Principles of Accounting Present Horizontal Analysis

Bush Administration and sanctions on policy of torture on detainees Research Paper

Bramble Administration and authorizes on strategy of torment on prisoners - Research Paper Example 7 6. Conclusion†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ 7. Works Cited†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦.†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ 8 Torture is a verifiable wrongdoing and can't be legitimized with any basis, regardless of how sensible it might sound. Torment is restricted by totally acculturated social orders and both the US and International laws hold it in severe detestation. As per the US just as International laws, those indicted for attack and torments are at risk to be rebuffed. The US code spreads out exacting principles on torment and every other demonstration that go under its domain, with clear requests on the disciplines and punishments that ought to be dispensed to its violators. Notwithstanding such guidelines, it is asserted that the US organization under the administration of George W. Shrubbery, enjoyed tormenting prisoners claimed for fear mongering and different wrongdoings. The whole world communicated shock over such US approaches, accusing them to be the explanation for the expanded revolt of fear mongering and the absence of help from partners, in any case, it is amazing to take note of that numerous others supported it as being legitimate and the need of great importance. The Bush Administration disproved every single such case, saying that no such arrangements on torment of prisoners were authorized, however the heaping rundown of confirmations against it talks in any case. This requires a proper request by the Obama Administration just as the US Justice Department into all the approaches endorsed under the Bush Administration. On the off chance that President Bush and the various strategy producers are sentenced for falling bac k on torment, they should be brought to book and ought to be punished with full avocation to the US reformatory code, bombing which would be the biggest disappointment of peace in our occasions. As indicated by the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the Third and Fourth Geneva Conventions, the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, torment is a culpable demonstration and the violators of these will undoubtedly be punished. Appropriately, the Bush Administration is deserving of law, as its mystery approaches on torment are not mystery any longer. Torments under the Bush organization According to Taylor1, the US government perceived all the global shows against torment. By the by, the Bush organization furtively authorized torment strategies for the cross examination of prisoners of its â€Å"War on terror† post September 11. It legitimized such goes about as b eing lawful and â€Å"morally permissible†, when they got known out in the open. The Bush organization authorized water boarding, constrained bareness, lack of sleep, temperature boundaries, stress position and delayed disengagement as sheltered, legitimate, moral, and compelling upgraded cross examination strategies which were recently viewed as torment and taboo by the United Nations Committee Against Torture1. Torment turned into a state strategy of the United States under Bush organization wherein detainees of War on Terror were tormented as an issue of arrangement and practice at Abu Ghraib jail by American soldiers just as increasingly experienced torturers (Masciulli, Molchanov and Knight 349). As per news reports, President Bush had approved the utilization of waterboarding2 and other harsh torments against hoodlums in its war on fear. Endless confirmations of torment are

What Phobia Is the Fear of Numbers

What Phobia Is the Fear of Numbers Phobias Types Print Arithmophobia or the Fear of Numbers By Lisa Fritscher Lisa Fritscher is a freelance writer and editor with a deep interest in phobias and other mental health topics. Learn about our editorial policy Lisa Fritscher Medically reviewed by Medically reviewed by Steven Gans, MD on June 19, 2015 Steven Gans, MD is board-certified in psychiatry and is an active supervisor, teacher, and mentor at Massachusetts General Hospital. Learn about our Medical Review Board Steven Gans, MD Updated on September 22, 2019 Katrina Charmatz/Illustration Works/Getty Images More in Phobias Types Causes Symptoms and Diagnosis Treatment The fear of numbers is called  arithmophobia. This fear is somewhat unusual in that it encompasses a wide variety of specific phobias, including  a generalized fear of all numbers and fear of specific numbers. It is also sometimes called numerophobia. It is classified as an anxiety disorder. Generalized Arithmophobia A generalized fear of numbers, that is to say, a fear of all numbers can seriously affect the ability of a person to do math. This limits both educational and professional opportunities. The fear of particularly large numbers is usually much less limiting, allowing the person to perform basic computations. Fear of Specific Numbers Some people with arithmophobia may fear specific numbers. In cases like these, arithmophobia is usually rooted in superstition or religious phobias. The best-known example is a fear of the number 13, which is also called triskaidekaphobia.  This fear has been linked to early Christians, and the number 13 appears in a lot of Biblical traditions. (There were 13 people at the Last Supper, for example, and Judas is said to be the 13th person to join the table.) But the number 13 is also an unlucky number in other cultures. Loki, the Norse god of mischief, is also said to be the 13th god of the pantheon. Today,  many hotels omit the 13th floor and room 13, and the fear of Friday the 13th  (which is called paraskevidekatriaphobia)  combines the fear of Friday as an unlucky day with the fear of the number 13. The number  666  is another number thats widely feared in Western cultures. It is said to be the  number of the beast as translated into English versions of the Book of Revelation verse 18. For example, former President Ronald Reagan had the street number of his home in Bel-Air, Los Angeles, changed from 666 to 668. In Asia, 4 is considered an especially unlucky number in countries like China, Vietnam, and Japan because it is something of a homophone for the word death in the local languages. Just like in the west, hotels are prone to leaving the number 4 out of their floors and room numbers, and corporations have even followed suit:  the serial numbers of Canon cameras dont include the number 4, and Samsung phones no longer use model codes with 4 either. Consequences These kinds of arithmophobia have real-world consequences, even if the fear is based on what might seem like harmless suspicion. A 2001 study in the British Medical Journal, for example, found that  Asian Americans in California were 27 percent more likely to die of a heart attack on the fourth day of the month. It was hypothesized that the psychological stress of an unlucky day can tip the superstitious over the brink. For this and many more reasons, if you find yourself that fear of numbers in general or specific numbers is creating problems in your life, its a good idea to seek advice from a trained professional in mental health. Your problem may be addressed with talk therapy, anti-anxiety medications, or a combination.

The Use of Symbolism to Foreshadow the Future in Kate...

The Use of Symbolism to Foreshadow the Future in Kate Chopins The Story of an Hour and Toni Cade Bambaras The Lesson Often authors use signs to foreshadow events that will happen in the future in their stories. For example an author might write As he was walking down the dark eerie path dark skies began to form . Here the writer uses a usually negative sign to foreshadow a negative future. This is the most common way for authors to foreshadow in a story, but it isnt the only way. In some instances authors use symbols to foreshadow the future of a character. Like foreshadowing with signs, symbols can also be used to foreshadow both positive and negative futures. In the two short stories The story of an Hour by Kate Chopin†¦show more content†¦The open square gives the reader a sense that since the death of the womans husband she now has many open possibilities or a variety of options with her life. When she writes about new spring life its as if the woman was dull and lifeless as the winter is, but when spring comes things start to grow and become more lively just as she is now that she isnt held down by her husband. Chopin also goes on to write, The delicious breath of rain was in the air... There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window, (Chopin 157). In many instances rain symbolizes dreary events and negative vibes, and here the author writes of the taste of rain in the air as if the rain has passed and the skies have cleared. This gives the reader the sense that the woman has persevered through the storm of her marriage with the death of her husband. Chopin uses those symbols to foreshadow a positive future for the woman in her story. In a similar fashion, but very different story Tony Cade Bambara uses symbolism to foreshadow the future of a young girl named Sylvia. Bambaras story begins in the projects of a poor New York neighborhood wh ere a group of very young children are being taken downtown Manhattan to a toy store called F.A.O. Schwarz. The

