I would get her blood on them. Fish, to Mrs. Budd. I went around back of the hen-house and stripped all my cloes off. New if I did not I would get his blood on them. Anonymous, to Helen Irkenham. And here was a question: How could a mother receive a letter like that and retain her sanity? Was that possible? Dale thought not. Helen answered questions coherently, had even offered him tea the last time he was out there, but she had a glassy, poleaxed look in her eye that suggested she was running entirely on instruments. Three letters, two new, one almost seventy-five years old. And yet all three are so similar. The St. Pierre letter and the Irkenham letter had been hand-printed by someone who was left-handed, according to the state experts. The paper was plain white Hammermill mimeo, available in every Office Depot and Staples in America. The pen used had probably been a Bic now, there was a lead. Fish to Mrs. Budd, back in '28: I did not fuck her tho I could of had I wished. She died a virgin. Anonymous to Beezer St. Pierre: I did NOT fuck her tho I could of had I wished. She died a VIRGIN. Anonymous to Helen Irkenham: This may comfort you I did NOT fuck him tho I could of had I wished. He died a VIRGIN. Dale's out of his depth here and knows it, but he hopes he isn't a complete fool. This doer, although he did not sign his letters with the old cannibal's name, clearly wanted the connection to be made. He had done everything but leave a few dead trout at the dumping sites. Sighing bitterly, Dale puts the letters back into the file, the file back into the briefcase. â€Å"Dale? Honey?† Sarah's sleepy voice, from the head of the stairs. Dale gives the guilty jump of a man who has almost been caught doing something nasty and latches his briefcase. â€Å"I'm in the kitchen,† he calls back. No need to worry about waking Davey; he sleeps like the dead until at least seven-thirty every morning. â€Å"Going in late?† â€Å"Uh-huh.† He often goes in late, then makes up for it by working until seven or eight or even nine in the evening. Wendell Green hasn't made a big deal of that . . . at least not so far, but give him time. Talk about your cannibals! â€Å"Give the flowers a drink before you go, would you? It's been so dry.† â€Å"You bet.† Watering Sarah's flowers is a chore Dale likes. He gets some of his best thinking done with the garden hose in his hand. A pause from upstairs . . . but he hasn't heard her slippers shuffling back toward the bedroom. He waits. And at last: â€Å"You okay, hon?† â€Å"Fine,† he calls back, pumping what he hopes will be the right degree of heartiness into his voice. â€Å"Because you were still tossing around when I dropped off.† â€Å"No, I'm fine.† â€Å"Do you know what Davey asked me last night while I was washing his hair?† Dale rolls his eyes. He hates these long-distance conversations. Sarah seems to love them. He gets up and pours himself another cup of coffee. â€Å"No, what?† â€Å"He asked, ? ®Is Daddy going to lose his job?' â€Å" † Dale pauses with the cup halfway to his lips. â€Å"What did you say?† â€Å"I said no. Of course.† â€Å"Then you said the right thing.† He waits, but there is no more. Having injected him with one more dram of poisonous worry David's fragile psyche, as well as what a certain party might do to the boy, should David be so unlucky as to run afoul of him Sarah shuffles back to their room and, presumably, to the shower beyond. Dale goes back to the table, sips his coffee, then puts his hand to his forehead and closes his eyes. In this moment we can see precisely how frightened and miserable he is. Dale is just forty-two and a man of abstemious habits, but in the cruel morning light coming through the window by which we entered, he looks, for the moment, anyway, a sickly sixty. He is concerned about his job, knows that if the fellow who killed Amy and Johnny keeps it up, he will almost certainly be turned out of office the following year. He is also concerned about Davey . . . although Davey isn't his chief concern, for, like Fred Marshall, he cannot actually conceive that the Fisherman could take his and Sarah's own child. No, it is the other children of French Landing he is more worried about, possibly the children of Centralia and Arden as well. His worst fear is that he is simply not good enough to catch the son of a bitch. That he will