Essay --

Sparkles, Dancing, Jumping, and Music great combination or do you not agree? Figure Skating as a result was mashed up together to create such a beautiful but dangerous sport. Skating as a Winter Olympic sport has a long history and even with the proper equipment can be dangerous. Figure skating was originated in Europe, it was first stared by an American though named Jackson Haines. Jackson was born in New York in 1840 and died in 1875 in Finland from Tuberculosis. There was a big skating/dancing craze they called it because it swept America because of the combination that Haines did with bringing Dance into the rink. There was local skating clubs that had been formed and also competitions but nothing serious was made from it until some years after the 19th century. In 1921 was when Figure skating was made and officially created from a Skating Association (known as U.S. Figure Skating). When the Association was made later on through the years more associations made and now there are more than 600 association's throughout the country. Until the early '20s there were no standards set for you to be able to compete or to perform. Today there is there are tests, figure, free skating, moves in the field, pair, dance and synchronized team skating all of it is measured and judged by a lot of the different branches of the associations of the sport. It is said that over the years no other country has won more Figure Skating medals or been more passionate about the sport more than the United States. About all the attention went to the women's singles, because the U.S. Women have won seven Olympic titles, and some have transformed from Ice Princesses into Entertainment Icons. One of the women is Sasha Cohen she won a silver medal, Sarah H... ...which could take forever to put on. It takes a lot of labor to make a single dress, Longmire who has been designing costumes says that they have to be constructed carefully for close-up photography. Longmire says that it is basically a bathing suit because its just a one piece outfit. Figure skating has it's interesting history, also it has it's danger zones, and it has it's beautiful equipment which makes the whole experience amazing. The History is long and full of very bright and great icons that have made there mark on the ice. The Dangers can also teach you what the risks are before you try something so you know the consequences. The Equipment is what makes the whole performance come alive and it will make you, you if you had your personality to the outfit and the right touch to everything. Figure skating can be something interesting, dangerous, and fun to do.

Organisational Structure and Culture of the Oceans 11 Team Essay

Organisational Structure and Culture of the Oceans 11 Team 1.0 Executive Summary: The Department of Trade and Industry (DTI)[1] wished to review how the Ocean’s 11 team was formed and discuss by putting a management development programme together, the organisational behavioural aspects of the group. A vast amount of research was conducted in order to put together the management development programme together to show other organisations how to prevent problems within their group and avoid issues that will be mentioned in this programme. The main objectives of this report are to research and analyse what motivates a group or team in order to perform successfully and cohesively. To look at the leadership of a group and the different roles they play in terms of power they may hold, which leads onto conflict that may occur and could cause problems within the organisation. This will also incorporate the strategy the leader, if elected, uses in order to control and influence its organisations. In addition to the above, to investigate the communication skills of a group and how significant the experience of its members is, whilst looking at the attitudes present amongst them. The report will also examine the individual differences and perceptions of a team/group and sees how they can conjure an aim and how to achieve it. This will involve looking into the organisational structure and culture of the Oceans 11 team. All the above will use associated theories and models to analyse how the team was formed and backed up with relevant references. 2.0 Introduction: ----------------- This report intends to look at how our managerial development programme reflects groups and organisations and its concern with the improvement of the quality ... ...), Organisational Behaviour: Individuals, Groups, and the organisation, London, Pearson Education [20] Brooks, Ian (1999), Organisational Behaviour: Individuals, Groups, and the organisation, London, Pearson Education [21] Brooks, Ian (1999), Organisational Behaviour: Individuals, Groups, and the organisation, London, Pearson Education [22] Brooks, Ian (1999), Organisational Behaviour: Individuals, Groups, and the organisation, London, Pearson Education [23] Brooks, Ian (1999), Organisational Behaviour: Individuals, Groups, and the organisation, London, Pearson Education [24] Learning to Work in Groups - Matthew B. Miles [25] http://www.google.com [26] Brooks, Ian (1999), Organisational Behaviour: Individuals, Groups, and the organisation, London, Pearson Education [27] Organisational Behaviour Lectures [28] Ocean’s 11 Case Study

The Host Chapter 13: Sentenced

