Stand-up comedy in the middle east via youtube Article

Stand-up comedy in the middle east via youtube - Article Example New comedy performers with a different approach overrun 1960s and 70s. The new comedy was subversive, with a strong message. Comedy in those years used political and topical content to raise social questions, opinions and change the publics thinking. A 27-year-old Saudi comedian and a YouTube personality Fahad Al-Butairi, who was the first Saudi stand-up comedian to appear on stage professionally, started a YouTube channel that got so famous with many Arabs describing him as Seinfeld of Saudi Arabia. Al-Butairi started his comedy career when he was in middle school and used to perform in theater plays and in summer camps and centers in Saudi Arabia and other areas. In 2006, while studying in the US, Fahad Al-Butairi decided to try out at an open mike nights at the local comedy club in Austin where he was living basing his jokes on his personal experience, this was a success. When Fahad Al-Butairi moved back to the Saudi Arabia and got busy with his job, he heard about a comedy event in Bahrain where he performed in front of 2,000 people, this was also an instant success. The YouTube show, which he started on 2010, became his main claim to fame. It is called it â€Å"La Ykthar,† which is Arabic for â€Å"Shut up and don’t overdo it.† The show discusses Saudi Arabia’s social and political topics. It has grown in popularity with each monthly episode. Statistics show that, Al-Butairi now has over 909,000 followers on Twitter, over 488,893 subscribers on YouTube and his videos have reached 62,293,268 views. Dignitary Obeidallah, a New Jersey-conceived, Palestinian-American humorist, studies the crowd before him at Al Hussein Cultural Center. For this opening night at the first-ever Amman Stand Up Comedy Festival, Obeidallah the ever busy standup comedian is scheduled to perform a set. The entertainment events will be no different from on any other night, but tonight’s show marks the first ever comedy

Monopoly essay Essay Example for Free

Monopoly essay Essay Monopoly is â€Å"a firm that can determine the market price of a good. In the extreme case, a monopoly is the only seller of a good or service. † (Miller 103) Characteristics of a Monopoly. Are that there is one single seller in the market with no competition and there are many buyers in the market. The seller controls the prices of the goods or services and is the price maker as well. The consumers do not have perfect information on the goods or services. Advantages of a Monopoly. The Monopolies avoids duplications and hence wastage of resources. Enjoys economics of scale, due to it being the only supplier of the product or service in the market, makes many profits and be used for research and development to maintain their status as a monopoly. They also use price discrimination to benefit the weaker economic section of society. To avoid competition, they can afford to invest in the latest technology and machinery. Disadvantages of a Monopoly. Monopolies have poor levels of service, there is no consumer sovereignty, the consumers are charged high prices for such low quality goods, and lack of competition could lead to low quality goods, as well as out dated goods. What is required for a monopoly to earn profits in the long run? First off, any market type can see super normal profits in the short-run. What is more important is what happens in the long-run. Pure monopolies are not the only monopoly that can make profits. Natural Monopoly or a price discriminating monopoly can make profits as well. The only difference between them is â€Å"why† they are monopolies to begin with. Oligopolies are not monopolies, although they do tend to make above normal profits. Monopolistic competition does not yield these types of profits in the long-run. Economic profit goes to zero here in the long-run because there is a lack of barriers here to prevent competition from entering (as there is with perfect competition). If a firm uses economies of scale then I would be talking about a natural monopoly (or a few firms in oligopoly depending on how large or small the minimum efficient scale is). If the MES were small, economies of scale would not be an entry barrier to competition in order to achieve positive economic profits. If the MES were large, large enough to support one firm only, that would be the definition of a natural monopoly. â€Å"In the long run, a monopolistically competitive firm adjusts plant size, or the quantity of capital, to maximize long-run profit. In addition, the entry and exit of firms into and out of a monopolistically competitive market eliminates economic profit and guarantees that each monopolistically competitive firm earns nothing more or less than a normal profit. † (http://www. amosweb. com/cgi-bin/awb_nav. pl? s=wpdc=dspk=monopolistic+competition, +long run+production+analysis). Works Cited Roger LeRoy Miller. Economics Today, Sixteenth Edition. Boston, MA: Pearson Education, Inc. , publishing as Addison-Wesley, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2008, 2006. http://www. amosweb. com/cgi-bin/awb_nav. pl? s=wpdc=dspk=monopolistic+competition,+long-run+production+analysis.

gideon Essay -- essays papers

gideon Gideon v. Wainwright What most people don't know is that in the past those arrested for a crime did not really have "the right to an attorney" unless they had money. This became a right because Clarence Gideon, a prison inmate who did not have the money for a lawyer, took a pencil in his hand and wrote his own petition to the United States Supreme Court. Clarence Gideon, without a lawyer, took his case to the highest court in the country and won important rights for all of us. In 1961, Clarence Gideon was arrested in Florida on a charge of breaking and entering into a pool hall. Gideon was a likely suspect for the police to arrest: he was a 51-year old drifter who had been in and out of jail many times since he ran away from home to be a â€Å"hobo† at age 16. Although he barely finished the eighth-grade, when Gideon was arrested he knew two things: one of which was that he had not committed this crime and the second is he would not have a chance to convince a jury that he was not guilty if he did not have a lawyer. Because Gideon could not afford a lawyer, he asked a judge to appoint a lawyer to represent him. The judge refused and Gideon was convicted. He was sentenced to five years in jail, which gave him a lot of time on his hands. He put that time to good use. First, he filed a petition before the Florida Supreme Court. The petition was denied. So then he decided to file a petition in the U.S. Supreme Court arguing that putting him on trial without a lawyer was...