kill a third, a fourth, perhaps an eleventh and twelfth. God knows he has requested help. And gotten it . . . sort of. There are two State Police detectives assigned to the case, and the FBI guy from Madison keeps checking in (on an informal basis, though; the FBI is not officially part of the investigation). Even his outside help has a surreal quality for Dale, one that has been partially caused by an odd coincidence of their names. The FBI guy is Agent John P. Redding. The state detectives are Perry Brown and Jeffrey Black. So he has Brown, Black, and Redding on his team. The Color Posse, Sarah calls them. All three making it clear that they are strictly working support, at least for the time being. Making it clear that Dale Gilbertson is the man standing on ground zero. Christ, but I wish Jack would sign on to help me with this, Dale thinks. I'd deputize him in a second, just like in one of those corny old Western movies. Yes indeed. In a second. When Jack had first come to French Landing, almost four years ago, Dale hadn't known what to make of the man his officers immediately dubbed Hollywood. By the time the two of them had nailed Thornberg Kinderling yes, inoffensive little Thornberg Kinderling, hard to believe but absolutely true he knew exactly what to make of him. The guy was the finest natural detective Dale had ever met in his life. The only natural detective, that's what you mean. Yes, all right. The only one. And although they had shared the collar (at the L.A. newcomer's absolute insistence), it had been Jack's detective work that had turned the trick. He was almost like one of those story-book detectives . . . Hercule Poirot, Ellery Queen, one of those. Except that Jack didn't exactly deduct, nor did he go around tapping his temple and talking about his â€Å"little gray cells.† He . . . â€Å"He listens,† Dale mutters, and gets up. He heads for the back door, then returns for his briefcase. He'll put it in the back seat of his cruiser before he waters the flower beds. He doesn't want those awful pictures in his house any longer than strictly necessary. He listens. Like the way he'd listened to Janna Massengale, the bartender at the Taproom. Dale had had no idea why Jack was spending so much time with the little chippy; it had even crossed his mind that Mr. Los Angeles Linen Slacks was trying to hustle her into bed so he could go back home and tell all his friends on Rodeo Drive that he'd gotten himself a little piece of the cheese up there in Wisconsin, where the air was rare and the legs were long and strong. But that hadn't been it at all. He had been listening, and finally she had told him what he needed to hear. Yeah, shurr, people get funny ticks when they're drinking, Janna had said. There's this one guy who starts doing this after a couple of belts. She had pinched her nostrils together with the tips of her fingers . . . only with her hand turned around so the palm pointed out. Jack, still smiling easily, still sipping a club soda: Always with the palm out? Like this? And mimicked the gesture. Janna, smiling, half in love: That's it, doll you're a quick study. Jack: Sometimes, I guess. What's this fella's name, darlin'? Janna: Kinderling. Thornberg Kinderling. She giggled. Only, after a drink or two once he's started up with that pinchy thing he wants everyone to call him Thorny. Jack, still with his own smile: And does he drink Bombay gin, darlin'? One ice cube, little trace of bitters? Janna's smile starting to fade, now looking at him as if he might be some kind of wizard: How'd you know that? But how he knew it didn't matter, because that was really the whole package, done up in a neat bow. Case closed, game over, zip up your fly. Eventually, Jack had flown back to Los Angeles with Thornberg Kinderling in custody Thornberg Kinderling, just an inoffensive, bespectacled farm-insurance salesman from Centralia, wouldn't say boo to a goose, wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful, wouldn't dare ask your mamma for a drink of water on a hot day, but he had killed two prostitutes in the City of Angels. No strangulation for Thorny; he had done his work with a Buck knife, which Dale himself had eventually traced to Lapham Sporting Goods, the nasty little trading post a door down from the Sand Bar, Centralia's grungiest drinking establishment. By