A Peaceful Woman Explains Why she Carries a Gun - 900 Words

A Peaceful Woman Explains Why she Carries a Gun Linda M. Hasselstrom wrote the article â€Å"A Peaceful Woman Explains Why she Carries a Gun,† she has a credible argument for carrying a gun because she has experienced many dangerous sexual assaults. Hasselstrom is a journalist who has gun ownership. The audience of this article is the women who want to protect themselves. In the article, Hasselstrom describes many sexual assaults, and she shows that women are always the victims. After that, Hasselstrom explains how she can protect herself by learning kung fu and carrying a gun. The purpose of this article is to explain why the author carries a gun. In the article, Hasselstrom lists several sexual assaults that have made her decide to†¦show more content†¦Hasselstrom swerved closed to them and used the horn. Finally, the four men drive away. This incident makes Hasselstrom realize that she is vulnerable. Furthermore, Hasselstrom feels more vulnerable. One night, Hassel strom goes back home from class, and she finds a tire mark in her yard, garbage in her driveway, a larger gas tank empty, and a light shone in her house. Hasselstrom is too afraid to go into her house. This event reminds Hasselstrom of her vulnerability. After many harrassments that Hasselstrom has suffered, Hasselstrom goes to learn self-defense, and she learns kung fu. However, one day, Hasselstrom reads an article that says well-trained material act women still get raped and beat. This article has made Hasselstrom make an important decision, so she is going to carry a gun that makes her feel safer. Personally, I made an important decision too. Two years ago, I was in high school. One day, I attended a presentation that was about how to get into colleges. I attended this presentation because I wanted to get into a good college. From this presentation, I learned that I should have a good GPA, high test scores, and extracurricular activities. 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The Last Dance Chapter Nine Free Essays