Iron Crowned Chapter 7

I signed the tax return and left a check before heading out. It figured: I owed. Self-employed people always owe. It was a credit to Lara that she'd managed my books well enough that the amount was low, but after seeing her run off with my roommate, I decided it was a good thing our working relationship didn't include performance reviews. She'd also left me a jam-packed day, which turned out to be beneficial. A busy schedule kept my mind off Dorian (mostly) and what was transpiring in the Otherworld. I fought with ferocity, as though each ghost or monster I battled was Katrice herself. It was the drives in between that were the roughest on me. There was no action then. Just my own thoughts. My last job of the day was the most difficult, undoubtedly scheduled that way on purpose so that I didn't walk into the little ones tired and injured. True, I was feeling weary, but concern for Dorian kept a spike of adrenaline burning through me, one that I knew would get me through this last job. Yet, walking up to the client's house, I couldn't stop asking the same questions in my mind. Why hasn't Volusian reported to me yet? Isn't the fight over? A nervous-looking young woman answered the door, introducing herself as Jenna. She was the one who had made the call, though it wasn't exactly on her own behalf. â€Å"She's in the living room,† Jenna whispered to me, letting me inside the foyer. Her eyes were wide with fear. â€Å"Just sitting there. Staring.† â€Å"Does she speak?† I asked. â€Å"Does she answer your questions?† â€Å"Yes †¦ but †¦ it's not her. I know that doesn't make sense, but it's not. The people at work think she's just gone crazy. I'm pretty much the only one who still talks to her. She's about to lose her job, but †¦Ã¢â‚¬  Jenna shook her head. â€Å"I swear, it's just not her.† â€Å"You're right.† I held my wand in my left hand and my silver athame in the right. â€Å"Is she †¦Ã¢â‚¬  Jenna's voice dropped even lower. â€Å"Is she possessed?† â€Å"Not exactly.† Lara had warned me about this one. It had initially sounded like possession, but further data suggested otherwise, unfortunately. A possession would have been easier. â€Å"It's a fetch. It's like †¦ I don't know. Her double. Kind of.† â€Å"Then †¦ what happened to Regan?† I hesitated. â€Å"I don't know.† I didn't want to tell Jenna there was a strong possibility that Regan was dead. That was the usual fate for a fetch's victim. Of course, fetches usually left once they'd sucked all the energy and goodness from someone's life. If this one was still here, the odds of Regan still being alive were marginally higher. â€Å"If †¦ er, when we find her, she may be in bad shape.† I stared off down the hallway, where I could hear the sound of a TV in the living room. I shifted my grip on my weapons and prepared myself. â€Å"What should I do?† asked Jenna. â€Å"Wait outside. Don't come back inside until I tell you to – no matter what.† Once she was safely away, I set off down the hall. There, in the living room, I found a woman sitting perfectly straight on the couch, her hands folded neatly upon her lap as she stared at the TV. There was a blankness in her brown eyes that told me she wasn't really watching. She didn't even acknowledge my arrival. Glancing around the living room, I took in its space and features, assessing them for a fight. I also noticed a couple pictures on the wall, group shots with Jenna and a smiling brunette who looked exactly like the woman on the couch. Yet, glancing between them, I knew Jenna was right. This wasn't Regan. â€Å"Where's Regan?† I asked. The fetch didn't look at me. â€Å"I am Regan.† â€Å"Where's Regan?† I repeated harshly. â€Å"What have you done with her?† Please, please let her be alive. This time, the fetch turned her head, those cold eyes taking me and my weapons in. â€Å"I told you. I am Regan.† I had a moment's debate on what to do. Killing the fetch without learning Regan's location would make the next part of this job even more difficult. Yet, as the fetch continued staring at me, I knew she'd recognized what I was and what threat I represented. I had to take her out now, banking on the fact that fetches usually kept their victims close. I held out my wand and began chanting the words that would drive this creature back to the Otherworld. It was where fetches came from, and a forceful enough banishing was usually enough to deter them from returning. I'd only have to get the Underworld involved if she decided to – She attacked. The fetch didn't transform into her true shape as she sprang at me. Rather, she turned into something in the middle. She still wore Regan's face, but it had a sickly green hue. Her eyes were bigger and darker and looked like they'd been stretched out. Her hands and feet were bigger too – and clawed. She came at me with her full strength, knocking me into a wall mercifully free of furniture. I kneed her in the stomach, needing to get distance between me and the claws trying to rake my face and neck. She fell back a little, not much, but enough to give me more maneuvering room. I swung out with the silver blade, and she recoiled. Iron could inflict lethal blows on the gentry, but silver was the metal of choice for almost any other creature. â€Å"Tell me where Regan is,† I said, advancing forward. â€Å"Tell me, and I'll simply banish you back to the Otherworld. Make this difficult, and you die.† I was managing that balance I always did: weapon ready to attack while part of my mind focused on a connection to the Otherworld. Hecate's tattoo, a snake on my upper arm, began to tingle. The fetch decided I wasn't a full threat yet and rushed me again. I dodged this time, anticipating her movements based on the last attack. A fetch might be able to replicate someone, but their fighting style was mostly brute force. My athame caught her arm as I moved, and she snarled in pain, showing fangs that dripped with green saliva. It hurt her but didn't slow her down as she lunged back at me. I sidestepped her again but overlooked what was behind me, hitting painfully against a cabinet. I winced, and she pressed her advantage, swinging those claws at me. I barely escaped them, managing to squirm away and hurry to the other side of the room. A banishing, I decided. I'd just keep my distance and do a banishing. I just needed a couple minutes – and to stay alive. I began chanting words to send her from this world, words that didn't have to follow any ancient form so long as my power and intent were clear. She paused briefly, realizing