then DNA testing had nailed Kinderling's ass to the barn door, but Jack had been glad to have the provenance of the murder weapon anyway. He had called Dale personally to thank him, and Dale, who'd never been west of Denver in his life, had been almost absurdly touched by the courtesy. Jack had said several times during the course of the investigation that you could never have enough evidence when the doer was a genuine bad guy, and Thorny Kinderling had turned out to be about as bad as you could want. He'd gone the insanity route, of course, and Dale who had privately hoped he might be called upon to testify was delighted when the jury rejected the plea and sentenced him to consecutive life terms. And what made all that happen? What had been the first cause? Why, a man listening. That was all. Listening to a lady bartender who was used to having her breasts stared at while her words most commonly went in one ear of the man doing the staring and out the other. And who had Hollywood Jack listened to before he had listened to Janna Massengale? Some Sunset Strip hooker, it seemed . . . or more likely a whole bunch of them. (What would you call that, anyway? Dale wonders absently as he goes out to the garage to get his trusty hose. A shimmy of streetwalkers? A strut of hookers?) None of them could have picked Thornberg Kinderling out of a lineup, because the Thornberg who visited L.A. surely hadn't looked much like the Thornberg who traveled around to the farm-supply companies in the Coulee and over in Minnesota. L.A. Thorny had worn a wig, contacts instead of specs, and a little false mustache. â€Å"The most brilliant thing was the skin darkener,† Jack had said. â€Å"Just a little, just enough to make him look like a native.† â€Å"Dramatics all four years at French Landing High School,† Dale had replied grimly. â€Å"I looked it up. The little bastard played Don Juan his junior year, do you believe it?† A lot of sly little changes (too many for a jury to swallow an insanity plea, it seemed), but Thorny had forgotten that one revelatory little signature, that trick of pinching his nostrils together with the palm of his hand turned outward. Some prostitute had remembered it, though, and when she mentioned it only in passing, Dale has no doubt, just as Janna Massengale did Jack heard it. Because he listened. Called to thank me for tracing the knife, and again to tell me how the jury came back, Dale thinks, but that second time he wanted something, too. And I knew what it was. Even before he opened his mouth I knew. Because, while he is no genius detective like his friend from the Golden State, Dale had not missed the younger man's unexpected, immediate response to the landscape of western Wisconsin. Jack had fallen in love with the Coulee Country, and Dale would have wagered a good sum that it had been love at first look. It had been impossible to mistake the expression on his face as they drove from French Landing to Cen-tralia, from Centralia to Arden, from Arden to Miller: wonder, pleasure, almost a kind of rapture. To Dale, Jack had looked like a man who has come to a place he has never been before only to discover he is back home. â€Å"Man, I can't get over this,† he'd said once to Dale. The two of them had been riding in Dale's old Caprice cruiser, the one that just wouldn't stay aligned (and sometimes the horn stuck, which could be embarrassing). â€Å"Do you realize how lucky you are to live here, Dale? It must be one of the most beautiful places in the world.† Dale, who had lived in the Coulee his entire life, had not disagreed. Toward the end of their final conversation concerning Thornberg Kinderling, Jack had reminded Dale of how he'd once asked (not quite kidding, not quite serious, either) for Dale to let him know if a nice little place ever came on the market in Dale's part of the world, something out of town. And Dale had known at once from Jack's tone the almost anxious drop in his voice that the kidding was over. â€Å"So you owe me,† Dale murmurs, shouldering the hose. â€Å"You owe me, you bastard.