The History of the Ford Mustang :: essays research papers fc

It seems that almost everyone has a favorite Mustang. With so many different generations of the Muscle Car to choose from the list is varied. To some, a Candy Apple Red 65’ with a 289 is the best ever. Or how about a fastback with the HighPower V8 and GT package? Ever heard the rumble from a Boss 302? And yet others consider the 5.0 Liter Mustangs the best largely because of the variety of low cost add-on parts available. These cars are inexpensive to buy and modify. And then there is the Cobras no matter what year or body style the Cobras come of the factory line ready to go â€Å"Run’em†. In the early 60s’ the only American sports car was the Corvette at a price to costly for many young Americans. The Thunderbird was basically a luxury car at the time. As a result Imported sports cars were selling well. Within a few years the post-war baby boomers would be buying their first car. The Mustang II concept car generated allot of excitement and led directly to the first Mustang less than a year later. Ford was unaware how popular the car would be. They announced when the first television commercial would be shown and many Americans tuned in to see it. The next day, the first day of availability, Ford sold 22,000 mustangs. The 19641/2, as it was later called, was available in only two models: the coupe and convertible. Both models featured a lengthened hood and shortened rear deck, chrome wrap-around bumpers, chrome grille with a running horse, and full wheel covers. Both models were available with a 170 cid, 101 horsepower, 6 cylinder engine, a 260-2V, 164 horsepower V-8, a 289-4V, 210 horsepower V-8 and, starting in June, a fire breathing, 4 barrel, solid lifter, 271 horsepower, 289 cid V-8 engine. The buyer had a choice of a 3 speed, 4 speed or automatic transmission, and a variety of rear end gear ratios. The interior featured "wall-to-wall" carpeting, front bucket seats or an optional front bench seat, rear bench seat, a sports car style steering wheel, floor mounted shifter, and full headliner (Kowalke). There were a total of 121,538 Mustangs produced during the 6412 model run (Mustang) . 1965 brought few changes for the Mustang. The biggest change was the availability of a new fastback model, which was to become the basis for Carroll Shelby's G.T. 350. The 120 horsepower, 200 cid 6 cylinder engine replaced the 170 cid 6 cylinder, the 289-2V, 200 horsepower V-8 replaced the 260-2V, the 289-4V was upgraded to 225 horsepower, and the 289-4V hi-po remained unchanged

The Catholic Church: A Cult In Mainstream Society Essay -- essays rese

When one hears of a cult, one thinks of organizations such as the Church of Scientology, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and small fanatical groups such as the Assembly of God. According to Robert J. Lofton, author of Letters to an Elder, there are two kinds of cults; those that use mind-control, and those that do not. Lofton describes eight characteristics of destructive mind-control cults, saying, â€Å"If any group exercises all eight of these control elements, they are, in fact a destructive mind control cult†. Lofton’s characteristics are ‘Environmental Control’, ‘Mystical Manipulation’, ‘Demand for Purity’, ‘Cult of Confession’, ‘Sacred Science’, ‘Loading the Language’, ‘Doctrine over Person’, and ‘Dispensing of Existence’. These eight characteristics are found not only in the organizations mentioned earlier, but also in more mainstream organizations. The Roman Catholic Church exhibits all eight characteristics very strongly, making it fit the profile of a destructive mind-control cult. Lofton’s first characteristic, ‘Environmental Control’, refers to the manner in which the cult keeps its members from becoming disillusioned about the cult though outside sources or ex-members. Members â€Å"can be physically separated from society or they can be warned to stay away from media that might provoke critical thinking.† In 1934, the Catholic Church formed â€Å"The Legion of Decency†¦to combat immoral movies†. The Legion of Decency rated movies, periodicals, and other such materials and set the standard for Catholics across the world. The Legion condemned such movies as â€Å"Jesus Christ† for blasphemy and heresy, as well as recommending against many other movies of questionable nature. The Legion controlled the environment of Catholics and isolated them from media that was critical of the Church or was deemed inappropriate for viewing by Catholics. The second characteristic of destructive mind-control cults is ‘Mystical Manipulation’. â€Å"Leaders [of the cult] become mediators for God†¦ the cult and its beliefs become the only true path to salvation†. By providing the only way for members to reach salvation, the cult becomes a necessary and inescapable part of the member’s life. In the Catholic Church, the Pope is said to be in contact with God, and to have a greater measure of communication with him than the other members of the Church. On a local level, each priest is the congregati... ...he American Religious Scene. Doubleday: New York, 1971 Karson, Jill. Cults. Greenhaven Press: CA, 2000. Kavanaugh, Father James. A Modern Priest Looks at His Outdated Church. Trident: New York, 1967. Kephart, Rick. A Brief History of the Legion of Decency. 4 Nov 2000 . McCabe, Joseph. â€Å"Catholics The Most Priest-Ridden Of All People.† The Tyranny of the Clerical Gestapo. 4 Nov. 2000. . Miller, MaryAnn. Coping With Cults. Rosen Publishing Group: New York, 1990. Noll, Richard. When Catholics Die: Eternal Life or Eternal Damnation? The Olive Press: SC, 1999. O’Neill, James M. Catholicism and American Freedom. Harper: New York, 1952. â€Å"Science and the Church.† New Advend Catholic Encyclopedia. 4 Nov. 2000 . Shields, Currin. Democracy and Catholicism in America. McGraw-Hill: New York, 1958. Sikorski, R. J. Letters to an Elder. 4 Nov. 2000 . Wells, H.G. Crux Ansata: An indictment of the Roman Catholic Church. American Atheist Press: TX, 1981.