Are they here?† We choked out the words-they burst from us like the water in our lungs had, expelled. After water, this question was all that mattered. â€Å"Did they make it?† Uncle Jeb's face was impossible to read in the darkness. â€Å"Who?† he asked. â€Å"Jamie, Jared!† Our whisper burned like a shout. â€Å"Jared was with Jamie. Our brother! Are they here? Did they come? Did you find them, too?† There was barely a pause. â€Å"No.† His answer was forceful, and there was no pity in it, no feeling at all. â€Å"No,† we whispered. We were not echoing him, we were protesting against getting our life back. What was the point? We closed our eyes again and listened to the pain in our body. We let that drown out the pain in our mind. â€Å"Look,† Uncle Jeb said after a moment. â€Å"I, uh, have something to take care of. You rest for a bit, and I'll be back for you.† We didn't hear the meaning in his words, just the sounds. Our eyes stayed closed. His footsteps crunched quietly away from us. We couldn't tell which direction he went. We didn't care anyway. They were gone. There was no way to find them, no hope. Jared and Jamie had disappeared, something they knew well how to do, and we would never see them again. The water and the cooler night air were making us lucid, something we did not want. We rolled over, to bury our face against the sand again. We were so tired, past the point of exhaustion and into some deeper, more painful state. Surely we could sleep. All we had to do was not think. We could do that. We did. When we woke, it was still night, but dawn was threatening on the eastern horizon-the mountains were lined with dull red. Our mouth tasted of dust, and at first we were sure that we had dreamed Uncle Jeb's appearance. Of course we had. Our head was clearer this morning, and we noticed quickly the strange shape near our right cheek-something that was not a rock or a cactus. We touched it, and it was hard and smooth. We nudged it, and the delicious sound of sloshing water came from inside. Uncle Jeb was real, and he'd left us a canteen. We sat up carefully, surprised when we didn't break in two like a withered stick. Actually, we felt better. The water must have had time to work its way through some of our body. The pain was dull, and for the first time in a long while, we felt hungry again. Our fingers were stiff and clumsy as we twisted the cap from the top of the canteen. It wasn't all the way full, but there was enough water to stretch the walls of our belly again-it must have shrunk. We drank it all; we were done with rationing. We dropped the metal canteen to the sand, where it made a dull thud in the predawn silence. We felt wide awake now. We sighed, preferring unconsciousness, and let our head fall into our hands. What now? â€Å"Why did you give it water, Jeb?† an angry voice demanded, close behind our back. We whirled, twisting onto our knees. What we saw made our heart falter and our awareness splinter apart. There were eight humans half-circled around where I knelt under the tree. There was no question they were humans, all of them. I'd never seen faces contorted into such expressions-not on my kind. These lips twisted with hatred, pulled back over clenched teeth like wild animals. These brows pulled low over eyes that burned with fury. Six men and two women, some of them very big, most of them bigger than me. I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized why they held their hands so oddly-gripped tightly in front of them, each balancing an object. They held weapons. Some held blades-a few short ones like those I had kept in my kitchen, and some longer, one huge and menacing. This knife had no purpose in a kitchen. Melanie supplied the name: a machete. Others held long bars, some metal, some wooden. Clubs. I recognized Uncle Jeb in their midst. Held loosely in his hands was an object I'd never seen in person, only in Melanie's memories, like the big knife. It was a rifle. I saw horror, but Melanie saw all this with wonder, her mind boggling at their numbers. Eight human survivors. She'd thought Jeb was alone or, in the best case scenario, with only two others. To see so many of her kind alive filled her with joy. You're an idiot, I told her. Look at them. See them. I forced her to see it from my perspective: to see the threatening shapes inside the dirty jeans and light cotton shirts, brown with dust. They might have been human-as she thought of the word-once, but at this moment they were something else. They were barbarians, monsters. They hung over us, slavering for blood. There was a death sentence in every pair of eyes. Melanie saw all this and, though grudgingly, she had to admit that I was right. At this moment, her beloved humans were at their worst-like the newspaper stories we'd seen in the abandoned shack. We were looking at killers. We should have been wiser; we should have died yesterday. Why would Uncle Jeb keep us alive for this? A shiver passed through me at the thought. I'd skimmed through the histories of human atrocities. I'd had no stomach for them. Perhaps I should have concentrated better. I knew there were reasons why humans let their enemies live, for a little while. Things they wanted from their minds or their bodies†¦ Of course it sprang into my head immediately-the one secret they would want from me. The one I could never, never tell them. No matter what they did to me. I would have to kill myself first. I did not let Melanie see the secret I protected. I used her own defenses against her and threw up a wall in my head to hide behind while I thought of the information for the first time since implantation. There had been no reason to think of it before. Melanie was hardly even curious on the other side of the wall; she made no effort to break through it. There were much more immediate concerns than the fact that she had not been the only one keeping information in reserve. Did it matter that I protected my secret from her? I wasn't as strong as Melanie; I had no doubt she could endure torture. How much pain could I stand before I gave them anything they wanted? My stomach heaved. Suicide was a repugnant option-worse because it would be murder, too. Melanie would be part of either torture or death. I would wait for that until I had absolutely no other choice. No, they can't. Uncle Jeb would never let them hurt me. Uncle Jeb doesn't know you're here, I reminded her. Tell him! I focused on the old man's face. The thick white beard kept me from seeing the set of his mouth, but his eyes did not seem to burn like the others'. From the corner of my eye, I could see a few of the men shift their gaze from me to him. They were waiting for him to answer the question that had alerted me to their presence. Uncle Jeb stared at me, ignoring them. I can't tell him, Melanie. He won't believe me. And if they think I'm lying to them, they'll think I'm a Seeker. They must have experience enough to know that only a Seeker would come out here with a lie, a story designed for infiltration. Melanie recognized the truth of my thought at once. The very word Seeker made her recoil with hatred, and she knew these strangers would have the same reaction. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm a soul-that's enough for them. The one with the machete-the biggest man there, black-haired with oddly fair skin and vivid blue eyes-made a sound of disgust and spit on the ground. He took a step forward, slowly raising the long blade. Better fast than slow. Better that it was this brutal hand and not mine that killed us. Better that I didn't die a creature of violence, accountable for Melanie's blood as well as my own. â€Å"Hold it, Kyle.† Jeb's words were unhurried, almost casual, but the big man stopped. He grimaced and turned to face Melanie's uncle. â€Å"Why? You said you made sure. It's one of them.† I recognized the voice-he was the same one who'd asked Jeb why he'd given me water. â€Å"Well, yes, she surely is. But it's a little complicated.† â€Å"How?† A different man asked the question. He stood next to the big, dark-haired Kyle, and they looked so much alike that they had to be brothers. â€Å"See, this here is my niece, too.† â€Å"Not anymore she's not,† Kyle said flatly. He spit again and took another deliberate step in my direction, knife ready. I could see from the way his shoulders leaned into the action that words would not stop him again. I closed my eyes. There were two sharp metallic clicks, and someone gasped. My eyes flew open again. â€Å"I said hold it, Kyle.† Uncle Jeb's voice was still relaxed, but the long rifle was gripped tightly in his hands now, and the barrels were pointed at Kyle's back. Kyle was frozen just steps from me; his machete hung motionless in the air above his shoulder. â€Å"Jeb,† the brother said, horrified, â€Å"what are you doing?† â€Å"Step away from the girl, Kyle.† Kyle turned his back to us, whirling on Jeb in fury. â€Å"It's not a girl, Jeb!† Jeb shrugged; the gun stayed steady in his hands, pointed at Kyle. â€Å"There are things to be discussed.† â€Å"The doctor might be able to learn something from it,† a female voice offered gruffly. I cringed at the words, hearing in them my worst fears. When Jeb had called me his niece just now, I'd foolishly let a spark of hope flame to life-perhaps there would be pity. I'd been stupid to think that, even for a second. Death would be the only pity I could hope for from these creatures. I looked at the woman who'd spoken, surprised to see that she was as old as Jeb, maybe older. Her hair was dark gray rather than white, which is why I hadn't noticed her age before. Her face was a mass of wrinkles, all of them turning down into angry lines. But there was something familiar about the features behind the lines. Melanie made the connection between this ancient face and another, smoother face in her memory. â€Å"Aunt Maggie? You're here? How? Is Sharon -† The words were all Melanie, but they gushed from my mouth, and I was unable to stop them. Sharing for so long in the desert had made her stronger, or me weaker. Or maybe it was just that I was concentrating on which direction the deathblow was going to fall from. I was bracing for our murder, and she was having a family reunion. Melanie got only halfway through her surprised exclamation. The much-aged woman named Maggie lunged forward with a speed that belied her brittle exterior. She didn't raise the hand that held the black crowbar. That was the hand I was watching, so I didn't see her free hand swing out to slap me hard across the face. My head snapped back and then forward. She slapped me again. â€Å"You won't fool us, you parasite. We know how you work. We know how well you can mimic us.† I tasted blood inside my cheek. Don't do that again, I scolded Melanie. I told you what they'd think. Melanie was too shocked to answer. â€Å"Now, Maggie,† Jeb began in a soothing tone. â€Å"Don't you Now, Maggie' me, you old fool! She's probably led a legion of them down on us.† She backed away from me, her eyes measuring my stillness as if I were a coiled snake. She stopped beside her brother. â€Å"I don't see anyone,† Jeb retorted. â€Å"Hey!† he yelled, and I flinched in surprise. I wasn't the only one. Jeb waved his left hand over his head, the gun still clenched in the right. â€Å"Over here!† â€Å"Shut up,† Maggie growled, shoving his chest. Though I had good reason to know she was strong, Jeb didn't wobble. â€Å"She's alone, Mag. She was pretty much dead when I found her-she's not in such great shape now. The centipedes don't sacrifice their own that way. They would have come for her much sooner than I did. Whatever else she is, she's alone.† I saw the image of the long, many-legged insect in my head, but I didn't make the connection. He's talking about you, Melanie translated. She placed the picture of the ugly bug next to my memory of a bright silver soul. I didn't see a resemblance. I wonder how he knows what you look like, Melanie wondered absently. My memories of a soul's true appearance had been new to her in the beginning. I didn't have time to wonder with her. Jeb was walking toward me, and the others were close behind. Kyle's hand hovered at Jeb's shoulder, ready to restrain him or throw him out of the way, I couldn't tell. Jeb put his gun in his left hand and extended the right to me. I eyed it warily, waiting for it to hit me. â€Å"C'mon,† he urged gently. â€Å"If I could carry you that far, I woulda brought you home last night. You're gonna have to walk some more.† â€Å"No!† Kyle grunted. â€Å"I'm takin' her back,† Jeb said, and for the first time there was a harsher tone to his voice. Under his beard, his jaw flexed into a stubborn line. â€Å"Jeb!