what I was doing, and seemed to consider her options. A circle. I should have put a circle of protection around the house. There was a very real possibility she might try to flee. That and killing me were pretty much her only options. The former would probably be easier for her – and would release Regan. But I didn't want this fetch freely walking the world. I needed to send her on. Power surged in me and through me, out to the wand and toward her. This was her last chance to run – or, as it turned out, throw a coffee table at me. I admit, I didn't see that coming – literally or figuratively. I should have, though. Furniture, props, whatever †¦ they were all fair game in a fight. The fetch had no reason to rely simply on hand-to-hand combat, and my athame gave her good reason to attack from a distance. The coffee table was a simple one, a smooth circle of glass on iron legs. A wood-framed one would have been better. The frame would have slowed the spread of glass. This table had nothing to stop it, except me. I tried to jump out of its way, saving my head and face. I wasn't far enough away when it hit the wall and shattered, though. Stinging, burning pain went through my back and left arm as glass scraped and – no doubt – embedded itself in my flesh. My sense of self-preservation kept me moving through the pain, but my connection to the Otherworld had shattered with the glass. The fetch knew this and leaped forward, risking the athame in the hope I was too addled and injured from the glass to stop her. I wasn't. I had never let go of my weapons, and my athame was ready and waiting when she came. I plunged it into her heart and started the banishing again. Over the years, as I'd grown in power and spent so much time in the Otherworld myself, these banishings had become easier. Not easy, but easier. There was a time when I couldn't have held a fetch off with my athame while simultaneously attempting a quick banishing. But now, the power flowed through me as the fetch pulled herself off my blade. She had no time to react, attack, or flee. The magic seized her, and she disappeared before my eyes, fading into sparkles and then nothing. I didn't know the extent of the athame's damage. I might have just sent her back to die. Or, she might survive and come after me in the Otherworld as some creatures tried. I wasn't worried. My abilities stayed consistent in both worlds, but my magic was a bit stronger over there – especially in the Thorn Land. I took a deep breath of relief and stuck the weapons back in my belt as I hurried toward the front door. Jenna was sitting on the lawn, face pale with worry. She sprang up when she saw me. â€Å"What happened? Is she okay?† â€Å"I'm not sure,† I said, wiping sweat off my brow. My hand came away red with blood. â€Å"We have to find her. Does she have a basement?† â€Å"No.† Jenna followed me inside and then halted. â€Å"Oh my God †¦ your back †¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"It's nothing. I'll deal with it later.† â€Å"At least – † She reached toward a spot between my upper arm and shoulder blade, wincing as she did. I yelped in pain and watched as she pulled away a huge piece of jagged glass. â€Å"That's bleeding †¦ really bad †¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I'm in better shape than Regan,† I said brusquely, trying to ignore both pain and the sight of my blood all over the shard she'd taken. â€Å"No basement. Closets? Attic?† â€Å"Both.† We checked the closets with no luck, and Jenna stuck her head in the attic's tiny space. Still nothing. â€Å"Shit,† I said. I shouldn't have let the fetch go without getting Regan's location. What if Regan wasn't nearby? What if the fetch had broken habit and hidden her victim far from home? Jenna looked as defeated as I felt, then her head shot up. â€Å"The shed. There's a shed out back.† We were out the back door in a flash, jerking open the door to a little garden shed that was mercifully unlocked. There, curled up on the ground in a fetal position, was Regan. Jenna let out a strangled cry, and we both dropped to the ground. Jenna propped Regan up while I gently shook her. â€Å"Regan, Regan. Wake up. Please wake up.† For a few moments, I feared the worst. Then, Regan's eyes fluttered open, her expression frightened and confused. Her breathing came in short rasps, and she futilely tried to sit up on her own. Her failure didn't surprise me. When a fetch took over someone's life, it put its double into a sort of magic coma. It required no ropes or gags, simply leaving behind a silent and immobile victim. Regan's ability to wake up verified that the fetch was gone, but the woman had spent days without food, water, or using her muscles. â€Å"She's dehydrated,† I said. Studying Regan's state, I knew this was beyond a few glasses of water. â€Å"Let's get her to the hospital.† Jenna drove, with Regan laid out carefully across the backseat. She said little, only making the occasional moan. Meanwhile, in the passenger seat, I attempted to clean myself off with baby wipes and to pull glass bits out of my back. The blood on my face was cleaned off when we reached the ER, as was most from my body, but I didn't want to answer questions about what had happened to me. I borrowed Jenna's jean jacket, figuring the few scratches on my face weren't enough to attract attention. We told the staff that Regan had been depressed and starving herself. We went on about how we hadn't seen her for days and had only just found her tonight. Since there was no ostensible bruising or signs of binding, they took us at our word and hurried to hook her up to fluids. We'd also probably landed her in therapy, but that was of little concern now. I waited with Jenna just outside Regan's room as a nurse finished attaching the appropriate tubes and a doctor performed further examination. When they were done, they told us we could go in and that Regan would recover once her body had sustenance again. I had no intention of going with Jenna. Now that Regan was safe, my plan was to get a taxi back to my car and go home to clean up before an Otherworldly jump. Lara could bill these women later. â€Å"Wait,† said Jenna, as the doctor and nurse were about to leave. â€Å"My friend's hurt. She broke a window to get in Regan's house and got cut.† I shook my head. â€Å"No, really, I'm fine – â€Å" I shut my mouth when I followed everyone's gaze. Even I could see that the left sleeve of the jacket was soaked with blood. There was little argument to make after that. Jenna stayed with Regan, and I was ushered off to a cubicle in the ER. The nurse shut the curtain, and I took off my shirt. The doctor's eyebrows rose. â€Å"You broke a window? With what, your entire body?