The Vampire Diaries: Dark Reunion Chapter Twelve

Stefan heard a voice whisper, soft with pain, â€Å"Oh, no.† A voice that he'd never thought to hear again, that he would never forget. Ripples of chills poured over his skin, and he could feel a shaking start inside him. He turned toward the voice, his attention fixing instantly, his mind almost shutting down because it couldn't cope with so many sudden driving emotions at once. His eyes were blurred and could only discern a wash of radiance like a thousand candles. But it didn't matter. He could feel her there. The same presence he had sensed the very first day he'd come to Fell's Church, a golden white light that shone into his consciousness. Full of cool beauty and searing passion and vibrant life. Demanding that he move toward it, that he forget everything else. Elena. It was really Elena. Her presence pervaded him, filling him to his fingertips. All his hungry senses were fixed on that wash of luminance, searching for her. Needing her. Then she stepped out. She moved slowly, hesitantly. As if she could barely make herself do it. Stefan was caught in the same paralysis. Elena. He saw her every feature as if for the first time. The pale gold hair floating about her face and shoulders like a halo. The fair, flawless skin. The slender, supple body just now canted away from him, one hand raised in protest. â€Å"Stefan,† the whisper came, and it was her voice. Her voice saying his name. But there was such pain in it that he wanted to run to her, hold her, promise her that everything would be all right. â€Å"Stefan, please†¦ I can't†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He could see her eyes now. The dark blue of lapis lazuli, flecked in this light with gold. Wide with pain and wet with unshed tears. It shredded his guts. â€Å"You don't want to see me?† His voice was dry as dust. â€Å"I don't want you to see me. Oh, Stefan, he can make anything happen. And he'll find us. He'll come here†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Relief and aching joy flooded through Stefan. He could scarcely concentrate on her words, and it didn't matter. The way she said his name was enough. That â€Å"Oh, Stefan† told him everything he cared about. He moved toward her quietly, his own hand coming up to reach for hers. He saw the protesting shake of her head, saw that her lips were parted with her quickening breath. Up close, her skin had an inner glow, like a flame shining through translucent candle wax. Droplets of wetness were caught on her eyelashes like diamonds. Although she kept shaking her head, kept protesting, she did not move her hand away. Not even when his outspread fingers touched it, pressing against her cool fingertips as if they were on opposite sides of a pane of glass. He couldn't think. His heart was threatening to come through his chest. Nothing mattered except that she was here, that they were here together. He didn't notice the strange surroundings, didn't care who might be watching. Slowly, so slowly, he closed his hand around hers, intertwining their fingers, the way they were meant to be. His other hand lifted to her face. Her eyes closed at the touch, her cheek leaning into it. He felt the moisture on his fingers and a laugh caught in his throat. Dream tears. But they were real, she was real. Elena. Sweetness pierced him. A pleasure so sharp it was a pain, just to stroke the tears away from her face with his thumb. All the frustrated tenderness of the last six months, all the emotion he'd kept locked in his heart that long, came cascading out, submerging him. Drowning both of them. It took such a little movement and then he was holding her. An angel in his arms, cool and thrilling with life and beauty. A being of flame and air. She shivered in his embrace; then, eyes still shut, put up her lips. There was nothing cool about the kiss. It struck sparks from Stefan's nerves, melting and dissolving everything around it. He felt his control unraveling, the control he'd worked so hard to preserve since he'd lost her. Everything inside him was being jarred loose, all knots untied, all floodgates opened. He could feel his own tears as he held her to him, trying to fuse them into one flesh, one body. So that nothing could ever separate them again. They were both crying without breaking the kiss. Elena's slender arms were around his neck now, every inch of her fitting to him as if she had never belonged anywhere else. He could taste the salt of her tears on his lips and it drenched him with sweetness. He knew, vaguely, that there was something else he should be thinking about. But the first electric touch of her cool skin had driven reason from his mind. They were in the center of a whirlwind of fire; the universe could explode or crumble or burn to ashes for all he cared, as long as he could keep her safe. But Elena was trembling. Not just from emotion, from the intensity that was making him dizzy and drunk with pleasure. From fear. He could feel it in her mind and he wanted to protect her, to shield her and to cherish her and to kill anything that dared frighten her. With something like a snarl he raised his face to look around. â€Å"What is it?