string(178) " clause depriving her of a lousy twenty-five grand when there were hundreds of thousands to be coined in a hit musical\? They already knew where they could find Cynthia Keating\." Chapter Nine The detectives were waiting in the lobby of Fitness Plus when Connie Lindstrom walked out early Thursday morning, her mink coat flapping open over black tights and Nike running shoes as she sailed past to start her working day. Her eyes opened in surprise when she saw Carella and Brown sitting on the bench. She broke step, stopped, looked at them, shook her head, and said, â€Å"What now?† â€Å"Sorry to bother you again,† Carella said. We will write a custom essay sample on The Last Dance Chapter Nine or any similar topic only for you Order Now â€Å"I’ll bet.† â€Å"Ever see this?† he asked, and handed her a copy of the letter Shanahan had passed on to him late yesterday afternoon. Connie took it, began reading it, recognized it at once, and handed it back to him. â€Å"Yes,† she said. â€Å"So?,† and hurried past them to the exit door. They came down the steps and into the street, Connie leading, glancing at her watch, walking quickly to the curb, looking up the avenue for a taxi. It was eight-thirty in the morning on a very cold day, the sky bright and cloudless overhead, the streets heavy with traffic. At this hour, it was almost impossible to catch a free cab, but the buses were packed as well, and getting anywhere was a slow and tedious process. Connie kept waving her hand at approaching taxis, shaking her head as each occupied one flashed by. â€Å"I have to be downtown in ten minutes,† she said. â€Å"Whatever this is, I’m afraid it’ll have to . . .† â€Å"Woman who wrote that letter was murdered,† Carella said. â€Å"Jesus, what is this?† Connie said. â€Å"The Scottish Play?† â€Å"What’s the Scottish Play?† Brown asked. â€Å"We have to talk to you,† Carella said. â€Å"If you want a lift downtown, we’ll be happy to take you.† â€Å"In what?† she said. â€Å"A police car?† â€Å"Nice Dodge sedan.† â€Å"Shotgun on the back seat?† â€Å"In the trunk,† Brown said. â€Å"Why not?† Connie said, and they began walking toward where Carella had parked the car, around the corner. She was in good shape; they had to step fast to keep up with her. Carella unlocked the door on the driver’s side, clicked open all the other doors, and then threw up the visor with the pink police notice on it. Connie sat beside him on the front seat. Brown climbed into the back. â€Å"Where to?† Carella asked. â€Å"Octagon,† she said. â€Å"You’ve been there.† â€Å"More auditions?† â€Å"Endless process,† she said. â€Å"I don’t know this woman, you realize. If you’re suggesting her murder . . .† â€Å"When did you get her letter, Miss Lindstrom?† â€Å"Last week sometime.† â€Å"Before the Meet ‘N’ Greet?† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"How’d you handle it?† â€Å"Dadier’s Nose,† she said, and shrugged. â€Å"What’s that?† â€Å"Too long a story. Too long a nose, in fact. Suffice it to say that plagiarism victims surface whenever anything smells of success. I turned the letter over to my lawyer.† â€Å"Did he contact her?† â€Å"She. I have no idea.† â€Å"You didn’t ask?† â€Å"Why should I care? We’re talking about a play written in 1922!† â€Å"We’re also talking about a play that seems to inspire murder.† The car went silent. Connie turned to him, her face sharp in profile. â€Å"You don’t know that for sure,† she said. â€Å"Know what?† â€Å"That the two murders are in any way connected. I suppose you’d both take a fit if I smoked.† â€Å"Go right ahead,† Carella said, surprising Brown. She fished into her bag, came up with a single cigarette and a lighter. She flicked the lighter into flame, held it to the end of the cigarette. She breathed out a cloud of smoke, sighed in satisfaction. On the back seat, Brown opened a window. â€Å"I know what it looks like,† she said. â€Å"Hale refuses to sell us the rights, so he gets killed. Woman writes a letter that could seem threatening to the show, and she gets killed. Somebody wanted both of them dead because the show must go on† she said, raising her voice dramatically. â€Å"Well, I have news for you. The show doesn’t always have to go on. If it gets too difficult or too complicated, it simply does not go on, and that’s a fact.† â€Å"But the show is going on,† Brown said. â€Å"And that’s a fact, too.† â€Å"Yes. But if you think any of the professionals involved in this project would kill to insure a production . . .† She shook her head. â€Å"No,† she said. â€Å"I’m sorry.† â€Å"How about the amateurs?† Carella asked. Sometimes it was better to deal with professionals. A professional knew what he was doing, and if he broke the rules it was only because he understood them so well. The amateur witnessed a murder or two on television, concluded he didn’t have to know the rules, he could just jump in cold and do a little murder of his own. The amateur believed that even if he didn’t know what he was doing, he could get away with it. The professional believed he had best know what he was doing or he’d get caught. In fact, the professional knew without question that if he didn’t get better and better each time out, eventually they’d nail him. The irony was that there were more amateurs than professionals running around loose out there, each and every one of them thriving. Go figure. The way Carella and Brown figured it, there were four amateurs involved in the musical production of Jenny’s Room, and three of them were still here in this busy little city. The fourth was somewhere in Tel Aviv, driving his taxi through crowded streets and hoping a bus bomb wouldn’t explode in his path. There was nothing that said an Israeli cab driver couldn’t have hired a Jamaican from Houston to hang an old man in his closet and later break an old lady’s neck, but that sounded like the kind of stuff a neophyte might devise. Distance also would have disqualified Felicia Carr from Los Angeles and Gerald Palmer from London had they not both been here in the city when Martha Coleridge had her neck snapped. Cynthia Keating always loomed first and foremost. Mousy little Cynthia, who’d hoisted her father off that bathroom door hook and lugged him over to the bed. Dear little Cynthia, who’d been worried about a suicide clause depriving her of a lousy twenty-five grand when there were hundreds of thousands to be coined in a hit musical? They already knew where they could find Cynthia Keating. They knew that Palmer was staying at The Piccadilly because he’d mentioned it at Connie Lindstrom’s party. From the ever helpful Norman Zimmer, they learned that Felicia Carr was staying with a girlfriend here in the city. Because both Felicia and Palmer were leaving for their respective homes this weekend and time was running out, they split the legwork into three teams. Whether a person was guilty or not, he or she always seemed surprised – and a little bit frightened – to find policemen standing on the doorstep. Felicia Carr opened the door to her girlfriend’s garden apartment in Majesta, saw two burly men standing there flashing badges, opened her big green eyes wide and asked what seemed to be the trouble, Officers? â€Å"We’re investigating a homicide,† Meyer said, because that often caused amateurs to wet their pants. â€Å"A double homicide, in fact,† Kling said genially. â€Å"May we come in, please?† â€Å"Well . . . sure,† Felicia said. They followed her into a spacious, sunny living room overlooking the Majesta Bridge not far in the distance. The furniture was still wearing summer slipcovers, the fabric all abloom with riotous red and yellow and purple flowers against a background of large green leaves. The summery decor, the sun glaring through the big windows made the day outside appear balmy. But the temperature was in the low twenties, and the forecasters had predicted more snow either late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Felicia told them she was just on her way out. . . â€Å"So much to see here,† she explained. . . . and hoped this wouldn’t take too long. â€Å"Though I’m sorry to hear someone got murdered,† she added. â€Å"Two people,† Kling reminded her. â€Å"Yes, I’m sorry.† â€Å"Miss Carr,† Meyer said, â€Å"can you tell us where you were this past Sunday night?† â€Å"I’m sorry?† â€Å"This past Sunday night,† he repeated. â€Å"That would’ve been the fifth,† Kling said helpfully. â€Å"Can you tell us where you were?† â€Å"Well . . . why?† â€Å"This is a homicide investigation,† Meyer said, and smiled encouragingly, â€Å"What’s that got to do with me?† â€Å"Most likely nothing,† Kling said, and nodded regretfully, as if to say / know you had nothing to do with these murders, and you know you had nothing to do with them, but we have to ask these questions, you see, that’s our job. But Felicia Carr was from the motion picture capital of the universe. She had seen every cop movie ever made, every cop television show ever broadcast, and she wasn’t about to get snowed by a song-and-dance team doing a dog-and-pony act. â€Å"What do you mean, most likelyT she snapped. â€Å"Why do you want to know where I was on Sunday night? Is that when someone got killed?† â€Å"Yes, Miss,† Kling said, trying to look even more sorrowful, but the lady still wasn’t buying. â€Å"What is this?† she said. â€Å"Los Angeles? The LAPD Gestapo?† â€Å"Do you know a woman named Martha Coleridge?† Meyer asked. Bad Cop suddenly on the scene. No more smile on his face. Bald head making him look like an executioner with an ax. Arms folded across his chest in unmistakably hostile body language. Blue eyes studying her coldly. Didn’t know he was dealing with Wonder Woman here, who’d sold three houses in Westwood only two weeks ago. â€Å"No, who’s Martha Coleridge?† she asked. â€Å"Is she the person who got killed last Sunday? Is that it?† â€Å"Yes, Miss Carr.† â€Å"Well, I don’t know her. I never heard of her. Is that enough? I have to leave now.† â€Å"Few more questions,† Kling said gently. â€Å"If you can spare a minute or so.† Good Cop with the flaxen hair and the hazel eyes and the cheeks still glowing from the cold outside, gently and persuasively trying to lead the lady down the garden path, not taking into account that she was from Tinseltown, USA, where if people ever walked anywhere they actually waited on street corners for lights to change. â€Å"I don’t think you’re allowed to do this,† she said. â€Å"Barge in here and . . .† â€Å"Miss Carr, have you ever been to Texas?† Meyer asked. â€Å"Yes, I have. Texasl What’s Texas got to †¦ ?† â€Å"Houston, Texas?† â€Å"No. Just Dallas.† â€Å"Do you know anyone named Andrew Hale?† â€Å"No. Yes. I never met him, but I know his name. Someone mentioned it.† â€Å"Who mentioned it?† â€Å"Cynthia, I think. He was her father, wasn’t he?† â€Å"How did she happen to mention it?† â€Å"Something about underlying rights? I really can’t remember.† â€Å"But you say you don’t know anyone named Martha Coleridge.† â€Å"That’s right.† â€Å"Didn’t you get a letter from her recently?† â€Å"What?† â€Å"A letter. From a woman named Martha Coleridge. Explaining that she’d written a play called . . .† â€Å"Oh yes. Her. I sent it back to Norman. Are you telling me she’s the same person who got killed?† â€Å"Norman Zimmer?† â€Å"Yes. Is she the one . . . ?† â€Å"Why’d you send it to him?† â€Å"I figured he’d know what to do about it. He’s the producer, isn’t he? What do I know about a crazy old lady who wrote a play in 1922?† â€Å"Excuse me,† Kling said politely. â€Å"But what do you mean you sent it back to him?† â€Å"Well, it was addressed to me care of his office. He had it messengered to me here. I mailed it back to him.† â€Å"Didn’t try to contact Miss Coleridge, did you?† Meyer asked. â€Å"No, why would I?† â€Å"Didn’t write to her, or try to phone her . . .† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Didn’t you find her letter at all threatening?† â€Å"Threatening?† â€Å"Yes. All that stuff about starting litigation . . .† â€Å"That has nothing to do with me.† â€Å"It doesn’t?† â€Å"That’s Norman’s problem. And Connie’s. They’re the ones producing the show.† â€Å"But if the show got tangled up in litigation . . .† â€Å"That’s not my problem.† â€Å"It might not get produced,† Kling said reasonably. â€Å"So what?† â€Å"Come on, Miss Carr,† Meyer said sharply. â€Å"There’s lots of money involved here.† â€Å"I’ve got a good job in L.A.,† Felicia said. â€Å"It’ll be nice if Jenny’s Room happens. But if not, not. Life goes on.† Not if you’re Martha Coleridge, Meyer thought. â€Å"So can you tell us where you were Sunday night?