† He called for another nurse, who began assisting the other with glass removal and sanitizing. â€Å"I threw a rock,† I said. â€Å"It didn't make a very big hole, but I didn't have time to make it bigger. I just had to get to Regan.† â€Å"Noble,† said the doctor, whose attention was on the larger shoulder gash. â€Å"If stupid.† Someone with a better understanding of physics might have realized my injuries didn't quite line up with what I'd get crawling through a jagged hole in a window. Fortunately, this group's talents were elsewhere. The myriad scratches and cuts were dealt with by bandages and painful antiseptics. The big cut required a fair number of stitches. I was restless the whole time, wanting only to get back and see what had happened to Dorian. The medical staff was thorough in its work, however. I decided I should just be grateful that they were letting me go and not forcing a longer stay. I was the walking wounded, in bad shape but not in life-threatening danger. â€Å"Here,† said the doctor, just before letting me go. He scrawled out a prescription and handed it to me, along with reams of paper on wound care and cleaning. â€Å"Antibiotics. Get it filled tonight.† â€Å"I will,† I said glibly. He gave me a warning look. â€Å"I mean it. I know your type. You think you're invincible, but any of that could get infected. Get the prescription. Clean and change the bandages on the cuts.† He was right that I thought I was invincible. I'd had stitches and wounds before, my gentry blood usually expediting the healing. But I nodded meekly, promising I'd obey. â€Å"Good,† he said, following me out to the waiting room. â€Å"Follow up with your family doctor in a week. I think your ride's over there.† â€Å"My ride †¦?† I stared around the room, freezing when I saw a familiar face. â€Å"Mom?† She'd been leaning against a wall, eyes anxiously studying everyone in the room. Spotting me, she practically ran over, staring at my bandages in alarm. I had no coat, and the tank top showed my battle wounds. â€Å"Eugenie! Are you okay? What have you done now?† For some reason, that made the doctor snort a laugh before walking away. â€Å"I'm fine,† I told her automatically. â€Å"What are you doing here?† â€Å"I'm your emergency contact. And that is not fine.† I was still stunned to see her. It felt like it had been so long. Ages. â€Å"It is now,† I said dazedly. â€Å"All patched up. And I've got all this †¦ stuff.† I waved my stack of paper around. She brushed dark hair from her face, her expression both weary and distraught as we headed for her car. â€Å"It never gets easier. Not with you, not with him.† I gave her a sidelong look. â€Å"Does he know you're here?† â€Å"No,† she said, getting out her keys. â€Å"Not that it would matter if he did. Nothing could have stopped me from coming when they called me. I thought †¦ Well, I never know what to think†¦.† I couldn't look at her as I sat gingerly in the car. My eyes were filling with tears. I'd missed her so much. I'd missed her, well, momness. Lots of people cared about me, but it wasn't the same. Plus, I felt horrible, horrible that I made her worry. And because of me, Roland was out endangering himself again too. I hastily ran a hand over my eyes and turned to her as we pulled out of the parking lot. â€Å"When did you get glasses?† I asked in surprise. Delicate wire frames rested on a face very similar to mine. It was our coloring that was different. My red hair and violet eyes had come from Storm King. â€Å"A few weeks ago. They're just for night driving.† I looked away, fearing the tears would return. Glasses. Such a stupid thing. There was a time, though, when I would have known every little detail of her life. There was so much distance between us now. My churning, guilty thoughts only came to a standstill when she turned into a pharmacy a few blocks from the hospital. â€Å"Mom, no! I have to get back to my car and – â€Å" â€Å"You can go back to endangering your life again soon enough. Here, let me see those.† â€Å"It's not my usual pharmacy,† I said petulantly. She was skimming the wound care instructions. â€Å"Yes, well, I'm sure this one still has a couple bandages stashed away somewhere.† â€Å"You're such a mom.† She glanced up, a small twinkle in her eyes that reminded me of how things used to be between us. â€Å"I'm your mom.† I followed her sullenly as we waited for the prescription, and she forced me to get a basketful of gauze, bandages, and other first aid supplies. I already owned a lot of them, but she wouldn't rest easy until she actually saw them in my hands. â€Å"I really appreciate you coming,† I admitted as we waited. â€Å"It †¦ it's good to see you.† Her expression softened. â€Å"It's good to see you too, baby. I've missed you.† â€Å"I don't suppose Roland's forgiven me?† â€Å"It's more complicated than that,† she told me. â€Å"He still loves you. Really. But he's worried. And he doesn't like you being over †¦ there. Neither do I.† I averted my eyes again. I knew she didn't – and she had good reason. My conception was the result of her captivity and rape in the Otherworld. She'd spent years keeping that knowledge from me, hoping to protect me from both my heritage and the agony she believed that place caused. â€Å"Well, that's complicated too. I have to be there, Mom. I know you guys don't approve, but there are people counting on me. They're not all like you think. I can't let them down. They're †¦ they're dying because of me.† â€Å"Is there a man involved?† I considered a flippant remark, then chose honesty. â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"The obvious problem aside †¦ would I like him?† I tried to picture my mom meeting Dorian and couldn't stop a small smile. â€Å"Probably not.† â€Å"Do you ever talk to Kiyo anymore?† I looked up sharply, my smile fading. â€Å"It's over with us. He let me down. You know that. This other guy †¦ he won't.† I was saved from further conversation when my name was finally called. I added the prescription to my portable hospital bag and felt grateful that my mom didn't pursue the topic of my love life anymore. I was equally grateful when she drove me back to Regan's house. It wouldn't have surprised me if she'd left me carless in Tim's care. Leaving my mom stirred conflicting feelings in me. After missing her so much, part of me just wanted to stay and gaze at her, to drink in those features I loved so much. I wanted her to hold me, to be my mom and take care of everything. And yet †¦ always, always, the Otherworld was pressing on me. I didn't have the luxury of being a little girl right now. I didn't have the luxury of being her daughter. â€Å"Thank you,† I said, giving her as careful a hug as we could manage. â€Å"Thank you for †¦ I don't know. Everything.