† he said, hearing the predator's rasp in his own voice. â€Å"Anything that tries to hurt you-â€Å" â€Å"Ask me anything else and I'll do it,† Stefan said. The killer would have to shred him nerve from nerve, muscle from muscle, cell from cell to make him leave her. â€Å"Stefan, it's only a dream,† Elena said desperately, new tears falling. â€Å"We can't really touch, we can't be together. It's not allowed.† Stefan didn't care. It didn't seem like a dream. It felt real. And even in a dream he was not going to give up Elena, not for anyone. No force in heaven or hell could make him†¦ â€Å"Wrong, sport. Surprise!† said a new voice, a voice Stefan had never heard. He recognized it instinctively, though, as the voice of a killer. A hunter among hunters. And when he turned, he remembered what Vickie, poor Vickie, had said. He looks like the devil. If the devil was handsome and blond. He wore a threadbare raincoat, as Vickie had described. Dirty and tattered. He looked like any street person from any big city, except that he was so tall and his eyes were so clear and penetrating. Electric blue, like razor-frosted sky. His hair was almost white, standing straight up as if blown by a blast of chilly wind. His wide smile made Stefan feel sick. â€Å"Salvatore, I presume,† he said, scraping a bow. â€Å"And of course the beautiful Elena. The beautiful dead Elena. Come to join her, Stefan? You two were just meant to be together.† He looked young, older than Stefan, but still young. He wasn't. â€Å"Stefan, leave now,† Elena whispered. â€Å"He can't hurt me, but you're different. He can make something happen that will follow you out of the dream.† Stefan's arm stayed locked around her. â€Å"Bravo!† the man in the raincoat applauded, looking around as if to encourage an invisible audience. He staggered slightly, and if he'd been human, Stefan would have thought he was drunk. â€Å"Stefan, please,† Elena whispered. â€Å"It would be rude to leave before we've even been properly introduced,† the blond man said. Hands in coat pockets, he strode a step or two closer. â€Å"Don't you want to know who I am?† Elena shook her head, not in negation but in defeat, and dropped it to Stefan's shoulder. He cupped a hand around her hair, wanting to shield every part of her from this madman. â€Å"I want to know,† he said, looking at the blond man over her head. â€Å"How long?† said Stefan, unimpressed. â€Å"A long time†¦Ã¢â‚¬  The blond man's gaze turned dreamy, as if looking back over the years. â€Å"I was tearing pretty white throats when your ancestors were building the Colosseum. I killed with Alexander's army. I fought in the Trojan War. I'm old, Salvatore. I'm one of the Originals. In my earliest memories I carried a bronze ax.† Slowly, Stefan nodded. He'd heard of the Old Ones. They were whispered about among vampires, but no one Stefan had ever known had actually met one. Every vampire was made by another vampire, changed by the exchange of blood. But somewhere, back in time, had been the Originals, the ones who hadn't been made. They were where the line of continuity stopped. No one knew how they'd gotten to be vampires themselves. But their Powers were legendary. â€Å"I helped bring the Roman Empire down,† the blond man continued dreamily. â€Å"They called us barbarians-they just didn't understand! War, Salvatore! There's nothing like it. Europe was exciting then. I decided to stick around the countryside and enjoy myself. Strange, you know, people never really seemed comfortable around me. They used to run or hold up crosses.† He shook his head. â€Å"But one woman came and asked my help. She was a maid in a baron's household, and her little mistress was sick. Dying, she said. She wanted me to do something about it. And so†¦Ã¢â‚¬  The smile returned and broadened, getting wider and impossibly wider, â€Å"I did. She was a pretty little thing.† Stefan had turned his body to hold Elena away from the blond man, and now, for a moment, he turned his head away too. He should have known, should have guessed. And so it all came back to him. Vickie's death, and Sue's, were ultimately to be laid at his door. He had started the chain of events that ended here. â€Å"Katherine,† he said, lifting his head to look at the man. â€Å"You're the vampire who changed Katherine.† â€Å"To save her life,† the blond man said, as if Stefan were stupid at learning a lesson. â€Å"Which your little sweetheart here took.† A name. Stefan was searching for a name in his mind, knowing that Katherine had told it to him, just as she must have described this man to him once. He could hear Katherine's words in his mind: I woke in the middle of the night and I saw the man that Gudren, my maid, had brought. I was frightened. His name was Klaus and I'd heard the people in the village say he was evil †¦ â€Å"Klaus,† the blond man said mildly, as if agreeing with something. â€Å"That was what she called me, anyway. She came back to me after two little Italian boys jilted her. She'd done everything for them, changed them into vampires, given them eternal life, but they were ungrateful and threw her out. Very strange.† â€Å"What was even stranger was that she never got over you, Salvatore. You especially. She was always drawing unflattering comparisons between us. I tried to beat some sense into her, but it never really worked. Maybe I should have just killed her myself, I don't know. But by then I'd gotten used to having her around. She never was the brightest. But she was good to look at, and she knew how to have fun. I showed her that, how to enjoy the killing. Eventually her brain turned a little, but so what? It wasn't her brains I was keeping her for.