† he asked. â€Å"I went to a movie with my girlfriend,† Felicia said, sighing. â€Å"The woman whose apartment this is. Shirley Lasser.† â€Å"What’d you see?† Kling asked casually. â€Å"The new Travolta film.† â€Å"Any good?† â€Å"The movie was lousy,† Felicia said. â€Å"But I like him.† â€Å"He’s usually very good,† Kling said. â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"Do you find him handsome?† â€Å"Extremely so.† â€Å"What time did the show go on?† Meyer asked, getting back in character. â€Å"Eight o’clock.† â€Å"What time did you get home?† â€Å"Around eleven.† â€Å"Girlfriend with you all that time?† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"Where can we reach her?† â€Å"She’s at work right now.† â€Å"Where’s that?† â€Å"You guys kill me,† Felicia said. The sky was beginning to cloud over as they headed uptown. Decked out for Christmas as she was, the city petulantly demanded snow. Store windows were decorated with fake snow, and there were fake Salvation Army Santas shaking beUs in front of fake chimneys on every other street corner. But this was already the ninth of December and Christmas Day was fast approaching. What the city needed now was a real Santa soaring over the rooftops, real snow falling gently from the sky above. What the city needed was a sign. â€Å"I think she was telling the truth,† Kling said. â€Å"I don’t,† Meyer said. â€Å"Where was she lying?† â€Å"She gets a letter threatening legal action, and she forgets the woman’s name?† â€Å"Well . . .† â€Å"Says she never heard of her, quote, unquote. Then all at once, comes the dawn! Oh yes, now 1 recall,† he said, doing a pretty fair imitation. â€Å"Martha Coleridge! She’s the one who wrote a letter that can only deprive me of early retirement.† He snapped the niobile phone from its cradle, held it out to Kling. â€Å"Call this Shirley Lasser,† he said, â€Å"tell her we’re on the way. Six to five her pal’s already been on the pipe, telling her they saw a Travolta movie together last Sunday night.† Kling began dialing. â€Å"I wonder which one it was,† he said. Knowing that Jamaicans slept ten, twelve to a room, Fat Ollie Weeks did not consider it beyond the realm of possibility that a Jamaican visitor from Houston, Texas, might have crashed with friends or relatives now residing in this fair city, ah yes. Further knowing that the Jamaican in question had picked up Althea Cleary in a diner in the Eight-Eight, he took a run at the precinct’s own Jamaican enclave, The Forbes Houses on Noonan and Crowe – and came up empty. Undaunted, but unwilling to do a door-to-door canvass of the city’s six other Jamaican neighborhoods, he headed for the largest of them, downtown in the Three-Two Precinct. Here in the old city, narrow, twisting little streets with Florida-sounding names like Lime, Hibiscus, Pelican, Manatee, and Heron ran into similarly cramped little lanes and alleys called Goedkoop, Keulen, Sprenkels, and Visser, named by the Dutch when the city was new and masted sailing ships lay in the harbor. Them days was gone forever, Gertie. Running eastward from the Straits of Napoli and Chinatown, Visser Street swerved to the north into what used to be an area of warehouses bordering the River Harb. Too far uptown to be considered Lower Platform, not far enough downtown to be a part of trendy Hopscotch, the newly erected projects here were officially called The Mapes Houses, after James Joseph Mapes, a revered former Governor of the state. All of the city’s projects were rated by the police department on a one-to-five scale ranging from â€Å"uncertain† to â€Å"chancy† to â€Å"risky† to â€Å"unsafe† to downright â€Å"hazardous.† The Mapes Houses were classified a middling three on the Safety Factor scale, although foot patrolmen assigned to the area considered this a conservative ranking. The cops of the Three-Two dubbed the project â€Å"Rockfort,† after a seventeenth-century moated fortress on the easternmost limits of Kingston, but perhaps that was only because eighty percent of the residents here were Jamaican. On Fat Ollie Weeks’s scale of personal safety, Rockfort ranked a dismal eight, which in his lexicon meant shitty, mon. He went in there alone early that Thursday afternoon, but only because it was broad daylight a few weeks before Christmas. Otherwise, he’d have requested backup and a SWAT team. Abandoning his usual swagger, which he felt might be a liability here among the Jamaican brethren, ah yes, his manner became almost obsequious as he went from door to door asking after a man some six foot, two or three inches tall, with a fawn-colored complexion, deep brown eyes, wide shoulders, a narrow waist, a lovely grin, and a melodic Jamaican lilt to his voice. He did not mention the blue star tattooed on the suspect’s penis because many of the people he spoke to were women, and many of the men considered themselves Christians. He did not strike pay dirt until three that afternoon, by which time it was beginning to snow and the skies above were dark enough to cause him to consider going back uptown. Cynthia Keating did not seem surprised to find Carella and Brown on her doorstep yet another time. She didn’t even threaten calling her lawyer. She asked them to come in, told them they had ten minutes, and then sat opposite them, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. It had begun snowing, and the window behind her was alive with wind-driven flakes. Carella got directly to the point. â€Å"A woman named Martha Coleridge,† he said, â€Å"mailed some letters to Norman Zimmer’s office, asking that they be forwarded. One of them was addressed to you, as owner of the underlying rights to Jenny’s Room. With it was a photocopy of a play Miss Coleridge herself had written. Did you ever receive that play and the accompanying letter?† â€Å"Yes, I did.† Progress, Carella thought. â€Å"How’d you feel about it?† â€Å"Concerned.† â€Å"Why?† â€Å"Because it seemed to me there were similarities between her play and Jenny’s Room.† â€Å"What kind of similarities?† â€Å"Well, the premise, to begin with. An immigrant girl comes to America and falls in love with someone of another faith while at the same time she’s falling in love with the city itself – which she finally chooses over the man. That’s identical in both plays. And the conceit. We see her love affair with the city through the window of her room, which is really a window to her heart. That’s the same, too. Reading it was . . . well . . . alarming.† â€Å"So what’d you do?† â€Å"I called Todd. He . . .† â€Å"Todd Alexander?† â€Å"Yes. My lawyer. He advised me to forget about it.† â€Å"And is that what you did?† She hesitated for the briefest tick of time. Carella caught the hesitation, and so did Brown. Their eyes revealed nothing, but they had caught it. Her fleeting inner debate apparently led to a decision to tell the truth. â€Å"No, I did not forget about it,† she said. But the truth inevitably led to another question. â€Å"What did you do instead?† Brown asked. Again, the slight hesitation. â€Å"I went to see her,† Cynthia said. The detectives did not know why she was telling the truth – if indeed this was the truth. The woman they were here to inquire about was dead, and anything that had transpired between her and Cynthia Keating could neither be confirmed nor contradicted. But the path of evident truth was the one Cynthia seemed to have chosen, and they thanked God for small favors and plunged ahead regardless. â€Å"When was this?† Carella asked. â€Å"The day after I received the play. I called her, and we arranged to meet.† â€Å"And when was that?† â€Å"The Thursday before Connie’s party.† â€Å"Where’d this meeting take place?† Brown asked. â€Å"Her apartment. Downtown on Sinclair.† â€Å"What’d you talk about?† â€Å"Her letter. The play. I wanted to find out exactly what she had in mind.† â€Å"How do you mean?† â€Å"Her letter said she was looking for ‘appropriate compensation.’ I wanted to know what she considered appropriate.† â€Å"You went there expecting to deal, is that it?† â€Å"As I told you, I was concerned. Her play couldn’t have been a fake, she’d sent us a program with the name of the theater on it, the date the play opened, how could she have faked all that? And if she wasn’t faking, then her play was the model for Jenny’s Room. There was no question in my mind about that.† â€Å"So you went there to deal?† â€Å"To explore a deal.† â€Å"Even though your lawyer advised against it.† â€Å"Well, lawyers,† she said, and dismissed the entire legal profession with a wave of her hand. â€Å"What did she have in mind exactly?† Brown asked. â€Å"A cash settlement of one million dollars.† â€Å"She asked you for a million dollars?† â€Å"That was the total sum she wanted from all of us. The ten people she’d sent the letter to. A hundred thousand from each of us.† â€Å"What’d you tell her?† â€Å"I told her I couldn’t speak for the others, but that I’d give it some thought and get back to her. I had no intention of doing that. I thought her demand was absurd. Todd was right. I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place.† â€Å"Did she seem serious about that price?† â€Å"Non-negotiable, she told me. One million dollars.† â€Å"Did you talk to any of the others about this?† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"Who?† â€Å"Norman Zimmer and Connie Lindstrom. They’re our producers. I should have turned it over to them from the beginning.† â€Å"What’d they say?† â€Å"Forget it. Same as Todd.† â€Å"How about the others who received the letter? Did you talk to any of them?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"None of the creative team?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"The other rights holders?† â€Å"Felicia and Gerry? No.† â€Å"Didn’t mention it to them at the Meet ‘N’ Greet?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Even though you’d met with Miss Coleridge just a few days earlier?† â€Å"I didn’t see any need to.† â€Å"How come?† Brown asked. â€Å"I told you. I’d been advised to forget about it. So I forgot about it.† She shrugged airily. â€Å"Besides, it was a party. The hell with her.† â€Å"What’d you expect would happen?† â€Å"I had no idea. If she sued, she sued. But I wasn’t about to hand her a hundred thousand dollars I didn’t even have.† â€Å"Ever see her again after that Thursday?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Didn’t go back to talk to her again?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Didn’t call her?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Had no further contact with her, right?† â€Å"Right.† â€Å"Do you know she’s dead?† Cynthia was either stunned into silence or else was hesitating again, debating whether or not to tell the truth. â€Å"No,† she said at last. â€Å"I didn’t know that.† â€Å"It was in the papers,† Brown said. â€Å"I didn’t see it.† â€Å"On television, too,† he said. â€Å"So that’s why you’re here,† she said. â€Å"That’s why we’re here.† â€Å"You still think . . .† She shook her head, fell silent. â€Å"You’re wrong,† she said. Maybe they were. â€Å"The one with the scar, yes,† the woman said. It came out â€Å"Dee wan wid dee scah, yes.† â€Å"You know him?† Ollie said, astonished. He’d been pounding leather for close to two hours now. â€Å"I seed him here dee projec,† the woman said. â€Å"But I doan know him cept for dat.† The woman was frying bananas at the kitchen stove, tilting the frying pan from one side to the other to spread the butter. A pot of greens in garlic and oil was simmering on another burner. Something succulent was roasting in the oven, too. The woman was barefoot, wearing a loose-fitting smock with a floral design, a matching pink kerchief on her head. The kitchen was small and tidy, the cooking smells overpowering. Ollie was suddenly very hungry. â€Å"What’s his name, would you know?† â€Å"Never heerd his name,† the woman said. â€Å"Where’d you see him?† â€Å"Aroun dee projec, like I say.† â€Å"What are those?† he asked. â€Å"Fried bananas?† â€Å"Yes, mon, fried bananas, wot you tink?† â€Å"How do they taste?† â€Å"Mon?† â€Å"Them fried bananas.† â€Å"You lak to taste one?† â€Å"They sure look good.† â€Å"They be done soon,† she said. Ollie watched the butter bubbling around them in the pan. His mouth was watering. â€Å"Any idea where in the project?† he asked. â€Å"Playin dee saxophone,† she said. â€Å"You wann summa dis now?† She moved the pan to an unlighted burner, forked one of the bananas onto a dish and handed fork and dish to Ollie. He speared the banana, swallowed it almost whole. Hands on her hips, smiling in satisfaction, she watched him. â€Å"That’s really good,† he said. â€Å"Yah,† she said. â€Å"Still later, they be mo better. I serves em wid vanilla ice cream.