† She held me for a few moments and then pressed a kiss to my forehead. â€Å"There's nothing to thank me for. Just be careful.† She broke from the embrace. â€Å"Do what the doctor says. And for God's sake, don't end up there again. I don't want another call.† â€Å"I'll try,† I said. This made us both smile, largely because we knew my trying to stay out of harm's way was pretty futile. â€Å"And tell Roland †¦Ã¢â‚¬  I couldn't finish, but she nodded. â€Å"I know.† I left her then, loading my loot into my own car and driving home. Regan didn't live too far from me, only about ten minutes. The time flew by. I had so many things to think about that when I arrived at my house, I hardly knew how I'd gotten there. Tim's car was parked out front – as was Lara's. I dragged myself out of my own self-pitying miasma, uneasily wondering what I'd find inside. Seeing the two of them naked on my kitchen table would not be cool. Instead, they were cuddled up on the living room couch, watching a movie. All seemed innocent, but some vibe made me suspect they hadn't been actually watching too much of it. I shook my head in exasperation. â€Å"How is this my life?† I muttered, setting my bag on the counter. â€Å"Did you say something?† called Tim. The living room and kitchen were mostly open to each other. He muted the film. â€Å"Nothing important.† â€Å"We figured you'd be out for the night,† he said. I was pretty sure there was an accusatory tone in his voice. I opened the cupboards, rummaging for food. I was suddenly starving. â€Å"Well, rest easy. I'll be gone soon enough, right after I get dinner.† Lara turned and peered over the couch's back. â€Å"Pop-Tarts aren't – oh my God! What happened to you?† Tim noticed my bandages now too. He didn't look as shocked as her – he saw me come home after fights a lot – but worry had replaced his snark. â€Å"What have you been doing?† â€Å"Earning the mortgage.† I put two blueberry Pop-Tarts in the toaster. â€Å"Isn't that what you told me to do?† â€Å"Jesus, Eug. I didn't – â€Å" â€Å"Forget it,† I told him. â€Å"Everything's fine. But you're going to have to send a bill to Jenna Benson, Lara. I wasn't able to collect.† Lara nodded without a word, still aghast at seeing what my real life looked like. I poured some water and choked down one of the antibiotics while waiting for the Pop-Tarts. As soon as they were done, I retreated to my room, eating quickly as I threw together an overnight bag. While I was packing, my eyes lingered on a half-finished puzzle on my desk. I sighed. How long ago had I started that one? A month ago? I loved jigsaw puzzles. I used to do one a night. I was almost finished packing – I even included the first aid supplies, thanks to some residual mom-guilt – when the temperature dropped. An unsettling yet familiar presence filled the room, and soon Volusian appeared before me. I nearly dropped the bag. â€Å"Mistress,† he said with a mock bow. â€Å"I've come to report on the battle.†

Dramatic power and for ending the play in confusion Essay

The final act of Translations is an act in which Yolland ends up as missing, so creating a number of stories as to the circumstances of his disappearance. The final act of Translations can indeed be criticised for lacking dramatic power, as throughout the act there is no particular build up of tension that leads to one significant event. It can be seen that what happens to Yolland is fairly predictable; therefore the dramatic power is not present. The act can also be seen as ending in confusion as there is no definitive point that tells us exactly what each character goes on to do. But despite this, the statement may be questioned as was it Brian Friel’s purpose to do this? Perhaps by ending the play with a lack of dramatic power and in confusion, he has left the rest of the play and the events leading on from it down to the imagination of the reader. In the final act of Translations, everything flows along in a kind of way that doesn’t give dramatic power, as the subject and the dramatic power it radiates is the same as it was in the beginning of the play. The subject is still the same, being that of the changing of place names and its effect on the people of Ireland, and it never changes, therefore the readers have not experienced a build up of tension to an exciting and unannounced event. The very fact that Yolland, a British soldier loathed by many Irish as he is changing Irish place names, has had a relationship with Maire, a pretty young Irish girl whom Manus also likes, tells us that it may be likely that something will happen to him at the end of the play as he has caused much dislike for himself from those in the play due to these things. Therefore, this also causes a lack of dramatic power when he finally goes missing in act three, as it can be argued that it was bound to happen and could have been predicted by the readers. The final act of Translations also lacks dramatic power due to its ‘echoes’ and resonances (that is, repetitions) to previous parts of the play. Brian Friel has woven in many an echo and resonance into the structure of the play, and this also causes a lack of dramatic power as the points that have been made in previous parts of the play are just being repeated over in act three. However, although it can be argued that there is a considerable lack of dramatic power, this may only be a lack in a physical sense, i.e. a lack of physical dramatic power, such as a fight taking place or someone being killed within the narration of the play. Throughout act three, characters emotions run high, and dramatic power can be seen as being expressed through their emotions. An example can be seen with Sarah mumbling her regret for not being able to speak more fluently. ‘I’m sorry†¦I’m sorry†¦ I’m so sorry, Manus†¦Ã¢â‚¬â„¢ This use of few words repeating themselves, and the use of a. ellipsis symbolises her not being able to fully express her feelings fully through language as her linguistic talent is limited. The act has also been criticised for ending in confusion, and this may be down to many points which emerge throughout Act three.  