† There was no longer any vestige of love for Katherine in Stefan's heart, but he found he could still hate the man who had made her what she was in the end. â€Å"Me? Me, sport?† Klaus pointed to his own chest in unbelief. â€Å"You made Katherine into what she is right now, or rather your little girlfriend did. Right now, she's dust. Worm's meat. But your sweetie is just slightly beyond my reach at present. Vibrating on a higher plane, isn't that what the mystics say, Elena? Why don't you vibrate down here with the rest of us?† â€Å"If only I could,† whispered Elena, lifting her head and looking at him with hatred. â€Å"Oh, well. Meanwhile I've got your friends. Sue was such a sweet girl, I hear.† He licked his lips. â€Å"And Vickie was delectable. Delicate but full bodied, with a nice bouquet. More like a nineteen-year-old than seventeen.† Stefan lunged one step forward, but Elena caught him. â€Å"Stefan, don't! This is his territory, and his mental powers are stronger than ours. He controls it.† â€Å"Precisely. This is my territory. Unreality.† Klaus grinned his staring psychotic grin again. â€Å"Where your wildest nightmares come true, free of charge. For instance,† he said, looking at Stefan, â€Å"how'd you like to see what your sweetheart really looks like right now? Without her makeup?† Elena made a soft sound, almost a moan. Stefan held her tighter. â€Å"It's been how long since she died? About six months? Do you know what happens to a body once it's been in the ground six months?† Klaus licked his lips again, like a dog. Now Stefan understood. Elena shivered, head bent, and tried to move away from him, but he locked his arms around her. â€Å"It's all right,† he said to her softly. And to Klaus: â€Å"You're forgetting yourself. I'm not a human who jumps at shadows and the sight of blood. I know about death, Klaus. It doesn't frighten me.† â€Å"No, but does it thrill you?† Klaus's voice dropped, low, intoxicating. â€Å"Isn't it exciting, the stench, the rot, the fluids of decomposing flesh? Isn't it a kick?† â€Å"Stefan, let me go. Please.† Elena was shaking, pushing at him with her hands, all the time keeping her head twisted away so he couldn't see her face. Her voice sounded close to tears. â€Å"Please.† â€Å"The only Power you have here is the power of illusion,† Stefan said to Klaus. He held Elena to him, cheek pressed to her hair. He could feel the changes in the body he embraced. The hair under his cheek seemed to coarsen and Elena's form to shrink on itself. â€Å"Stefan, I don't want you to look at me-â€Å" Eyes on Klaus, Stefan gently pushed the coarsened white hair away and stroked the side of Elena's face, ignoring the roughness against his fingertips. â€Å"But of course most of the time it just decomposes. What a way to go. You lose everything, skin, flesh, muscles, internal organs-all back into the ground†¦Ã¢â‚¬  The body in Stefan's arms was dwindling. He shut his eyes and held tighter, hatred for Klaus burning inside him. An illusion, it was all an illusion†¦ â€Å"Stefan†¦Ã¢â‚¬  It was a dry whisper, faint as the scratch of paper blown down a sidewalk. It hung on the air a minute and then vanished, and Stefan found himself holding a pile of bones. â€Å"And finally it ends up like that, in over two hundred separate, easy-to-assemble pieces. Comes with its own handy-dandy carrying case†¦Ã¢â‚¬  On the far side of the circle of light there was a creaking sound. The white coffin there was opening by itself, the lid lifting. â€Å"Why don't you do the honors, Salvatore? Go put Elena where she belongs.† Stefan had dropped to his knees, shaking, looking at the slender white bones in his hands. It was all an illusion-Klaus was merely controlling Bonnie's trance and showing Stefan what he wanted Stefan to see. He hadn't really hurt Elena, but the hot, protective fury inside Stefan wouldn't recognize that. Carefully, Stefan laid the fragile bones on the ground and touched them once, gently. Then he looked up at Klaus, lips curled with contempt. â€Å"That is not Elena,† he said. â€Å"Of course it is. I'd recognize her anywhere.† Klaus spread his hands and declaimed, † ‘I knew a woman, lovely in her bones†¦' â€Å" â€Å"No.† Sweat was beading on Stefan's forehead. He shut out Klaus's voice and concentrated, fists clenched, muscles cracking with effort. It was like pushing a boulder uphill, fighting Klaus's influence. But where they lay, the delicate bones began trembling, and a faint golden light shone around them. â€Å"‘A rag and a bone and a hank of hair†¦ the fool he called them his lady fair†¦ ‘ â€Å" The light was shimmering, dancing, linking the bones together. Warm and golden it folded about them, clothing them as they rose in the air. What stood there now was a featureless form of soft radiance. Sweat ran into Stefan's eyes and he felt as if his lungs would burst. † ‘Clay lies still, but blood's a rover†¦' â€Å" † ‘And the crack in the teacup opens a lane to the land of the dead . . .' â€Å" â€Å"No.† Dizziness swept over Stefan as he felt the last surge of Power sigh out of him. A breath lifted the figure's breast, and eyes blue as lapis lazuli opened. Elena smiled, and he felt the blaze of her love arc to meet him. â€Å"Stefan.