† He was hoping she’d offer him another one, with or without ice cream, hot or cold, but she didn’t. He put the disk back on the counter, wiped the back of his hand across his lips, and said, â€Å"He’s a musician, huh?† â€Å"No, but he play dee saxophone,† the woman said, and laughed. â€Å"Where’d you hear him play?† â€Å"Dee rec room,† she said. Gerry Palmer was packing for London when they got to his hotel room at four that Thursday afternoon. â€Å"Not leaving till Sunday night,† he said, â€Å"but I like to be ready well in advance.† The room was on the tenth floor of The Piccadilly, far less fashionable than the hotels in the sidestreets off Jefferson Avenue, and not close enough to The Stem to be considered convenient to restaurants or shows. Carella had some dim recollection that the place used to be a riding academy in the not-too-distant past, before the new mayor started cracking down on hookers using hot-bed hotels for their swift transactions. The place still had a look of seedy weariness about it, the drapes and matching bedspread a trifle shabby, the arms on both easy chairs beginning to look a bit threadbare. Carella sat in one of those chairs, Brown in the other. Palmer stood on the far side of the bed, facing them, carrying clothes from the dresser and the closet to his open suitcase on the bed. A brown suit, a canary-colored shirt with a white collar, a fresh pair of Jockey shorts, brown socks, and a brown silk tie were laid out neatly on the bed. Palmer explained that he’d set them aside for when he went out to dinner and a play tonight. He named the play – which neither of the detectives had seen, or even heard of – and explained that Norman Zimmer had arranged for house seats at the Ferguson Theater, all of this in the Cockney accent that made him sound like a bad imitation of an Englishman. â€Å"So to what do I owe the honor of this visit?† he asked. â€Å"Know a woman named Martha Coleridge?† Brown said. â€Å"Know of her,† Palmer said, â€Å"but I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.† â€Å"Did you receive a letter from her recently?† â€Å"Oh indeed I did.† â€Å"Accompanying a play called My Room, and a copy of the opening night program?† â€Å"Yes. All that. Indeed.† â€Å"What’d you think of it?† Carella asked. â€Å"Can’t say I read the play. But I thought the letter quite interesting.† â€Å"What’d you do about it?† Palmer was carrying some five or six folded shirts from the dresser to the bed. He stopped, looked across the bed at the detectives, and said, â€Å"Do about it? Was I supposed to do something about it?† â€Å"Didn’t the letter seem threatening to you?† â€Å"Well, no, actually. I simply took her for a barmy old lady,† Palmer said, and began arranging the shirts in the suitcase. â€Å"Didn’t find her at all threatening, huh?† â€Å"Was I supposed to find her threatening?† Palmer said, and managed to look surprised, and amused, and at the same time somehow challenging, like a kid making a cute face for grandma and grandpa, his blue eyes opening wide, his mouth curling into an impish little grin. Again, Carella had the feeling he was imitating someone, perhaps a comic he’d seen on a music hall stage, perhaps a silly comedian in a movie. Or perhaps he was merely stupid. â€Å"Did you call her or anything?† Brown asked. â€Å"Lord, no!† Palmer said. â€Å"Didn’t think it was worth a call, huh?† â€Å"Certainly not.† â€Å"Did you talk to either Cynthia Keating or Felicia Carr about it?† â€Å"No. I didn’t.† â€Å"Mention it to Mr Zimmer? Or his partner?† â€Å"I may have, yes.† â€Å"When was that?† â€Å"That I mentioned it to them? At the party, I would imagine.† â€Å"Didn’t call either of them before the party, huh?† â€Å"No. Was I supposed to ring them?† â€Å"No, but how come you didn’t?† â€Å"Well, let me see. The material was forwarded to me from Mr Zimmer’s office, you know. So I assumed he already knew what it was about. In which case, there was no need to call him, was there?† Again the impish, somewhat insulting raised eyebrows and grin that said, Now, really, this is all quite elementary stuff, isn’t it, chaps? So why are we getting all in a dither about it, eh? Brown felt like smacking him right in the eye. â€Å"Didn’t you feel this woman was endangering the show?† â€Å"Of course I did!† â€Å"And a possible future windfall?† â€Å"Of coursel† Palmer said. â€Å"But she wanted a hundred thousand dollars from each of us! A hundred thousand! She could just as easily have asked for a hundred million. I shouldn’t have been able to give her either sum, don’t you see? Do you know how much I earn in the post room at Martins and Grenville? Seven thousand pounds a year. That’s a far shout from a hundred thousand dollars.† Again the raised eyebrows. The wide blue eyes. The lopsided grin. Brown was doing the arithmetic. He figured seven thousand pounds came to about ten-five a year in dollars. â€Å"So you just let it drop,† he said. â€Å"I just let it†¦Ã¢â‚¬  A shrug. â€Å"Drop, yes. As you put it.† A pursing of the lips. â€Å"I simply ignored it.† â€Å"And now she’s dead,† Brown said, and watched him. â€Å"I know,† Palmer said. â€Å"I saw the news in one of your tabloids.† No widening of the big blue eyes this time. No look of surprise. If anything, there was instead a somewhat exaggerated expression of sorrow. More and more, Carella felt the man was acting a part, pretending to be someone a lot smarter, a lot more sophisticated than the underpaid mailroom clerk he actually was. â€Å"How’d you feel when you read the story?† he asked. â€Å"Well, I shouldn’t have wanted the woman to die, certainly,† Palmer said. â€Å"But I must admit we’re all much better off this way.† And raised his eyebrows again, and widened his eyes, no grin this time, just a look that said Well, don’t you agree? He closed the lid on his suitcase, jiggled the numbers on the combination lock, and dusted his hands in dismissal. â€Å"There,† he said. â€Å"What time do you leave on Sunday?† Brown asked. â€Å"The eight o’clock flight.† â€Å"Then there’s still time.† â€Å"Oh? For what?† To nail you, Brown thought. â€Å"Catch a matinee,† he said. â€Å"Lots of Saturday matinees here.† â€Å"London, too,† Palmer said, almost wistfully. The person in charge of giving out the keys to the project’s recreation room was an old black man who introduced himself solely as Michael, no last name. People seemed to have no last names these days, Ollie noticed, not that he gave a damn. But it seemed to him a person should be proud of his last name, which was for Chrissake only his heritage. Instead, you got only first names from every jackass in every doctor’s office and bank. And now this keeper of the keys here, telling him his name was Michael, served him right he’d been born a shuffling old darkie. â€Å"I’m looking for a Jamaican got a knife scar down his face, a tattooed star on his pecker, that plays the saxophone,† Ollie said. The old man burst out laughing. â€Å"It ain’t funny,† Ollie said. â€Å"He maybe killed two people.† â€Å"That ain’t funny, all right,† Michael agreed, sobering. â€Å"See him around here? Some lady told me he played his saxophone in here.† â€Å"You mean the guy from London?† Michael asked. They were all sitting in the squadroom, around Carella’s desk, drinking the coffee Alf Miscolo had brewed in the Clerical Office. Ollie was the only one there who thought the coffee tasted vile. Over the years, the others had come â€Å"And a possible future windfall?† â€Å"Of coursel† Palmer said. â€Å"But she wanted a hundred thousand dollars from each of us! A hundred thousand! She could just as easily have asked for a hundred million. I shouldn’t have been able to give her either sum, don’t you see? Do you know how much I earn in the post room at Martins and Grenville? Seven thousand pounds a year. That’s a far shout from a hundred thousand dollars.† Again the raised eyebrows. The wide blue eyes. The lopsided grin. Brown was doing the arithmetic. He figured seven thousand pounds came to about ten-five a year in dollars. â€Å"So you just let it drop,† he said. â€Å"I just let it†¦Ã¢â‚¬  A shrug. â€Å"Drop, yes. As you put it.† A pursing of the lips. â€Å"I simply ignored it.† â€Å"And now she’s dead,† Brown said, and watched him. â€Å"I know,† Palmer said. â€Å"I saw the news in one of your tabloids.† No widening of the big blue eyes this time. No look of surprise. If anything, there was instead a somewhat exaggerated expression of sorrow. More and more, Carella felt the man was acting a part, pretending to be someone a lot smarter, a lot more sophisticated than the underpaid mailroom clerk he actually was. â€Å"How’d you feel when you read the story?† he asked. â€Å"Well, I shouldn’t have wanted the woman to die, certainly,† Palmer said. â€Å"But I must admit we’re all much better off this way.† And raised his eyebrows again, and widened his eyes, no grin this time, just a look that said Well, don’t you agree? He closed the lid on his suitcase, jiggled the numbers on the combination lock, and dusted his hands in dismissal. â€Å"There,† he said. â€Å"What time do you leave on Sunday?† Brown asked. â€Å"The eight o’clock flight.† â€Å"Then there’s still time.† â€Å"Oh? For what?† To nail you, Brown thought. â€Å"Catch a matinee,† he said. â€Å"Lots of Saturday matinees here.† â€Å"London, too,† Palmer said, almost wistfully. The person in charge of giving out the keys to the project’s recreation room was an old black man who introduced himself solely as Michael, no last name. People seemed to have no last names these days, Ollie noticed, not that he gave a damn. But it seemed to him a person should be proud of his last name, which was for Chrissake only his heritage. Instead, you got only first names from every jackass in every doctor’s office and bank. And now this keeper of the keys here, telling him his name was Michael, served him right he’d been born a shuffling old darkie. â€Å"I’m looking for a Jamaican got a knife scar down his face, a tattooed star on his pecker, that plays the saxophone,† Ollie said. The old man burst out laughing. â€Å"It ain’t funny,† Ollie said. â€Å"He maybe killed two people.† â€Å"That ain’t funny, all right,† Michael agreed, sobering. â€Å"See him around here? Some lady told me he played his saxophone in here.† â€Å"You mean the guy from London?† Michael asked. They were all sitting in the squadroom, around Carella’ s desk, drinking the coffee Alf Miscolo had brewed in the Clerical Office. Ollie was the only one there who thought the coffee tasted vile. Over the years, the others had come to believe the coffee didn’t taste too bad at all, was in fact the sort of gourmet coffee one might find in little sidewalk cafes in Paris or Seattle. Ollie almost spit out his first sip. He was there to tell them what he had learned downtown at Rockfort. The four detectives listening to him were Carella, Brown, Meyer, and Kling, who’d been dogging various aspects of this case for what seemed forever but was in actuality only since October 29. Ollie felt somewhat like a guest on a talk show. Carella was the host, and the others were earlier guests who’d moved over to make room for Ollie when he’d come on to exuberant whistling and thunderous applause. Brown and Meyer were sitting on chairs they’d pulled over from their own desks. Kling was sitting on one corner of Carella’s desk. This was a nice cozy little talk show here, with the temperature outside hovering at somewhere between twenty and twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit, which came to six or seven below zero Celsius, more or less, good to be inside on a night like tonight. The clock on the squadroom wall read a quarter past five, or 1715, depending on your point of view. Ollie had called from downtown right after he’d spoken to Mr Michael and then again to the lady who’d offered him another banana, asking Carella to wait for him, he’d be right there. That had been at ten to four. The snow had delayed Ollie, what can you do, an act of God, he explained. It was still snowing, the flying flakes spattering against the squadroom windows like ghosts desperately seeking entrance. â€Å"The way I understood it,† Ollie said, â€Å"Bridges was there with his cousin for a week or so at the beginning of November. Rec room guy remembers him coming in to practice his saxophone. I figure this was after he done the Hale murder and before he flew back home.† â€Å"The rec room guy told you all this?