† Of course he has asked Jack to lend an unofficial hand with the Fisherman investigation, but Jack has refused . . . almost with a kind of fear. I'm retired, he'd said brusquely. If you don't know what that word means, Dale, we can look it up in the dictionary together. But it's ridiculous, isn't it? Of course it is. How can a man not yet thirty-five be retired? Especially one who is so infernally good at the job? â€Å"You owe me, baby,† he says again, now walking along the side of the house toward the bib faucet. The sky above is cloudless; the well-watered lawn is green; there is nary a sign of slippage, not out here on Herman Street. Yet perhaps there is, and perhaps we feel it. A kind of discordant hum, like the sound of all those lethal volts coursing through the steel struts of the KDCU tower. But we have stayed here too long. We must take wing again and proceed to our final destination of this early morning. We don't know everything yet, but we know three important things: first, that French Landing is a town in terrible distress; second, that a few people ( Judy Marshall, for one; Charles Burnside, for another) understand on some deep level that the town's ills go far beyond the depredations of a single sick pedophile-murderer; third, that we have met no one capable of consciously recognizing the force the slippage that has now come to bear on this quiet town hard by Tom and Huck's river. Each person we've met is, in his own way, as blind as Henry Leyden. This is as true of the folks we haven't so far encountered Beezer St. Pierre, Wendell Green, the Color Posse as it is of those we have. Our hearts groan for a hero. And while we may not find one (this is the twenty-first century, after all, the days not of d'Artagnan and Jack Aubrey but of George W. Bush and Dirtysperm), we can perhaps find a man who was a hero once upon a time. Let us therefore search out an old friend, one we last glimpsed a thousand and more miles east of here, on the shore of the steady Atlantic. Years have passed and they have in some ways lessened the boy who was; he has forgotten much and has spent a good part of his adult life maintaining that state of amnesia. But he is French Landing's only hope, so let us take wing and fly almost due east, back over the woods and fields and gentle hills. Mostly, we see miles of unbroken farmland: regimental cornfields, luxuriant hay fields, fat yellow swaths of alfalfa. Dusty, narrow drives lead to white farmhouses and their arrays of tall barns, granaries, cylindrical cement-block silos, and long metal equipment sheds. Men in denim jackets are moving along the well-worn paths between the houses and the barns. We can already smell the sunlight. Its odor, richly compacted of butter, yeast, earth, growth, and decay, will intensify as the sun ascends and the light grows stronger. Below us, Highway 93 intersects Highway 35 at the center of tiny Centralia. The empty parking lot behind the Sand Bar awaits the noisy arrival of the Thunder Five, who customarily spend their Saturday afternoons, evenings, and nights in the enjoyment of the Sand Bar's pool tables, hamburgers, and pitchers of that ambrosia to the creation of which they have devoted their eccentric lives, Kingsland Brewing Company's finest product and a beer that can hold up its creamy head among anything made in a specialty microbrewery or a Belgian monastery, Kingsland Ale. If Beezer St. Pierre, Mouse, and company say it is the greatest beer in the world, why should we doubt them? Not only do they know much more about beer than we do, they called upon every bit of the knowledge, skill, expertise, and seat-of-the-pants inspiration at their disposal to make Kingsland Ale a benchmark of the brewer's art. In fact, they moved to French Landing because the brewery, which they had selected after careful del iberation, was willing to work with them. To invoke Kingsland Ale is to wish for a good-sized mouthful of the stuff, but we put temptation behind us; 7:30 A.M. is far too early for drinking anything but fruit juice, coffee, and milk (except for the likes of Wanda Kinderling, and Wanda thinks of beer, even Kingsland Ale, as a dietary supplement to Aristocrat vodka); and we are in search of our old friend and the closest we can come to a hero, whom we last saw as a boy on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. We are not about to waste time; we are on the move, right here and now. The miles fly past beneath us, and along Highway 93 the fields narrow as the hills rise up on both sides. For all our haste, we must take this in, we must see where we are.