† Her head was high, proud as any queen's. Stefan turned to Klaus, who had stopped speaking and was glaring mutely. â€Å"This,† Stefan said distinctly, â€Å"is Elena. Not whatever empty shell she's left behind in the ground. This is Elena, and nothing you do can ever touch her.† He held out his hand, and Elena took it and stepped to him. When they touched, he felt a jolt, and then felt her Powers flowing into him, sustaining him. They stood together, side by side, facing the blond man. Stefan had never felt as fiercely victorious in his life, or as strong. Klaus stared at them for perhaps twenty seconds and then went berserk. His face twisted in loathing. Stefan could feel waves of malignant Power battering against him and Elena, and he used all his strength to resist it. The maelstrom of dark fury was trying to tear them apart, howling through the room, destroying everything in its path. Candles snuffed out and flew into the air as if caught in a tornado. The dream was breaking up around them, shattering. Stefan clung to Elena's other hand. The wind blew her hair, whipping it around her face. â€Å"Stefan!† She was shouting, trying to make herself heard. Then he heard her voice in his mind. â€Å"Stefan, listen to me! There is one thing you can do to stop him. You need a victim, Stefan-find one of his victims. Only a victim will know-â€Å" The noise level was unbearable, as if the very fabric of space and time was tearing. Stefan felt Elena's hands ripped from his. With a cry of desperation, he reached out for her again, but he could feel nothing. He was already drained by the effort of fighting Klaus, and he couldn't hold on to consciousness. The darkness took him spinning down with it. Bonnie had seen everything. It was strange, but once she stepped aside to let Stefan go to Elena, she seemed to lose physical presence in the dream. It was as if she were no longer a player but the stage the action was being played upon. She could watch, but she couldn't do anything else. In the end, she'd been afraid. She wasn't strong enough to hold the dream together, and the whole thing finally exploded, throwing her out of the trance, back into Stefan's room. â€Å"Stefan? Are you okay?† He looked wildly around the room as if trying to find something. â€Å"Elena!† he said, and then he stopped, memory clearly returning. His face twisted. For one dreadful instant Bonnie thought he was going to cry, but he only shut his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. â€Å"Stefan?† â€Å"I lost her. I couldn't hold on.† â€Å"I know.† Bonnie watched him a moment, then, gathering her courage, knelt in front of him, touching his shoulders. â€Å"I'm sorry.† His head lifted abruptly, his green eyes dry but so dilated they looked black. His nostrils were flared, his lips drawn back from his teeth. â€Å"Klaus!† He spat the name as if it were a curse. â€Å"Did you see him?† â€Å"Yes,† Bonnie said, pulling back. She gulped, her stomach churning. â€Å"He's crazy, isn't he, Stefan?† â€Å"Yes.† Stefan got up. â€Å"And he must be stopped.† â€Å"But how?† Since seeing Klaus, Bonnie was more frightened than ever, more frightened and less confident. â€Å"What could stop him, Stefan? I've never felt anything like that Power.† â€Å"But didn't you-?† Stefan turned to her quickly. â€Å"Bonnie, didn't you hear what Elena said at the end?† â€Å"No. What do you mean? I couldn't hear anything; there was a slight hurricane going on at the time.† â€Å"Bonnie†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Stefan's eyes went distant with speculation and he spoke as if to himself. â€Å"That means that he probably didn't hear it either. So he doesn't know, and he won't try to stop us.† â€Å"From what? Stefan, what are you talking about?† â€Å"From finding a victim. Listen, Bonnie, Elena told me that if we can find a surviving victim of Klaus's, we can find a way to stop him.† Bonnie was in completely over her head. â€Å"But†¦ why?† â€Å"Because vampires and their donors-their prey-share minds briefly while the blood is being exchanged. Sometimes the donor can learn things about the vampire that way. Not always, but occasionally. That's what must have happened, and Elena knows it.† She expected Stefan to be deflated, but he wasn't. â€Å"A vampire,† he said simply. â€Å"A human Klaus made into a vampire would qualify as a victim. As long as they've exchanged blood, they've touched minds.† â€Å"Oh. Oh. So†¦ if we can find a vampire he's made†¦ but where?† â€Å"Maybe in Europe.† Stefan began to pace around the room, his eyes narrowed. â€Å"Klaus has a long history, and some of his vampires are bound to be there. I may have to go and look for one.† Bonnie was utterly dismayed. â€Å"But Stefan, you can't leave us. You can't!† Stefan stopped where he was, across the room, and stood very still. Then at last, he turned to face her. â€Å"I don't want to,† he said quietly. â€Å"And we'll try to think of another solution first-maybe we can get hold of Tyler again. I'll wait a week, until next Saturday. But I may have to leave, Bonnie. You know that as well as I do.† There was a long, long silence between them. Bonnie fought the heat in her eyes, determined to be grown up and mature. She wasn't a baby and she would prove that now, once and for all. She caught Stefan's gaze and slowly nodded.