† â€Å"Not about the murder, that’s my surmise. He didn’t know anything about that.† â€Å"Then what?† â€Å"The cousin, the sax, him flying back home.† â€Å"Did you talk to the cousin?† â€Å"Knocked on the door, no answer. But I figured this was important enough to get moving on it right away. Which is why I’m here.† â€Å"Who told you the sax player’s name was John Bridges?† â€Å"The rec room guy.† â€Å"And told you he’d flown back home to Houston?† â€Å"Yes and no,† Ollie said, and grinned. â€Å"Let us guess, okay?† â€Å"He did not fly home to Houston, Texas.† â€Å"Then where did he go?† â€Å"Euston, England. Sounds the same, ah yes, but it’s spelled different. E-U-S-T-O-N. That’s a locality, is what they call it in London. I went back to my lady who cooks fried bananas . . .† â€Å"Huh?† Carella said. â€Å"A lady in the project, her name is Sarah Crawford, she cooks great fried bananas.† Ollie felt he now had their complete attention. â€Å"She’s Jamaican, she told me all about Euston and also King’s Cross – which is a nearby ward, is what they call it in London – where there are lots of hookers, drug dealers, and train stations. She didn’t know Bridges personally, but his cousin told her he lived in Euston. So that’s it, ah yes,† Ollie said. â€Å"You know anybody else from London?† They were waiting outside the Ferguson Theater when Gerald Palmer showed up for the eight o’clock performance that night. He was wearing a dark blue overcoat over the brown suit, canary-colored, white-collared shirt, and brown silk tie they’d seen on his bed earlier that day. His hair and the shoulders of the coat were dusted with snow. He opened his blue eyes wide when he saw Carella and Brown standing there near the ticket taker, waiting for him. There was a blond woman on his arm. She looked puzzled when the detectives approached. â€Å"Mr Palmer,† Carella said, â€Å"would you mind coming along with us?† â€Å"What for?† he asked. â€Å"Few questions we’d like to ask you.† As if trying to impress the blonde – or perhaps because he was merely stupid – Palmer assumed the same wide-eyed, smirky, defiant look they’d seen on his face earlier. â€Å"Awfully sorry,† he said. â€Å"I have other plans.† â€Å"So do we,† Brown said. The blonde accepted Palmer’s gracious offer to go see the play alone while he took care of this â€Å"silly business,† as he called it, still playing the Prime Minister dealing with a pair of cheeky reporters. All the way uptown, he kept complaining about the police in this city, telling them they had no right treating a foreigner this way, which of course they had every right in the world to do, the law applying equally to citizens and visitors alike unless they had diplomatic immunity. They read him his rights the moment he was in custody. These were vastly different from those mandated in the UK, but he had no familiarity with either, as he explained to them, never having been in trouble with the law in his life. In fact, he could not understand why he seemed to be in police custody now, which was the same old song they’d heard over the centuries from ax murderers and machine-gun Kellys alike. Out of deference to his foreign status, they sat him down in the lieutenant’s office, which was more comfortable than the interrogation room, and offered him some of Miscolo’s coffee, or a cup of tea, if that was his preference. In response, he affected his Eyes Wide Open, Eyebrows Raised, Lips Pursed in Indignation look again, and told them there was no need to presume stereotypical behavior, in that he rarely drank tea and in fact much preferred coffee as his beverage of preference, redundantly sounding exactly like the sort of Englishman he was trying not to sound like. â€Å"So tell us, Mr Palmer,† Carella said. â€Å"Do you know anyone named John Bridges?† â€Å"No. Who is he?† â€Å"We think he may have killed Andrew Hale.† â€Å"I’m sorry, am I supposed to know who Andrew Hale is?† â€Å"You’re supposed to know only what you know,† Carella said. â€Å"Ah, brilliant,† Palmer said. â€Å"He’s from Euston.† â€Å"Andrew Hale?† â€Å"John Bridges. Do you know where Euston is?† â€Å"Of course I do.† â€Å"Know anyone from Euston?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Or King’s Cross?† â€Å"Those aren’t neighborhoods I ordinarily frequent,† Palmer said. â€Å"Know any Jamaicans in London?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"When did you first learn Andrew Hale was being difficult?† â€Å"I don’t know anyone named Andrew Hale.† â€Å"He’s Cynthia Keating’s father. Did you know he once owned the underlying rights to Jenny’s Room.† â€Å"I don’t know anything about him or any rights he may have owned.† â€Å"No one ever informed you of that?† â€Å"Not a soul.† â€Å"Then you’re learning it for the first time this very minute, is that right?† â€Å"Well †¦ no. Not precisely this very minute.† â€Å"Then you knew it before now.† â€Å"Yes, I suppose I did. Come to think of it.† â€Å"When did you learn about it?† â€Å"I really can’t remember.† â€Å"Would it have been before October twenty-ninth?† â€Å"Who can remember such a long time ago?† â€Å"Do you remember how you learned about it?† â€Å"I probably read it in a newspaper.† â€Å"Which newspaper, do you recall?† â€Å"I’m sorry, I don’t.† â€Å"Do you remember when that might have been?† â€Å"I’m sorry, no.† â€Å"Was it a British newspaper?† â€Å"Oh, I’m certain not.† â€Å"Then it was an American paper, is that right?† â€Å"I really don’t know what sort of paper it was. It might have been British, I’m sure I don’t know.† â€Å"But you said it wasn’t.† â€Å"Yes, but I really don’t remember.† â€Å"How well do you know Cynthia Keating?† â€Å"Hardly at all. We met for the first time a week ago.† â€Å"Where was that?† â€Å"At Connie’s party.† â€Å"The Meet ‘N’ Greet?† â€Å"Why, yes.† â€Å"Never talked to her before then?† â€Å"Never. Am I supposed to have spoken to her?† â€Å"We were just wondering.† â€Å"Oh? About what?† â€Å"About when you first spoke to her.† â€Å"I told you . . .† â€Å"You see, after we learned Mr Bridges was from London . . .† â€Å"Big city, you realize.† â€Å"Yes, we know that.† â€Å"If you’re suggesting he and I might have known each other, that is.† â€Å"But you said you didn’t.† â€Å"That’s right. I’m saying the population is even larger than it is here. So if you’re suggesting I might have known a Jamaican, no less, from Euston or King’s Cross . . .† â€Å"But you don’t.† â€Å"That’s right.† â€Å"And you never met Cynthia Keating, either . . .† â€Å"Well, not until . . .† â€Å"The party at Connie Lindstrom’s, right.† â€Å"That’s correct.† â€Å"Never even spoke to her before then.† â€Å"Never.† â€Å"Which is what made us wonder. When we were going over our notes. After we learned Mr Bridges . . .† â€Å"Oh, you take notes, do you? How clever.† â€Å"Mr Palmer,† Carella said, â€Å"it might go better for you if you stopped being such a wise ass.† â€Å"I didn’t realize it was going badly† Palmer said, and raised his eyebrows and opened his eyes wide and smiled impishly. â€Å"I was merely trying to point out that scads of people are from London, that’s all.† â€Å"Yes, but not all of them are linked to Cynthia Keating’s father.† â€Å"I never met Andrew Hale in my life. And I’m certainly not linked to him, as you’re suggesting.† â€Å"Mr Palmer,† Carella said, â€Å"how did you know Martha Coleridge wanted a hundred thousand dollars from each of you?† The blue eyes went wide again. The eyebrows arched. The lips pursed. â€Å"Well †¦ let me think,† he said. They waited. â€Å"Mr Palmer?† Carella said. â€Å"Someone must have told me.† â€Å"Yes, who?† â€Å"I can’t remember.† â€Å"You didn’t talk to Miss Coleridge herself, did you?† â€Å"Of course not. I never even met the woman!† â€Å"Then who told you?† â€Å"I have no idea.† â€Å"Was it Cynthia Keating?† Palmer did not answer. â€Å"Mr Palmer? It was Cynthia Keating, wasn’t it?† He still said nothing. â€Å"Did she also tell you her father owned the underlying rights to the play?† Palmer folded his arms across his chest. â€Å"And was refusing to part with them?† Palmer’s look said his carriage had just run over an urchin in the cobbled streets and he was ordering his coachman to move on regardless. â€Å"I guess that’s it, huh?† Carella said. Palmer took an enameled snuff box from the pocket of his brocaded waistcoat, disdainfully opened the box, and sniffed a pinch of snuff into each nostril. Or so it seemed to the assembled flatfoots. They called Nellie Brand and spelled out what they thought they had. At the very least, they figured they were cool with conspiracy to commit first-degree murder. Nellie advised them to pick up Cynthia Keating and bring her in. She herself got there in half an hour. It was seven thirty-five on the face of the squadroom clock, and it was still snowing outside. They brought Cynthia in ten minutes later. Todd Alexander came to the party at ten past eight. He promptly informed them that his client would not answer any questions and he warned them that unless they charged her with something at once she was marching right out of there. It now remained to see who would blink first. â€Å"I wouldn’t be so hasty, Todd,† Nellie said. â€Å"You stand to make a lot of money here.† â€Å"Oh? How do you figure that?† â€Å"I plan to consolidate the two murders. This’ll be a very long trial. I hope your client has a gazillion dollars.† â€Å"Which two murders are you talking about?† Alexander asked. â€Å"First off, the murder for hire of Mrs Keating’s father . . .† â€Å"Oh, I see, murder for hire.† He turned to Cynthia and said, â€Å"Murder for hire is first-degree murder.† â€Å"Tell her what she’s looking at, Todd.† â€Å"Why waste my breath? Is that what you’re charging her with? Murder One? If so, do it.† â€Å"What’s your hurry? Don’t you want to hear me out? I can save your life,† Nellie said, turning to Cynthia. â€Å"I can also save you a lot of money.† â€Å"Thanks,† Cynthia said, â€Å"but my life’s not in danger †¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Don’t kid your . . .† â€Å". . . and I’ll be rich once Jenny’s . . .† â€Å"The penalty for Murder One is lethal injection,† Nellie said. â€Å"I’m offering you a real bargain discount.† â€Å"What exactly do you think you have?† Alexander asked. â€Å"I’ve got an old man standing in the way of what your client perceives as a fortune. I’ve got a bird brain in London who looks at it the same way. The two conspire to . . .† â€Å"Mrs Keating and somebody in London, are you saying?† â€Å"A specific somebody named Gerald Palmer. Who also stands to make a fortune if this show is a hit.† â€Å"And they conspired to kill Mrs Keating’ s father, are you saying?† â€Å"That’s our surmise, Todd.† â€Å"A wild one.† â€Å"The Brits have been known,† Nellie said. â€Å"Sure, Richard the Second.† â€Å"Even more recently.† â€Å"You’re saying . . .† â€Å"I’m saying the pair of them found a Jamaican hit man named John Bridges, brought him here to America . . .† â€Å"Oh, please, Nellie.† â€Å"The Metropolitan Police are checking his pedigree this very minute. Once they get back to us . . .† â€Å"Ah, Sherlock Holmes now.† â€Å"No, just a detective named Frank Beaton.† â€Å"This is all nonsense,† Cynthia said. â€Å"Fine, take your chances,† Nellie said. â€Å"What do you want from her?† â€Å"Her partner and the hit man.† â€Å"That’s everybody.† â€Å"No, that’s only two people.† â€Å"What do you give her in return?† â€Å"Is this me you’re talking about?† Cynthia asked. â€Å"Just a second, Cyn,† Alexander said. â€Å"Never mind just a second. If she had anything, she wouldn’t be trying to strike a deal here.† â€Å"You think so, huh?† Nellie said. â€Å"What can you give us?† Alexander asked. â€Å"She rats them out, I drop the charge to Murder Two. Twenty to life as opposed to the Valium cocktail.† â€Å"Go to fifteen,† Alexander said. â€Å"Twenty. With a recommendation for parole.† â€Å"Come on, at least give me the minimum.† â€Å"Fifteen can come and go without parole,† Nellie said. â€Å"And then twenty, and thirty, and forty, and still no parole. Before you know it, your lady’s in there for the rest of her life. Take my advice. Twenty with a recommendation.† â€Å"She’d be sixty when she got out!† â€Å"Fifty-seven,† Cynthia corrected. But she was thinking. â€Å"On the other hand, you can always roll the dice. Just remember, you’re looking at the death penalty. You’ll sit on death row for five, six years while you exhaust all your appeals – and that’ll be it.† â€Å"Recommend parole after fifteen,† Alexander said. â€Å"I can’t do that.† â€Å"Twenty just isn’t sweet enough.† â€Å"How sweet is the cocktail?† Nellie asked. How to cite The Last Dance Chapter Nine, Essay examples