How to make homemade ice cream Essay Example

How to make homemade ice cream Essay Example How to make homemade ice cream Essay How to make homemade ice cream Essay Have you ever wanted to try making your own homemade Ice cream? Have you not done It Just because you thought you needed an Ice cream machine to do It? Well, there are a few different ways to make homemade ice cream without an ice cream maker. All you need is a handful of ingredients, the proper utensils, and a little time. One fast and easy way to make homemade ice cream is by making it in a plastic bag. Another way you can do this requires the use of a stove and the correct cooking utensils. Each way is simple, but depending on the materials you have one will be easier to do than the other. If you dont have a lot of time and want a quick snack In no time you can make the Ice cream with the plastic bag method. If you want more ice cream and have time, the proper cooking utensils, and a stove you can use this other cooking method. Making ice cream can give you something to do when youre bored, hungry for a snack, or want to try something new. Making your own ice cream can save you money and you can show these different methods to your friends, family, or children. It can be an enjoyable activity and the end results are amazing. The Ice cream Is delicious and satisfying. These processes take Just a short time to do ND are simple and easy to complete. Using the plastic bag method is easy enough for almost anyone to do, even young children. The stove method is a little more advanced and not recommended for young children unless accompanied by an adult. Weve decided to give you a couple different ways to make your own homemade Ice cream because we know people may have the proper materials to make It one way, but maybe not the other. The bag method Is simpler and can be something fun to do with your friends, whereas the stove method may produce higher quality ice cream and be something youd do to challenge yourself in the itched. Ingredients/Materials: 1/2 cup milk (whole or 2% work best) or half and half 1/2 cup heavy cream (optional) 1/2 teaspoon vanilla 1 tablespoon sugar 4 cups Ice cubes or crushed Ice 4 tablespoons salt 2 quart-sized plastic food storage bags 1 gallon-sized plastic food storage bag A hand towel or winter gloves How to Make It: In one of the quart-sized bags combine the milk, sugar, and vanilla (and heavy cream if you want). Carefully squeeze as much air out of the bag as possible and seal it tightly. Excess air in the bag could cause it to open during the mixing process, which wouldnt be good. Put the bag of ingredients you just combined into the other quart- sized bag. Squeeze the air out of this bag as well and seal it. By double-bagging, there Is less of a chance of salt and water leaking Into your ice cream. Next, put the quart-sized bags Inside the gallon sized bag. It Is best to use a gallon-sized freezer and less likely to be punctured or torn open while making the ice cream. Once you have the smaller bags in the larger bag, add the ice and salt into the larger bag, covering and surrounding the small bags. You can use table salt for this, though Kosher or rock salt will work better for you. Squeeze the air out of this bag and seal it tightly. Elf youre using a towel wrap the towel around the bag. If not, put your gloves on. Then, shake and massage the mixture. Continue doing this until the ice cream is at the consistency you want. This will take about five to ten minutes to do. You can then remove the quart-sized bags from the gallon-sized bag and eat your ice cream. You may want to rinse the outer quart-sized bag to be sure the salt is off it and doesnt get into your ice cream. You can then eat your treat right out of the bag, put it into a bowl, or enjoy it in a cone.

Biography of John Ford, Oscar-Winning Film Director

Biography of John Ford, Oscar-Winning Film Director John Ford (February 1, 1894 - August 31, 1973) was one of the greatest film directors of all time. He won four Best Director Academy Awards, more than any other director. He is best known for his Westerns, but multiple of his novel adaptations stand among the best films of all time. Fast Facts: John Ford Full Name: Sean Aloysius FeeneyOccupation: Film directorBorn: February 1, 1894 in Cape Elizabeth, MaineDied: August 31, 1973 in Palm Desert, CaliforniaSpouse: Mary McBride SmithSelected Films: Stagecoach (1939), The Grapes of Wrath (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941), The Searchers (1956)Key Achievements: 4 Academy Awards for Best Director and the Presidential Medal of FreedomNotable Quote: It is easier to get an actor to be a cowboy than to get a cowboy to be an actor. Early Life and Education Born into an Irish immigrant family in Maine, John Ford (born Sean Aloysius Feeney) grew up in a moderately prosperous environment. His father owned saloons in Portland, Maines largest city. Ford was one of eleven children. Many of John Fords subsequent film projects related to his Irish heritage. The young John Ford played football in high school. He earned the nickname Bull for his habit of lowering his helmet as he charged the line. Fords older brother, Francis, left Portland