† Maggie protested. â€Å"‘S my place, Mag. I'll do what I want.† â€Å"Old fool!† she snapped again. Jeb reached down and grabbed my hand from where it lay curled into a fist against my thigh. He yanked me to my feet. It was not cruelty; it was merely as if he was in a hurry. Yet was it not the very worst form of cruelty to prolong my life for the reasons he had? I rocked unsteadily. I couldn't feel my legs very well-just prickles like needle points as the blood flowed down. There was a hiss of disapproval behind him. It came from more than one mouth. â€Å"Okay, whoever you are,† he said to me, his voice still kind. â€Å"Let's get out of here before it heats up.† The one who must have been Kyle's brother put his hand on Jeb's arm. â€Å"You can't just show it where we live, Jeb.† â€Å"I suppose it doesn't matter,† Maggie said harshly. â€Å"It won't get a chance to tell tales.† Jeb sighed and pulled a bandanna-all but hidden by his beard-from around his neck. â€Å"This is silly,† he muttered, but he rolled the dirty fabric, stiff with dry sweat, into a blindfold. I kept perfectly still as he tied it over my eyes, fighting the panic that increased when I couldn't see my enemies. I couldn't see, but I knew it was Jeb who put one hand on my back and guided me; none of the others would have been so gentle. We started forward, toward the north, I thought. No one spoke at first-there was just the sound of sand grinding under many feet. The ground was even, but I stumbled on my numb legs again and again. Jeb was patient; his guiding hand was almost chivalrous. I felt the sun rise as we walked. Some of the footsteps were faster than others. They moved ahead of us until they were hard to hear. It sounded like it was the minority that stayed with Jeb and me. I must not have looked like I needed many guards-I was faint with hunger, and I swayed with every step; my head felt dizzy and hollow. â€Å"You aren't planning to tell him, are you?† It was Maggie's voice; it came from a few feet behind me, and it sounded like an accusation. â€Å"He's got a right to know,† Jeb replied. The stubborn note was back in his voice. â€Å"It's an unkind thing you are doing, Jebediah.† â€Å"Life is unkind, Magnolia.† It was hard to decide who was the more terrifying of the two. Was it Jeb, who seemed so intent on keeping me alive? Or Maggie, who had first suggested the doctor-an appellation that filled me with instinctive, nauseated dread-but who seemed more worried about cruelty than her brother? We walked in silence again for a few hours. When my legs buckled, Jeb lowered me to the ground and held a canteen to my lips as he had in the night. â€Å"Let me know when you're ready,† Jeb told me. His voice sounded kind, though I knew that was a false interpretation. Someone sighed impatiently. â€Å"Why are you doing this, Jeb?† a man asked. I'd heard the voice before; it was one of the brothers. â€Å"For Doc? You could have just told Kyle that. You didn't have to pull a gun on him.† â€Å"Kyle needs a gun pulled on him more often,† Jeb muttered. â€Å"Please tell me this wasn't about sympathy,† the man continued. â€Å"After all you've seen†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"After all I've seen, if I hadn't learned compassion, I wouldn't be worth much. But no, it was not about sympathy. If I had enough sympathy for this poor creature, I would have let her die.† I shivered in the oven-hot air. â€Å"What, then?† Kyle's brother demanded. There was a long silence, and then Jeb's hand touched mine. I grasped it, needing the help to get back on my feet. His other hand pressed against my back, and I started forward again. â€Å"Curiosity,† Jeb said in a low voice. No one replied. As we walked, I considered a few sure facts. One, I was not the first soul they'd captured. There was already a set routine here. This â€Å"Doc† had tried to get his answer from others before me. Two, he had tried unsuccessfully. If any soul had forgone suicide only to crack under the humans' torture, they would not need me now. My death would have been mercifully swift. Oddly, I couldn't bring myself to hope for a quick end, though, or to try to effect that outcome. It would be easy to do, even without doing the deed myself. I would only have to tell them a lie-pretend to be a Seeker, tell them my colleagues were tracking me right now, bluster and threaten. Or tell them the truth-that Melanie lived on inside me, and that she had brought me here. They would see another lie, and one so richly irresistible-the idea that the human could live on after implantation-so tempting to believe from their perspective, so insidious, that they would believe I was a Seeker more surely than if I claimed it. They would assume a trap, get rid of me quickly, and find a new place to hide, far away from here. You're probably right, Melanie agreed. It's what I would do. But I wasn't in pain yet, and so either form of suicide was hard to embrace; my instinct for survival sealed my lips. The memory of my last session with my Comforter-a time so civilized it seemed to belong to a different planet-flashed through my head. Melanie challenging me to have her removed, a seemingly suicidal impulse, but only a bluff. I remembered thinking how hard it was to contemplate death from a comfortable chair. Last night Melanie and I had wished for death, but death had been only inches away at the time. It was different now that I was on my feet again. I don't want to die, either, Melanie whispered. But maybe you're wrong. Maybe that's not why they're keeping us alive. I don't understand why they would†¦ She didn't want to imagine the things they might do to us-I was sure she could come up with worse than I. What answer would they want from you that bad? I'll never tell. Not you, not any human. A bold declaration. But then, I wasn't in pain yet†¦ Another hour had passed-the sun was directly overhead, the heat of it like a crown of fire on my hair-when the sound changed. The grinding steps that I barely heard anymore turned to echoes ahead of me. Jeb's feet still crunched against the sand like mine, but someone in front of us had reached a new terrain. â€Å"Careful, now,† Jeb warned me. â€Å"Watch your head.