SIGNIFICANCE OF THE TITLE (THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING Essays

SIGNIFICANCE OF THE TITLE (THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST) The title of Oscar Wilde's most successful play The Importance of Being Earnest follows an English tradition of using multiple meanings of a word. In this play the word earnest has been used differently. The word "earnest" means honest", and "truth ful" and the name "Ernest" is the name of the alter ego that main character Jack Worthing uses to slide away from respo nsibilities. The reality is, however, that nobody in the play seems to be very "earnest" as it is. Algernon proudly and blatantly lies just about everything under the sun while Jack criticizes Algernon. This, he does while Jack ALSO lies about this so-called bad brother named Ernest whom he has to rescue all the time by going to the city and staying there paying for all his follies. On one level, you may say that the characters are not "earnest" in their behaviors; that they are all frivolous and irresponsible. On another level, each of the characters is precisely earnest in following their convictions. Cecily is adamantly earnest in having fallen in love with her guardian's rascally brother Earnest who lives and causes trouble in London. Gwendolyn is earnest in her conviction that she could never love anyone not named Earnest. Algernon is earnest in his need to be free to escape to the leisure of the country as a Bunburyist . John Worthing is wholeheartedly earnest in his ploy of escaping the tedium of the country by having an irresponsible brother named Earnest living in London who needs care. T he title of the play reflects that there is something valuable and even honorable about being "earnest", or honest , because when you are truthfull and serious about your belief you can earn respect and love of others. So being earnest makes you respectable and loveable among people.