to seek a career in New York in the theater around the year 1900. He was successful and took the stage name Francis Ford. By 1910, Francis moved to California to seek a movie career. After high school graduation, in 1914, Francis younger brother, John, moved to California with the hope of launching his own career. Silent Films John Ford got his start in Hollywood as an assistant in the production of his older brothers movies. He served as a stuntman, handyman, double for his brother, and occasional actor. Despite a contentious relationship between the two, within three years, John was his brothers primary assistant and often operated the camera. By the time John Ford made his debut as a director in 1917, Francis Fords career was on the decline. Between 1917 and 1928, the younger Ford worked on more than 60 silent films. However, only ten of them survive fully intact. For his entire career, John Ford was one of the busiest directors in Hollywood, but the silent years were unusually productive even by his standard. The Lottery Man (1919). Corbis Historical / Getty Images John Ford had his first significant success as a director with the 1924 epic The Iron Horse, about the building of the First Transcontinental Railroad. He filmed it on location in the Sierra Nevada mountains with 5,000 extras, 2,000 horses, and a cavalry regiment. Among the props used were an original stagecoach used by newspaper publisher Horace Greeley and Wild Bill Hickoks pistol. The movie earned an estimated $2 million on a budget of $280,000. Westerns John Ford is best remembered for his Westerns. From the 1930s through the 1960s, he helped design the look and feel of classic Western film. One of his favorite actors, John Wayne, appeared in more than 20 of his films as a featured actor. Wayne was in countless more projects near the beginning of his career performing as an extra. Stagecoach (1939). Moviepix / Getty Images Despite his early success with The Iron Horse, Ford didnt direct any Westerns between 1926 and 1939. However, when he once again returned to the frontier, Ford created what many critics consider one of the best films of all time. Stagecoach appeared in 1939, and the story of mismatched strangers thrown together in the vast emptiness of the West while riding through dangerous Apache territory thrilled audiences. It earned seven Academy Award nominations including Best Picture and Best Director. Thomas Mitchell won for Best Supporting Actor. Orson Welles reportedly studied Stagecoach in his preparations for making Citizen Kane. During World War II, John Ford served in the U.S. Navy Reserve creating wartime documentaries. He won Oscars for two of his films. He was with the U.S. military on D-Day and filmed the beach landing. He was recognized for his bravery during the war after suffering injuries while documenting attacks. American film director John Ford (1894 - 1973) in uniform as a Rear Admiral in the United States Naval Reserve, circa, 1957. Â  Pictorial Parade / Getty Images John Fords first movie after his service in World War II was 1946s My Darling Clementine, a Western featuring another of the directors favorite actors, Henry Fonda. He followed it with the so-called cavalry trilogy of movies starring John Wayne. They included 1948s Fort Apache, 1949s She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and 1950s Rio Grande. Fords next Western didnt appear until 1956. Starring Jeffrey Hunter and rising star Natalie Wood, The Searchers quickly became a classic. In 2008, the American Film Institute named it the Greatest Western of All Time. In 1962, John Ford released The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance starring James Stewart and John Wayne. Many observers consider it the last great Ford film. It was a major success and one of the top 20 moneymaking films of the year. Cheyenne Autumn, the final John Ford Western, appeared in 1964. Unfortunately, it was not a success at the box office and was the most expensive film of the legendary directors career. John Ford directing My Darling Clementine (1946). Bettmann / Getty Images Classic Novel Adaptations Despite his association with Westerns, John Ford didnt win any of his Best Picture Oscars for them. Three of the four awards came with novel adaptations. The fourth wove the feature-length film The Quiet Man out of a short story. The first John Ford film to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture was the 1931 adaptation of Sinclair Lewiss novel Arrowsmith. Ford won his first Oscar for Best Director adapting Liam OFlahertys The Informer in 1935, a tale of the Irish War of Independence. In 1940, Ford took on John Steinbecks Great Depression novel The Grapes of Wrath. It was the directors third consecutive film working with the young actor Henry Fonda. Coming shortly after the end of the Great Depression, the movie was a huge success. It earned Ford his second Best Picture Oscar, and The Grapes of Wrath is often included on lists of the best films of all time. John Fords third Best Director Oscar came a year later with his adaptation of the Welsh mining saga How Green Was My Valley. It famously beat out Citizen Kane for the 1941 Best Picture Academy Award. The movie