Mongol Ger

Mongol ger With a history of over a thousand years, this portative tabernacle made of wood meshed together with leather thongs and covered with felt is the home of the Mongolian nomads. Easy to build and dismantle, the ger, its furnishings, and the stove inside can be carried by just three camels, or wagons pulled by oxes. The average ger is small but spacious enough to provide enough living space for a family, is wind resistant, and has good ventilation. Gers are constructed of a latticed wood structure covered with layers of felt and canvas (ger's coverings). A lattice (section of ger lattice wall) frame of narrow birch and willow laths is held together by leather strips. The sections are about 2 meters long and are bound together to form a large circular structure. This collapsible lattice is called khana. The average ger uses four to eight khana, with five being the most popular size. The door-frame is a separate unit, as is the ceiling formed from an umbrella-like frame-work of slender poles called uni (caber, poles or a ger which make up roof), which are meshed to the khana on one end and slotted into the toono smoke hole (the opening and frame on top of a ger), a circular frame, at the top. Traditionally, the door was a felt flap attached to the door-frame, but most nomads now use a carved or painted wooden door. In the center of the toono is a small hole which allows smoke to escape and fresh air and light to enter. Each ger is heated by a small metal stove (tripod, trivet fireplace) fueled with dried cow dung (dry droppings of cattle for fuel) or wood. The entrance of the ger always faces southwards. Once the wooden framework khana is meshed together, it is covered with layers of felt and canvas. The felt helps the ger retain heat and the canvas over it sheds rain. Busluur ropes (rope which encircles the ger) made of hair (from five kinds of livestock) and wool hold the thick layer of felt in place. During the summer, one layer of felt is used, but during the winter, two or three layers are needful. Travelers to Mongolia will have the opportunity to sleep in traditional gers while staying with nomadic families or at ger camps. The Mongolian ger has customs attached to it that are unique do's and don'ts inside a ger.

Regarding History vs. When Death Comes

Regarding history/ when death comes Luisa A. Igloria's, â€Å"Regarding History† is a very intriguing poem. Initially it seems to be a very straight forward poem, she beings by speaking of two trees that she can see from her window that lean into the wind, and goes on to describe a certain meat that she is cooking. At first glance this poem seemed to just be a description of an afternoon, but as the poem progresses it gets more complicated, which lead me to start to question if her earliest descriptions where literal, or a representation of something else entirely.A key turning point in my interpretation of this poem is when she said: â€Å"Tell me what I'll find, in this early period at the beginning of a century. Tell me what I'll find stumbling into a boat and pushing off into the year's last dark hours. † It is obvious that she is searching for something, but what? After I reread the poem I began seeing more of a love aspect to it when I noticed her speaking of a pe rson, who she wants to take the person's face in her hands and â€Å"Grow sweet from what it tells†.This once more brings me back to the begging of the poem, and my initial question, what do the trees represent? I came to the conclusion that the two trees represented her and this person that she adores, and that she is not necessarily observing them, but rather the trees make her think of the relationship with this person she adores and herself, which by the description of the how the trees are: â€Å"leaning now into the wind in a stance that we'd call involuntary-† shows to me that there is a struggle of sorts that they are facing together. Another aspect of the poem that peaked my interest was the title.After reading it and rereading it there seemed to be no logical conclusion to be made of the title until I had focused on the ending when she talks about â€Å"the beginning of a century†. It made me think that she was about to embrace something new, and this struggle that is present may have been a repeat of the past, therefore bringing about the entire poems purpose, her questioning the future while regarding the past, or as the poem states, history. â€Å"When Death Comes†, This poem by Mary Oliver was simple, but the way she used imagery and depicted her thoughts upon death was brilliant and extravagant.When I say simple, I meant that there seemed to be no hidden meaning of what the poem was really about. After reading over the material more than a few times is was clear that death meant death, and her position on it was firmly established. At the beginning of the poem she starts off by describing death, how it is vicious, swift, unbiased and unforgiving. â€Å"When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps his purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox; when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades†¦ Then she begins to question about what death will be like when it is her time. Her reflection of death and its characteristics provokes thoughts on how she values all life and her personal relationships. She describes her relationships a brother and sisterhood, stating that she is very close to those she loves and highly values their relationship. She describes all life as a flower, but as common as a field daisy, but none the less beautiful, and any life that dares venture towards and endure life a body of courage, like a lion, and she ends the poem describing how she wants to exit this world.She wishes to die never having stopped being amazed by creation and never having stopped exploring new things and ideas, She wishes to have no questions or doubts. She wants to have experienced the world, not only have had visited it. Her take on the ideas and life and death themselves are very respectable, and something that I believe should be modeled, I believe that they are setup for well being, satisfac tion, and a full life. In this poem, she had many literay devices.To me, the most interesting one is on stanzas three and four: † when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps his purse shut†¦ † Its obvious that when you die you lose all of your possesions, but in ancient Greece, the culture believed that when you died you had to pay a toll to Charon, a demi-god whose only purpose is to ferry people in to the after life. These coins were mostly gold or other precious metals and were usually owned by the person who died and placed on the eyes as their final payment to the Charon, which is represented by the adjective she uses, â€Å"Bright†.