† I hesitated, not sure what I was watching for, or how to watch with no eyes. His hand left my back and pressed down on my head, telling me to duck. I bent forward. My neck was stiff. He guided me forward again, and I heard our footsteps make the same echoing sound. The ground didn't give like sand, didn't feel loose like rock. It was flat and solid beneath my feet. The sun was gone-I could no longer feel it burn my skin or scorch my hair. I took another step, and a new air touched my face. It was not a breeze. This was stagnant-I moved into it. The dry desert wind was gone. This air was still and cooler. There was the faintest hint of moisture to it, a mustiness that I could both smell and taste. There were so many questions in my mind, and in Melanie's. She wanted to ask hers, but I kept silent. There was nothing either of us could say that would help us now. â€Å"Okay, you can straighten up,† Jeb told me. I raised my head slowly. Even with the blindfold, I could tell that there was no light. It was utterly black around the edges of the bandanna. I could hear the others behind me, shuffling their feet impatiently, waiting for us to move forward. â€Å"This way,† Jeb said, and he was guiding me again. Our footsteps echoed back from close by-the space we were in must have been quite small. I found myself ducking my head instinctively. We went a few steps farther, and then we rounded a sharp curve that seemed to turn us back the way we'd come. The ground started to slant downward. The angle got steeper with every step, and Jeb gave me his rough hand to keep me from falling. I don't know how long I slipped and skidded my way through the darkness. The hike probably felt longer than it was with each minute slowed by my terror. We took another turn, and then the floor started to climb upward. My legs were so numb and wooden that as the path got steeper, Jeb had to half drag me up the incline. The air got mustier and moister the farther we went, but the blackness didn't change. The only sounds were our footsteps and their nearby echoes. The pathway flattened out and began to turn and twist like a serpent. Finally, finally, there was a brightness around the top and bottom of my blindfold. I wished that it would slip, as I was too frightened to pull it off myself. It seemed to me that I wouldn't be so terrified if I could just see where I was and who was with me. With the light came noise. Strange noise, a low murmuring babble. It sounded almost like a waterfall. The babble got louder as we moved forward, and the closer it got, the less it sounded like water. It was too varied, low and high pitches mingling and echoing. If it had not been so discordant, it might have sounded like an uglier version of the constant music I'd heard and sung on the Singing World. The darkness of the blindfold suited that memory, the memory of blindness. Melanie understood the cacophony before I did. I'd never heard the sound because I'd never been with humans before. It's an argument, she realized. It sounds like so many people arguing. She was drawn by the sound. Were there more people here, then? That there were even eight had surprised us both. What was this place? Hands touched the back of my neck, and I shied away from them. â€Å"Easy now,† Jeb said. He pulled the blindfold off my eyes. I blinked slowly, and the shadows around me settled into shapes I could understand: rough, uneven walls; a pocked ceiling; a worn, dusty floor. We were underground somewhere in a natural cave formation. We couldn't be that deep. I thought we'd hiked upward longer than we'd slid downward. The rock walls and ceiling were a dark purpley brown, and they were riddled with shallow holes like Swiss cheese. The edges of the lower holes were worn down, but over my head the circles were more defined, and their rims looked sharp. The light came from a round hole ahead of us, its shape not unlike the holes that peppered the cavern, but larger. This was an entrance, a doorway to a brighter place. Melanie was eager, fascinated by the concept of more humans. I held back, suddenly worried that blindness might be better than sight. Jeb sighed. â€Å"Sorry,† he muttered, so low that I was certainly the only one to hear. I tried to swallow and could not. My head started to spin, but that might have been from hunger. My hands were trembling like leaves in a stiff breeze as Jeb prodded me through the big hole. The tunnel opened into a chamber so vast that at first I couldn't accept what my eyes told me. The ceiling was too bright and too high-it was like an artificial sky. I tried to see what brightened it, but it sent down sharp lances of light that hurt my eyes. I was expecting the babble to get louder, but it was abruptly dead quiet in the huge cavern. The floor was dim compared to the brilliant ceiling so far above. It took a moment for my eyes to make sense of all the shapes. A crowd. There was no other word for it-there was a crowd of humans standing stock-still and silent, all staring at me with the same burning, hate-filled expressions I'd seen at dawn. Melanie was too stunned to do anything more than count. Ten, fifteen, twenty†¦ twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven†¦ I didn't care how many there were. I tried to tell her how little it mattered. It wouldn't take twenty of them to kill me. To kill us. I tried to make her see how precarious our position was, but she was beyond my warnings at the moment, lost in this human world she'd never dreamed was here. One man stepped forward from the crowd, and my eyes darted first to his hands, looking for the weapon they would carry. His hands were clenched in fists but empty of any other threat. My eyes, adjusting to the dazzling light, made out the sun-gilded tint of his skin and then recognized it. Choking on the sudden hope that dizzied me, I lifted my eyes to the man's face.