The final act ends with an ellipsis, in that Hugh ends with, ‘†¦would come forth from Lybia’s downfall†¦Ã¢â‚¬â„¢ If this final speech had ended with a full stop, then perhaps this would have signified the end of an era or the end of a build up to events. However, the ellipsis suggests that the process is ongoing, and it is not clear where the process is leading, or what it is leading to. Therefore, we can’t directly determine what happens at the end of the play, as there appears to be no definitive end to it. The ellipsis suggests that something will happen following the end of the play, yet the readers aren’t made clear as to what that will be. Another reason as to why the act has been criticised for ending in confusion is that we (as the readers) are not clear as to what finally happens to Yolland, or who is responsible for him going missing. We only have our suspicions to work with in trying to create an ending to the story. It seems suspicious that Manus leaves right away after it has been discovered that Yolland is missing, as Owen points out, ‘Clear out now and Lancey’ll think you’re involved somehow.’ Therefore, the readers may form suspicions about who’s involved, yet this shows how the play ends in confusion as no-one can determine what has happened to him. The play ends in confusion as all of the characters are ended on a depressing note, with none of them showing exactly where they are going to go on to or what they’ll end up doing in life. The one thing we know is that Maire is going to go on to learn English, yet we are not told what that will take her on to. None of the characters specify what they will go on to do in life, yet each is ended in a dismal way with Jimmy Jack going mad and Yolland having gone missing. This demonstrates why the play has been criticised for ending in confusion, as the readers must only imagine what the characters go on to do. However, this may also have been purposeful by Friel to let audiences use their imaginations and minds to create an ending to the play. Another way of interpreting this is by saying that Brian Friel has not ended the play in that much confusion, as by taking information from the history books, and by using our own knowledge, it is clear as to what happens to Ireland following on from the end of the play. Ireland does go on to be taken over completely by England, and all the place names are changed form Irish to English. Therefore, it can also be argued that the play does end in confusion but only to a certain extent as we (as readers) at least know the fate of Ireland.  Therefore, the points that Brian Friel ends act three in confusion and with a lack of dramatic power can be agreed upon but can also be argued against as Brian Friel may have ended in such a way for a purpose, that being to allow the reader to use their imagination in creating the end of a ‘story.’

Native American Two-Spirit

Native American Two-Spirit In many Native American communities, the term Two Spirit- sometimes twospirited, depending on the source- is used to refer to indigenous members who fall outside of traditional gender roles. This term is not a substitute for homosexuality; instead, it applies to people who are considered to be a third gender, and typically hold a sacred ceremonial role within their culture. Two Spirit Key Takeaways Two Spirits are Native American or First Nations individuals who identify with both male and female genders.There is some question about the historical context of Two Spirits, because there are hundreds of Native tribes, all of which have their own unique cultural traditions.It is inappropriate for a non-Native individual to use the term Two Spirit to describe themselves. Origins and Definition of the Term Prior to the 1990s, Native people who identified as a third gender were known by the pejorative anthropological term  berdache, which is a non-Native word typically associated with male prostitutes. However, at a Winnipeg conference for gay and lesbian Native Americans in 1990, the term Two Spirit was coined to refer to Natives who define themselves as having both masculine and feminine spirits. Since that time, according to John Leland of the  New York Times, Two-Spirit societies have formed in Montana as well as in Denver, Minnesota, New York State, San Francisco, Seattle, Toronto, Tulsa, and elsewhere, organized around what members assert was once an honored status within nearly every tribe on the continent. Male-bodied Two Spirit people are found in many Native American and First Nations communities. In the past, they fulfilled traditionally male roles, such as fighting in wars and going to historically male activities like sweat lodge ceremonies. However, at the same time, they took on traditionally female tasks as well- cooking, washing, and childcare, for example- and often wore female dress. Author Gabriel Estrada says in Two Spirits,  Ndleeh, and LGBTQ2 Navajo Gaze that while not all indigenous nations have rigid gender roles, among tribes that do, the range includes feminine woman, masculine man, feminine man, and masculine woman. In many Native nations, the Two Spirit person found a role in their community as a shaman, visionary, keeper of oral traditions, matchmaker or marriage counselor, mediator in time of disputes, and caretaker of the vulnerable, such as children, the elderly, or injured warriors. They were often seen as sacred beings, whose dual genders were a gift from the Great Spirit. Historical Accounts We Wha (1849-1896), a Zuni, full length portrait. Photographer  John K. Hillers  /  Smithsonian Institution. Bureau of American Ethnology  / Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons During the colonization of North America, indigenous groups were still maintaining their traditions orally; there was no written history among the tribes. However, there was a fair amount of documentation among European invaders, many of whom kept journals of their travels. In California, Don Pedro Fages led a Spanish expedition into the territory during the late eighteenth century. He wrote in his diary of homosexual practices among the indigenous populations he encountered, describing Indian men who, both here and farther inland, are observed in the dress, clothing, and character of women- there being two or three such in each village. In 1722, a French explorer, Claude-Charles Le Roy, also called Bacqueville de La Potherie, described that among the Iroquois, there was an awareness of a third gender in other tribal groups. He said, Perhaps these male