Criminalistics Week 11 Ind Homework Essay

This method is helpful because the searcher is moving from an area light with evidence to an area where more evidence is most likely to be found. Because the searcher may not be able to complete a perfect spiral evidence could be missed. Wheel/ray search-employs several people moving from the boundary straight toward the center of the scene or from the center straight to the boundary. This is not preferred because areas between the rays are not searched. Quadrant/zone search-involves dividing the scene into zones or quadrants and team members are assigned to each section. This method is best suited for scenes that cover a large area. 2. What is the difference between a primary and a secondary scene? A primary scene is one at which the original incident occurred. The secondary scene is a location that became part of the crime scene by activities after the initial incident, such as using a car to transport a body. 3. List three methods for crime scene recording. Notes, photography, and sketches. Notes-the notes should start by identifying the person who contacted the investigator, the time of the contact, and all preliminary information enclosed, including the case number. Photography-crime scene photographs can show the layout of the scene, the position of evidence to be collected, and the relation of objects at the scene to one another. Photography is also important for documenting biological evidence in its original condition because this kind of evidence is altered during testing. Sketching-a sketch shows the layout of an indoor or outdoor crime scene and the relationship in space of all the items and features significant to the investigation. It is important to illustrate the location of collected evidence. Sketching clarifies objects and features already described in notes or shown in photographs. 4. What are aperture and f-number? How does the aperture relate to the f-number and how does this affect the amount of light to which the film exposed? The aperture is the size of the diaphragm opening through which light enters the camera. The f-number is the diameter of the lens opening for light to pass through the camera. One adjusts the aperture by setting the f-number, which is equal to the focal length divided by the aperture. Thus, the aperture and the f-number are inversely related. The lower the f-number setting, the wider the aperture and the more light it allows in. 5. What is the depth of field? How does a camera’s the f-number relate to a depth of field of the photographs it produces? The depth of field is the range of in the foreground and background of a photographic subject that are also relatively in focus. Landscape mode on a digital camera automatically selects higher f-stops to improve the depth of field when the background and foreground are important. The portrait mode selects lower f-stops to decrease the depth of field and make the subject stand out clearly against a blurred background. 6. What should medium-range photographs taken at the crime scene show? What should appear in every medium-range photographs and why? Medium-range photographs should show the layout of smaller significant areas of the crime scene. The items that should appear in every medium-range photograph are evidence markers and they are to show the spatial relationship between and among pieces of evidence in greater detail than the overview photographs.