Pressures Faced by Media Organizations During War Essay

While wars kill people, destroy lives and economies and create lasting hatreds, they often bring great benefits to a minority of people. Wars are great for the national cohesion of a country, wars allow unpopular rulers to gather support for themselves and rally the masses behind them. Wars may also benefit the manufacturers of arms and ammunition and military equipment, mercenary forces or other industries. Wartimes are often periods of great emotional upheaval and peoples’ patriotic and nationalistic feelings rise to a great intensity. During wars people are inclined to be less suspicious of government motives and more complaint to government commands and recommendations. However, generally wars cause much more harm than good and a section of the public often opposes war. During war times governments often rely on the national media to back their military policy and answer and refute the critics of war in their behalf. Media organizations face pressure from the government, the masses, the corporations and the military to conceal or distort facts or to report the war in a certain way. In a democratic country, the citizens depend on the media to inform them objectively whether a certain governmental policy is in their best interests or not. Often the rulers of a country decide to go to war, while the people are reluctant. In such situations the government may pressurize media organizations to convince the public of the need for war. This situation occurred in the United States at the start of the World War I. The American public saw no reason to enter war against Germany at the behalf of Britain. The President Woodrow Wilson, on the other hand pledged to enter war in the aid of Britain. In April 1917 as the US entered the war, Wilson formed the Committee on Public Information (CPI) to convince the American intellectuals to support US entry into the war. The committee flooded the country with speakers and propaganda posters. Newspapers were flooded with news releases denouncing the Germans and leveling true and false accusations at them (Ponder). While at war governments often wish that the war be seen as a moral cause, wars that are fought for mercenary reasons or out of a misguided or extreme conception of patriotism are portrayed as morally sanctioned campaign to bring about a noble goal. Members of the media are expected to use this narrative in their reporting. Those who question the righteousness of the cause may face punitive actions of various types. During the Vietnam War, the media was employed by the American government as a tool against the anti-war movement. Anti-war protesters were portrayed as traitors, giving aid and comfort to the Vietcong and North Vietnamese enemy. It was not until a large number of elected officials had declared their opposition to the ongoing war, that it became acceptable for the media to discuss the motives and assumptions behind the conflict and the righteousness of America’s cause. However the general tone of the war coverage was highly ‘patriotic’ as if the presence of the US forces in Vietnam were most natural and it were the Vietcong who were foreign invaders (Hallin). Compared to previous administrations, the Nixon administration had to face a lot more public skepticism and widespread anti-war sentiments. The television networks too, started showing a lot more criticism of the administrations war policies. The administrations response was to appeal to the affiliate TV channels, which were mostly owned by rich, white, conservatives, to bear pressure upon the news networks to reduce the extent of their criticism (Hallin). The success of the establishment’s efforts to present the war as a moral goal is heavily dependant upon the public’s perception of the enemy as the epitome of evil. Therefore the establishment may try to suppress any discussion in the media that portrays the enemy as having any positive quality whatsoever. Soon after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, comedian Bill Maher, on his TV show ‘Politically Incorrect’ questioned President Bush’s comment that the attackers were cowardly. One of the guests on the show, political analyst Dinesh D’Souza replied that the word was inaccurate when applied to the attackers, they were not cowards but warriors, agreeing with him Maher said, â€Å"We have been the cowards, lobbing cruise missiles from 2,000 miles away. That’s cowardly. Staying in the airplane when it hits the building, say what you want about it, it’s not cowardly. † (Jones) This comment provoked a storm of fury in the public, in the media and the government. The comment was condemned by President Bush’s spokesman Ari Fleischer who said, â€Å"There are reminders to all Americans that they need to watch what they say, watch what they do and this is not a time for remarks like that; there never is. † (Jones). As a result of the controversy generated by the comment, the show ‘Politically Incorrect’ was deprived of advertising revenue and was cancelled a few months later (Jones). One of the most common themes employed in pro-war propaganda is the identification of the military campaign as a campaign for the human rights of ordinary people. This propaganda is severely threatened by the news of civilian causalities. Therefore governments at war wish may wish to suppress or minimize the impact of news mentioning civilian casualties caused as a result of their soldiers’ actions. In order to portray the conflict with the enemy as a struggle between good and evil it is necessary to minimize any wrong doings or atrocities committed by the national and allied armed forces. Often reporters learning of a story involving atrocities by their own side feel pressured to hide these atrocities altogether. Reporters may also fear that if they report anything negative about the military, their access to the frontlines will be curtailed. In addition for reporters who are embedded within a military unit, within a few days of facing the same dangers as the troops, their identification with the unit may make it extremely difficult for them to make an objective assessment of a situation. During the Korean War, in the summer of 1950, the United States forces gunned down hundreds of South Korean refugees at No Gun Ri, believing them to be North Korean infiltrators. This massacre and other lesser ones were covered up