Iroquois are so horrified by [doing] women’s work because they have seen among the nations of the south some men who act like women, and give up men’s clothing for those of women. You see this very rarely among the Iroquois and they condemn this way of life by the light of Reason. It is likely that the group he referred to was the Cherokee Nation. A fur trader named Edwin T. Denig spent two decades with the Crow Nation in the early 1800s, and wrote that men who dressed as women and specialized in womens work were accepted and sometimes honored... Most civilized communities recognize but two genders, the masculine and feminine. But strange to say, these people have a neuter. Denig also wrote of a woman who led men into battle and had four wives. It is likely he was referring to a warrior known as Woman Chief. She was adopted by the Crow at age ten, and by all accounts was a tomboy, and only interested in male pursuits. Her adoptive father, whose sons had all been killed, encouraged her, and when he died, she took over his lodge and led men into battle against the Blackfoot. Details of Woman Chiefs exploits were chronicled by traders and other contemporaries, and it was generally acknowledged that she was a Two Spirit. Although the term Two Spirit itself is relatively new, the concept is not. There are numerous tribal-specific names, traditions, and roles among the different Native nations. The Lakota winkte were viewed as people who were neither male nor female, and whose androgyny was an inborn character trait, or the result of a sacred vision. They often occupied a distinct spiritual role in the community, fulfilling ceremonial duties that could not be performed by individuals who were male or only female. The winkte took on roles as seers, medicine people, healers. During times of battle, the visions of a winkte could guide warriors into their fight, and help determine steps taken by war chiefs. Among the Cheyenne, the HÄ“Ä“ mÄÆ'n Ä•h held a similar position. They accompanied warriors into battle and treated wounds after the fighting had ended, and cured the sick during times of peace. Wewha was a Zuni two-spirited person, or lhamana, who lived in the nineteenth century. She performed historically masculine spiritual and judicial roles, such as guiding religious ceremonies and serving as a mediator in disputes. However, she also spent time on traditionally feminine activities- sewing dresses, making pottery, weaving baskets, and other domestic pursuits. Controversy Over Scholarship There is some controversy in the Native community about Two Spirits- not about their existence, but about the modern notion that Native peoples historically described LGBTQ folks as two-spirited and celebrated them as healers and shamans. Mary Annette Pember, who is a journalist and member of the Ojibwe Nation, says that while Two Spirit is some empowering terminology, it also comes with some questionable scholarship. Pember points out that Native culture is based upon oral tradition, and much of what has been decided by anthropologists is based upon the writings of European conquerers, painting all Native tribes with the same brush. She says: [This] conveniently overlook[s] distinct cultural and language differences that Native peoples hold crucial to their identity... Years of colonization and appropriation by European invaders, as well as the well-intentioned religious hegemony that demonized our spirituality and way of life... has made Indian Country much like the rest of rural America in terms of enlightened treatment of LGBTQ folks. In fact, some tribes  have created laws  specifically banning same-sex marriage. Gender-variant individuals have a hard way to go, in and out of Indian Country. Although not all indigenous tribes viewed Two Spirit people the same way, overall it does appear that they were accepted as a perfectly routine part of the community. In general, each individual was judged for their contributions to the tribe, rather than for conformity to rigid gender roles. Two Spirits Today Jean Decay attends the Two-Spirit Pride Party at the Inaugural Indigenous Peoples Day Celebration. Chelsea Guglielmino / Getty Images Todays Two Spirit community is actively taking both new and traditional spiritual roles in their various nations. Tony Enos, of  Indian Country Today,  points out that Claiming the role of Two Spirit is to take up the spiritual responsibility that the role traditionally had. Walking the red road, being for the people and our children/youth, and being a guiding force in a good way with a good mind are just some of those responsibilities. He adds that service to the elders and youth of the community is an important part of maintaining the old cultural traditions. Modern Two Spirits publicly embrace the mixture of masculine and feminine within them, and there are Two Spirit societies all over North America. Gatherings, including powwows which are open to the public, are held regularly as a way of not only building community, but also of educating non-Natives about the world of the Two Spirit. Todays Two Spirits are taking on the ceremonial roles of those who came before them, working to facilitate spiritual events in their communities. They also work as activists and healers, and have been instrumental in bringing GLBT health issues to the forefront among the hundreds of Native tribes. By bridging the gap between gender roles and indigenous spirituality, todays Two Spirits are continuing the sacred work of their ancestors. Sources Estrada, Gabriel. â€Å"Two Spirits, Ndleeh, and LGBTQ2 Navajo Gaze.†Ã‚  American Indian Culture and Research Journal, vol. 35, no. 4, 2011, pp. 167–190., doi:10.17953/aicr.35.4.x500172017344j30.Leland, John. â€Å"A Spirit of Belonging, Inside and Out.†Ã‚  The New York Times, The New York Times, 8 Oct. 2006, www.nytimes.com/2006/10/08/fashion/08SPIRIT.html?_r0.Medicine, Beatrice. â€Å"Directions in Gender Research in American Indian Societies: Two Spirits and Other Categories.†Ã‚  Online Readings in Psychology and Culture, vol. 3, no. 1, 2002, doi:10.9707/2307-0919.1024.Pember, Mary Annette. â€Å"Two Spirit Tradition Far From Ubiquitous Among Tribes.†Ã‚  Rewire.News, Rewire.News, 13 Oct. 2016, rewire.news/article/2016/10/13/two-spirit-tradition-far-ubiquitous-among-tribes/.Smithers, Gregory D. â€Å"Cherokee ‘Two Spirits’: Gender, Ritual, and Spirituality in the Native South.†Ã‚  Early American Studies: An Interdisciplinary Jo urnal, vol. 12, no. 3, 2014, pp. 626–651., doi:10.1353/eam.2014.0023.