is a classic working-class drama in the spirit of Fords previous Oscar-winning efforts. How Green Was My Valley (1941). Corbis Historical / Getty Images Fords final Academy Award for Best Director came with a film that his movie company didnt want to make. With pressure from Ford, they funded 1952s The Quiet Man, a short story adaptation set in Ireland starring John Wayne. The worry was unfounded. In addition to winning John Ford an unprecedented fourth Best Director nod, it was one of the top ten moneymaking films of the year. Later Career Despite being dogged by ill health and declining eyesight, John Ford worked well into the 1960s. He completed Donovans Reef, his last film with John Wayne, in 1963. It was Fords final major commercial success, earning over $3 million at the box office. His last feature film, 7 Women, appeared in 1966. It was a story about missionary women in China trying to protect themselves from a Mongolian warlord. Unfortunately, the movie was a commercial flop. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). Corbis Historical / Getty Images John Fords final completed project was a documentary on the most decorated U.S. marine titled Chesty: A Tribute to a Legend. It featured narration by John Wayne. Though filmed in 1970, it wasnt released until 1976. Ford died in August 1973. Legacy John Ford continues to hold the record for the most Best Director Academy Awards won with four. He also earned Oscars for two wartime documentaries. In 1973, he was the first recipient of the American Film Institutes Life Achievement Award. In the same year, Ford received the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He wasnt the only person winning awards for his films. John Ford directed a total of four Academy Award-winning acting performances, and ten appearances in his movies earned nominations. Source Eyman, Scott. Print the Legend: The Life and Times of John Ford. Simon Schuster, 2012.

Theoretical review in optical materials used in Concentrating Dissertation

Theoretical review in optical materials used in Concentrating Photovoltanic (CPV) Technology - Dissertation Example Photovoltaic cells have been widely in use for the production of electricity from solar energy. However, they have high production costs because of which the cost of photovoltaic electricity is high, causing difficulties in their widespread use and market penetration (Swanson, 2000). One approach through which this drawback can be minimized is the use of solar concentrators that can increase solar irradiation per unit area of the solar cells, thereby resulting in increased electricity production per unit area of the receiver (Abdul-Rahman & Wang, 2010). Apart from increasing the electricity efficiency of the photovoltaic solar cells, the use of solar concentrators can also help in decreasing the area required for a given amount of output. Concentrating photovoltaic (CPV) technology uses optical components as solar concentrators. This technology is economically advantageous as it helps in decreasing the cost of solar electricity by using optical material that is less expensive than ph otovoltaic cells, resulting in the need for lesser number of solar cells for the same electrical output. Thus, in simpler words, the goal of CPV technology is to â€Å"reduce the cost of electricity generated by replacing expensive PV converter area with less expensive optical material† (Swanson, 2003, p. 449). ... ectric Fresnel lenses, other types of solar concentrators include dish concentrators, compound parabolic concentrators, and reflectors (Brogren, 2004). As the present study aims at modeling optical parameters for optimum collection of concentrated solar radiation for photovoltaic devices, this theoretical review will focus on the different types of optical materials used in CPV technology. Apart from providing a brief overview of the types of solar concentrators, their optics, and the types of optical materials used, this review will also elaborate the optical and physical properties of optical materials, especially glass and polymeric materials such as poly (methyl methacrylate) (PMMA), which are relevant to the present study. 2.2. Solar Concentrators & Their Types Solar concentrators are of various types depending on the type of optics employed, the concentration ratio, the number of axes for tracking the sun, etc. Fig. 2.2. Schematic representation of solar concentrator, radiation intercepted by the aperture area, A1, falls on the receiver area, A2 (Brogren, 2004, p. 41). The figure 2.2 above shows the diagrammatic representation of a solar concentrator that concentrates solar radiation spread over a wider aperture area, A1, over a smaller receiver area, A2. 2.2.1. Concentration Ratio The geometric concentration ratio of a given concentrating system is the ratio of the concentrator aperture area and area over which the radiation is concentrated. It is given by the following equation: Cg = A1/A2, where, Cg = geometric concentration ratio, A1 = â€Å"aperture area of concentrator†, and A2= â€Å"area onto which the radiation is concentrated† (Brogren, 2004). For solar concentrators, the geometric concentration ratio is defined as â€Å"the area of the primary lens or