by the American reporters because they believed that publishing the story might harm the war effort. It was not until 1999 that the No Gun Ri massacre was reported in the American Media (Penri). In Vietnam, the journalist Morley Safer, who revealed a number of atrocities on the part of the American military was especially the target of government wrath. Military officials attempted to have him barred from the war zone and recalled by his news agency (Hammond). In order to keep public support behind the war, the government may wish to give the impression that the war effort is succeeding very well even when the facts are to the contrary. The government may try to restrict the broadcast of certain types of information such as causality figures. During the Vietnam War, the American forces were fighting a smaller, clandestine war in Laos. In order to prevent the news of this clandestine war becoming public, the casualty figures for the Vietnam war were expanded to include the casualties in Laos under the heading â€Å"Casualties incurred by the US . military personnel in connection with the conflict in Vietnam† (Hammond). During the present day Iraq and Afghanistan wars, the Bush government forbade the media from publishing photographs of flag draped coffins of American soldiers shipped back from Afghanistan and Iraq, on the basis that it would undermine the morale of the public. The government may also fear that news of military setbacks received by the national forces may turn public opinion against the war. In World War II, news of setbacks suffered by the US forces in the South Pacific were severely censored. If it became clear that there was no way to hide the news from being broadcasted, media sources would be instructed to wait until a victory had been achieved, the news of the setback in one area would then be paired up with the news of victory in another area to lessen the impact of the bad news (Carpenter). On occasion members of international media organizations may be regarded as a hostile force by a side in a conflict due to their refusal to ascribe to a code of self-censorship or due to perceived bias in their news reports. These media organizations may then face violence at the hands of military forces. The Qatari television channel Al-Jazeera may have been the object of this treatment in the present day Afghanistan and Iraq wars. In November 2001, a bomb dropped from a US warplane destroyed the Al-Jazeera office in Kabul. Al-Jazeera executives alleged that the US military had been informed of the coordinates of their office beforehand and that the bombing was deliberate (Wells). Al-Jazeera was again the alleged target of US attack in Iraq. Al-Jazeera interviewed Allied military personnel captured by Iraqi forces as well as the massive civilian losses caused by the allied bombing. Neoconservative intellectuals close to the Bush administration, such as Frank Gaffney advocated the use of the US military against Al-Jazeera, alleging that it was the mouthpiece of Saddam Hussein and al-Qaida. In November 2005, the British publication The Daily Mirror alleged the existence of a memo from the British Prime Ministers office that claimed that President Bush considered bombing al-Jazeera offices in Qatar in discussions with the Prime Minister Tony Blair and that Blair talked him out of it (Mcguire and Lines). The conduct of war often becomes a point of contention between rival groups in a government, this may lead to politically motivated intentional ‘leaks’ of sensitive information to the media. These ‘leaks’ may consist of partial, distorted or fabricated information, giving people a distorted view of the reality of issues. Since news media organizations are always looking to gain an advantage over their competitors they may decide to publish this unverified information thereby becoming unwitting tools in the hands of a faction in the government. During the Iraq War, the identity of CIA operative Valerie Plame was leaked to the press, the leak was seen as a reprisal against Plame’s husband Joseph C.  Wilson IV who had refuted President Bush’s assertion that President Hussein of Iraq was seeking to build nuclear weapons in a column in ‘Times’ (Werther). Modern news media attempts to serve several masters at once. In order to get to cover a war a make a profit they have to keep the military, the people, the administration and the affiliates happy. The professional responsibility of a journalist to report only the truth often takes a b ackseat to these considerations.

A Doll’s House and the Macaroon

Gloria Nguyen Period 5 2010 February 24 A significant symbol in A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen are the macaroons that show up several times within the course of the play because it shows that Nora is not truthful to Torvald and that their household is tangled up in a web of deceit. â€Å"She slips the bag of macaroons in her pocket and wipes her mouth†¦ †. Nora knows that Torvald dislikes her spending money on guilty pleasures like macaroons so she tries to hide them, just as she tries to hide the truth of her bond and debts. The macaroons also show that Nora is uncomfortable with all of the rules and regulations Torvald has set up and that she has her own will and mind set. When Torvald asks her if she had any macaroons, she immediately responded with â€Å"No, Torvald, really; I promise you. It shows that she may have a different set of morals than Torvald and that she is not at all comfortable in her living situation and Torvald is not one of her confidants like Dr. Rank and Mrs. Linde. The macaroons show that Nora is not the perfect doll that Torvald tried to mold her into. The macaroons function in the text was to show that although that some families and lives seem picture perfect, most of the time it is not true, as proven by Nora’s need to hide the bond and macaroons from Torvald. The macaroons could also represent Nora’s want to be independent and free, that she wants to rebel and be someone of her own making as opposed to being Torvald’s little â€Å"songbird†, â€Å"squirrel† and â€Å"capricious Capri†. Ibsen’s use of symbolism in using such a minor pleasure impacts the story in a huge way by subtly showing the reader that Nora’s lifestyle is not as truthful and happy as it seems and that something as small as an innocent white lie about macaroons can set the precedent of lies that are to come.