MiG-17 Fresco Soviet Fighter

MiG-17 Fresco Soviet Fighter With the introduction of the successful MiG-15 in 1949, the Soviet Union pressed forward with designs for a follow-on aircraft. Designers at Mikoyan-Gurevich began modifying the earlier aircrafts form to increase performance and handling. Among the changes that were made was the introduction of a compound swept wing which was set at a 45 ° angle near the fuselage and 42 ° farther outboard. In addition, the wing was thinner than the MiG-15 and the tail structure altered to improve stability at high speeds. For power, the MiG-17 relied on the older aircrafts Klimov VK-1 engine. First taking to the sky on January 14, 1950, with Ivan Ivashchenko at the controls, the prototype was lost two months later in a crash. Dubbed the SI, testing continued with additional prototypes for the next year and a half. A second interceptor variant, the SP-2, was also developed and featured the Izumrud-1 (RP-1) radar. Full-scale production of the MiG-17 began in August 1951 and the type received the NATO reporting name Fresco. As with its predecessor, the MiG-17 was armed with two 23 mm cannon and one 37 mm cannon mounted under the nose. MiG-17F Specifications General Length:  37 ft. 3 in.Wingspan:  31 ft. 7 in.Height:  12 ft. 6 in.Wing Area:  243.2 sq. ft.Empty Weight:  8,646 lbs.Crew:  1 Performance Power Plant:  1Ãâ€" Klimov VK-1F afterburning turbojetRange:  745 milesMax Speed:  670 mphCeiling:  54,500 ft. Armament 1 x 37 mm Nudelman N-37 cannon2 x 23 mm Nudelman-Rikhter NR-23 cannonsup t0 1,100 lbs. of external stores on two hardpoints Production Variants While the MiG-17 fighter and MiG-17P interceptor represented the first variants of the aircraft, they were replaced in 1953 with the arrival of the MiG-17F and MiG-17PF. These were equipped with the Klimov VK-1F engine which featured an afterburner and significantly improved the MiG-17s performance. As a result, this became the most produced type of the aircraft. Three years later, a small number of aircraft were converted to MiG-17PM and utilized the Kaliningrad K-5 air-to-air missile. While most MiG-17 variants possessed external hardpoints for around 1,100 lbs. in bombs, they were typically used for drop tanks. As production progressed in the USSR, they issued a license to their Warsaw Pacy ally Poland for building the aircraft in 1955. Built by WSK-Mielec, the Polish variant of the MiG-17 was designated Lim-5. Continuing production into the 1960s, the Poles developed attack and reconnaissance variants of the type. In 1957, the Chinese began license production of the MiG-17 under the name Shenyang J-5. Further developing the aircraft, they also built radar-equipped interceptors (J-5A) and a two-seat trainer (JJ-5). Production of this last variant continued until 1986. All told, over 10,000 MiG-17s of all types were built. Operational History Though arriving too late for service in the Korean War, the MiG-17s combat debut came in the Far East when Communist Chinese aircraft engaged Nationalist Chinese F-86 Sabres over the Straits of Taiwan in 1958. The type also saw extensive service against American aircraft during the Vietnam War. First engaging a group of US F-8 Crusaders on April 3, 1965, the MiG-17 proved surprisingly effective against more advanced American strike aircraft. A nimble fighter, the MiG-17 downed 71 American aircraft during the conflict and led the American flying services to institute improved dog-fighting training. Serving in over twenty air forces worldwide, it was used by the Warsaw Pact nations for much of the 1950s and early 1960s until being replaced by the MiG-19 and MiG-21. In addition, it saw combat with the Egyptian and Syrian Air Forces during Arab-Israeli conflicts including the 1956 Suez Crisis, the Six-Day War, the Yom Kippur War, and the 1982 invasion of Lebanon. Though largely retired, the MiG-21 is still in use with some air forces including China (JJ-5), North Korea, and Tanzania.