Comparison of ‘The Speckled Band’ and ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ Essay

In this essay I will be comparing the two stories ‘The Speckled Band’ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ by Roald Dahl. ‘The Speckled Band’ was written in 1892.This was in The Victorian Period when people had very little faith in the Police and Conan Doyle needed to create a Detective who always got everything right so that the public started to believe the Police could actually get it right. It was first published in a magazine called â€Å"The Strand† in weekly episodes so to a certain extent he needed to keep his readers interested as well which is why the plot is so complicated. The plot is about a woman called Helen Stoner who is going to get married, but someone or something murders her sister who also was supposed to get married. Helen Stoner goes to see Sherlock Holmes to see if he can help solve the crime. The plot is full of twists and red herrings that is up to the reader to try and solve as they go along but as always Sherlock Holmes works out the significance of everything and solves the crime. ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ was written in 1954by Roald Dahl. This story was also published in a magazine called â€Å"Harpers† but was written to be read in one go so it does not have the complicated layout of Conan Doyles story. Instead the reader knows exactly what is going on form the start of the story and the ending is shocking and designed to entertain and horrify. It was written by Dahl to show how women at the time were a lot more powerful than the men gave them credit for and should be respected more than being at home , pregnant. The plot is about a modern couple that seem to be falling out. Mary Maloney is the perfect 1950’s housewife who makes dinner and cleans, but one day when her husband (Patrick Maloney) comes home from work they have an argument. Mary loses her temper with Patrick and hits him over the head with a leg of lamb and accidentally kills him. In a panic she phones the police and puts the leg of lamb in the oven to cook for dinner. When the police arrive she persuades them to eat the lamb because it would be a waste of food. In the end the police eat the evidence and Mary didn’t get caught. Dahl uses comic irony at the end to engage the reader as Mary sits there laughing about what she has done; you don’t imagine her to do this as a middle class housewife. The times that these stories are set in are both very different. Like travel, in ‘The Speckled Band’. They travel by horse and cart but in ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ trey use car or foot just like in the modern day. For communication the people in 1892 would have to write or go and see the person they wanted to talk to but in 1954 they would have used the telephone. Also in 1892 they did not have much electricity so they used candles instead of light, whereas in 1954 they had lots of electricity. In 1892 the women would have worn veils and long skirts but in 1954 they would have they would have worn jeans, t-shirt etc. in 1892 rich families would lived in large houses with servants but in the modern day most families are middle classed and do not have the money for servants etc. When there was an enquiry in 1892 the detectives would have had to use their own knowledge to solve crimes but in 1954 they would use fingerprints, evidence etc to solve the crimes. The language used in ‘The Speckled Band’ was old fashioned and very formal like when Sherlock Holmes says â€Å"Very sorry to knock you up Watson, † said he, â€Å"but it’s the common lot this morning.† He also says things like â€Å"Mrs Hudson has been knocked up, she reported upon me, and I on you.† This isn’t the kind of language we would use in the modern day and proves that it is set in 1892. However in ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ there was a lot of slang and it was not as formal. Like when Mary says â€Å"Hullo darling.† And † Hullo Sam† to the grocer. However the way she speaks to Sam the grocer proves it was set in the 1950’s and not in any other time because we would not know the person in the corner shops first name today but it was common in the 1950’s to be friendly with them. In ‘The Speckled Band’ Sherlock Holmes is the main character. He is a famous detective and solves difficult cases. Conan Doyle invented him because people in the Victorian times were fed with the fact that the police could not solve any crimes and he wanted a character that always got everything right. However in ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ there were police who are good at solving cases but wouldn’t be able to solve them without any evidence and they are very arrogant and treat Mary as a silly woman when in fact she is the person who has tricked them and been the murderer. Dahl does this to shock his readers and make it even more dramatic which Conan Doyle would not want to do because they needed to trust their detective! In ‘The Speckled Band’ the killer was a snake that had been hypnotised by Helen Stoner’s stepfather, but all the way through the story he is a suspect and he acts suspiciously like when Helen goes to visit Sherlock Holmes to tell him what has been going on, shortly after she leaves her stepfather came in asking if she has been here. It seemed like he had something to hide, but in the end it had nothing to do with him. In ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ Mary seems like a nice, gentle woman who feels that she has to help out. Like when she says, â€Å"Darling, shall I get your slippers?† but after the police eat the evidence she laughs so I think he whole issue hade made her go a bit insane. At the beginning of the story you didn’t expect it from her because she just seems like a normal, average wife like when it said about ‘She took his coat and hung it in the closet.’ and when it said ‘She was sat back again in her chair with the sewing.’ The scene seems too realistic for something bad to happen. In ‘The Speckled Band’ the victim was Helen Stoner’s sister because there was nothing anyone could do to save her; this made the readers feel very sorry for her. The next victim was Helen Stoner and because nobody knew what killed her sister it seemed that she needed protection. I would expect someone like her to be the next victim because she is a woman who has done nothing wrong and is innocent. I don’t think her or her sister deserved to be the victims because they are both just happy and normal people. In ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ you don’t feel sorry for Patrick because he is being horrible to Mary and you feel automatically on her side from the beginning. I think he deserved to be upset but not killed because they are just having a falling out. ‘The Speckled Band’ is set in Stoke Moran, which is Helen’s stepfather house. Sherlock Holmes is investigating the house. I think it is a good setting for a murder to take place and because it’s a very big house which makes it creepier for the reader because you don’t know what is doing the killings. ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ is set in Mary Maloney’s house. I think the way the author has described it makes it sound very realistic, like when he says, â€Å"The room was warm and clean, the curtains drawn, the two table lamps alight.† This makes the room sound cosy and like it really exists. You can really picture the scenery. I also think it’s a good setting for a murder because you can imagine it happening there. I think I would expect it because so many crimes in real life have been taken place in houses. Out of the two stories I preferred ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ because it is easier to understand and keeps you interested all the way though with the description it uses. I disliked the other story because the speaking parts dragged on to long and I did really just want to get on and find out what happens.