The BMW M5 has the capacity

The BMW M5 has the capacity of a sedan and it excels like a sports car in terms of performance.The car has spacious seats and effective temperature control system to ensure a comfortable ride. Independent suspension for all the four wheels improves overall handling of the car. The M5 does not slack behind in the entertainment department either and offers a host of features including a high-end music system and high-definition radio. The car is very stable under almost any road condition including slippery ice roads, sandy surfaces and rain-slicked roads using its dynamic stability control system.The car also has an on-board GPS navigation system and recognizes voice commands from the driver. BMW lays great emphasis on safety; its cars are very sturdily built with state-of-the-art safety features such as head protection system, automatic-locking retractors for seatbelts, and side airbags to provide additional protection.The M5 also has an Impact sensor to automatically turn off the ig nition and fuel supply, and switches on the emergency lights in the event of an accident. In terms of after-sales service, BMW guarantees free maintenance for either four years or fifty thousand miles. This service is inclusive of standard servicing as well as free replacement of items that wear off. BMW has also recently introduced a tele-service called BMW Safety Plan which enables the car to directly contact the service center when it needs service.BMW is a German automobile manufacturer which has a rich tradition of building reliable cars and has earned worldwide recognition among general consumers as well as motorcar enthusiasts. The BMW M5 is a brand family. It falls under the ‘Motor vehicles and car bodies’ industry category and its corresponding SIC code is 3711 (Business & Company Resource Center).DaimlerChrysler, Ford, Volkswagen, General Motors, Ducati, Fiat, Harley-Davidson, Honda, Kawasaki Heavy Industries and Mazda are some of the competitors of BMW in thi s category. Following are some of the factors that make BMW a compelling choice for any car buyer,

Jewish Research Paper Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 4750 words

Jewish - Research Paper Example This started with the people who occupied the area that was between the Nile, the Euphrates and the Tigris rivers. The land of Cannan, which was later called as Isreal was surrounded by ancient seats of cultural manifestations within Egypt and Babylonia as well as the deserts of Arabia. It was also encircles by the highlands that came from the Asia Minor. This indeed was an area that saw a number of civilizations coming to the fore of each other. This area was negotiated by the age-old trade links and thus comprised of the significant harbors on the Gulf of Akaba as well as on the Mediterranean coast where it exposed towards the influential patterns of a number of other cultures, most of which hailed from the Fertile Crescent. This paper takes a keen look at the Jewish historical basis and studies in-depth the different representations of culture, arts and politics within the world of Judaism. Conventionally it has been seen that the Jews all over the world have claimed that their descent has been mostly lying within the ancient Israelites, the ones who settled within the initial land of Israel. It is for this manner that the Israelites have long and hard traced their shared lineage with Abraham who was the biblical patriarch through Isaac and Jacob, both of whom were Hebrews and essentially the descendants of Eber. On the same token, the Jewish beliefs hold fast on to the claim that the Israelites were indeed the descendants of Jacob's 12 sons, one of whom was Judah who initially settled within Egypt. It was within Egypt that their descendants were put to slavery by the Egyptian pharaoh, who was often known by the name of Ramses II. When one studies the ancient conventional basis of the Jews, there is evidence in the fact that the Jewish Israelites left their country, Egypt being their own to Canaan which was essentially led by their prophet Moses. What this event did wa s to mark the very basis of formation of the Israelites as a nation, which was later divided into twelve different tribes, all of whom are kept after Jacob's sons. Jewish tradition as well as the Bible, the time from Genesis towards the Malachi has told that the Israelites moved about in a freely roaming fashion within the deserts for more than four decades after which they were able to conquer Canaan under the aegis of Joshua, thus dividing the very land amongst the twelve varied tribes. There was a period of time within the Jewish history when the twelve different tribes were led by a series of judges who were essentially the rulers themselves. After this period had passed, an Israelite monarchy was instituted upon within the land under the aegis of Saul as he continued to work under King David and Solomon, the latter being his son. Since King David was the ruler of the time, he made his mark by conquering Jerusalem, where his mode of attack included capturing a Canaanite and late r on a Jebusite town, where he made the same as the capital. King David's son was proactive in his approach as he constructed the First Temple within Jerusalem. Later on, Solomon's period in office was further divided into a couple of kingdoms - Israel which consisted of ten different tribes within the north, and Judah that entailed of those tribes within Judah and Benjamin, both of which lied in the south. Assyrian ruler Shalmaneser V captured Israel in the 8th century BCE. Unfortunately there is no evidence in the f