“Silence” by Shusaku Endo Essays

â€Å"Silence† by Shusaku Endo Essays â€Å"Silence† by Shusaku Endo Essay â€Å"Silence† by Shusaku Endo Essay â€Å"Silence† by Shusaku Ebdo provides detailed overview of life and adventures of Portuguese missionary priest. The author shows that the priest was responsible for administering Christian community in Japan. However, the author raises the themes of religious intolerance and discrimination showing that main hero suffered from religious prosecution by Japanese authorities. Also the author explores eternal themes of despair, apostasy, faith, martyrdom, redemption and religious sin. The book, thus, can be considered profound exploration of Incarnation logic. Actually, the author tends to show that God’s journey from Heaven isn’t paid proper attention and God’s omnipotence is contradicted. One more theme is hero’s personal struggle as Christian in Japan meaning that the author explores the paradox of a crucified God. Speaking about interesting moment it is necessary to explain the meaning of the book’s title – Silence. Endo assumes that Silence symbolizes strangeness of Christ’s death and incarnation. The author shows that Rodriguez is rather concerned with God’s silence. He can’t understand why God prefers to keep silence when seeing human agony and suffering. Firstly the hero thinks the God is simply sitting and doing nothing: his arms are folded. Rodriguez claims that God remains indifferent when simple and innocent people in God’s name. Nevertheless, the author shows that Rodriguez in such a way is tempted to apostatize with the purpose to save peasant because he asserts that God won’t help and save them. Finally, God’s silence leads to the fact that the pres loses faith in God. Nonetheless, the author points out that sometime Rodriguez hears that God breaks the silence. It is suggested that it is merely Rodriguez imagination. He imagine s that Christ speaks to him from the fumie: â€Å"Trample! It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world. It was to share mens pain that I carried my cross†. In such a way God has responded to the misery and suffering of humans by giving the Word. Endo, Shusaku. (2006). Silence. UK, London: Peter Owen Publishers.

Definition and Examples of Lexicogrammar

Definition and Examples of Lexicogrammar Lexicogrammar is a term used in systemic functional linguistics (SFL) to emphasize the interdependence ofand continuity betweenvocabulary (lexis) and syntax (grammar). The term lexicogrammar (literally, lexicon plus grammar) was introduced by linguist M.A.K. Halliday. Adjective: lexicogrammatical. Also, called lexical grammar. The advent of corpus linguistics, notes Michael Pearce, has made the identification of lexicogrammatical patterns much easier than it once was (Routledge Dictionary of English Language Studies, 2007). Examples and Observations Vocabulary and grammatical structures are interdependent; so much so that it is possible to say with some justification that words have their own grammar. This interdependency of lexis and grammar is evident everywhere in language. For example, lexical verbs have valency patterns: some verbs can be used with a direct object (I made some oven gloves), or with both a direct object and an indirect object (The government awarded them a pay rise), others need no object at all (The Colonel was laughing).  (Michael Pearce, The Routledge Dictionary of English Language Studies. Routledge, 2007)The heart of language is the abstract level of coding that is the lexicogrammar. (I see no reason why we should not retain the term grammar in this, its traditional sense; the purpose of introducing the more cumbersome term lexicogrammar is simply to make explicit the point that vocabulary is also a part of it, along with syntax and morphology).  (M.A.K. Halliday, Systemic Background, 1985. On Langu age and Linguistics. Continuum, 2003) [A]ccording to systemic functional theory, lexicogrammar is diversified into a metafunctional spectrum, extended in delicacy from grammar to lexis, and ordered into a series of ranked units.  (M.A.K. Halliday, Hallidays Introduction to Functional Grammar, 4th ed., revised by Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen. Routledge, 2013)[L]exico-grammar is now very fashionable, but it does not integrate the two types of pattern as its name might suggestit is fundamentally grammar with a certain amount of attention to lexical patterns within the grammatical frameworks; it is not in any sense an attempt to build together a grammar and lexis on an equal basis...Lexico-grammar is still firmly a kind of grammar, laced, or perhaps spiked with some lexis. (John Sinclair, Trust the Text: Language, Corpus and Discourse, edited with Ronald Carter. Routledge, 2004) Lexicogrammar and Semantics Just as lexis and grammar are considered to form a single stratum, Halliday considers that the lexicogrammar is not a separate system or module apart from semantics, but is rather an underlying component of the meaning-making system of a language. The stratum of semantics is thus not thought of as an abstract or logical structure, but rather as the medium through which humans use language to interact in their social and cultural context. A consequence of this is that the language, and in particular the lexicogrammar, is structured by the expressive and communicative functions it has evolved to convey.   (Christopher Gledhill, A Lexicogrammar Approach to Checking Quality: Looking at One or Two Cases of Comparative Translation. Perspectives on Translation Quality, ed. by Ilse Depraetere. Walter de Gruyter, 2011) Lexicogrammar and Corpus Linguistics Generalizations on the structure of language tell us little about how people actually use the language, and consequently how a language really is. The patterns of structural and lexical behaviour are not revealed by the linguists introspection or from a few examples chosen to fit the pattern. This is the conclusion that increasingly is being drawn from a growing body of linguistic research on large computer corpora or databases. It is only when we come to investigate a language from samples of millions of words of running text that we can really begin to understand how words and structures behave and interact...A theory of language or a model of a particular language . . . has to account for use as attested by corpus linguistic research. If such a theory purports to give rise to language description, it must have the potential to incorporate the vagaries and idiosyncrasies of lexicogrammatical behaviour and the cryptotypical phenomena which are uncovered by the observation of languag e use on a significantly larger scale.  (Gordon H. Tucker, The Lexicogrammar of Adjectives: A Systemic Functional Approach to Lexis. Continuum, 1998) Alternate Spellings: lexico-grammar

Perks and Benefits in The Organisations Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

Perks and Benefits in The Organisations - Essay Example This makes it clear that the branch of fringe benefits has a lot of examples and types under its shelter making it easier for employers to pick the ones feasible for them to motivate their employees. A company offering a high level of fringe benefits is also regarded as one of the best employers and makes a market reputation of itself in the job market ending up in hiring the best of all applicants (Wisteret, 1959). The nature It is seen that everything which gives an appropriate level of advantages is said to have some draw backs of using it as well. Fringe benefits by nature are regarded as employee motivators and factors to approve your desirability as an employer in the market; it can be proved as well by looking at the top most employers of all time who are said to be giving out many fringe benefits to their employees apart from good salaries which has made them create their good image in the employment market (Newstrom, 1977). However, Fringe benefits, like everything else can cause a certain amount of damage to the organization as well if we look at them from the perspective of small employers. To them, fringe benefits can be very costly and can also cause problems in the capital management of the organization. Moreover, not distinguishing employers by their size, it is seen that many employers offering a good level of fringe benefits face trial in the court due to complains by some neglected or incapable employees who fail to show desired performance to become eligible of the benefits. This costs many companies a whole lot of money while also creating a bad image of them in the market. The range Fringe benefits today can include numerous things such as: housing arrangements provided by the employer, free or discounted medical facilities, day care services, insurance plans, retirement and provident fund packages, job security, year-end paid vacations, provision of cars and a lot more Specific packages Provident fund and pension packages Such packages are usually offered from the lower level of staff to the highest level but they tend to differ from one another on the seniority basis Housing facilities Housing packages are generally provided to senior employees in most companies but some might give their lower level employees a hostel type of accommodation as well. Accommodation just like other packages gets bigger and more comfortable as an employee climbs the ladder up in an organization Day care services Such packages are mostly offered to all company employees as this arrangement is offered at the premises of the company itself. New development in packages Day care services and job security packages are the new advancements Conclusion Fringe benefits are the oldest form of compensation apart from salary and wages and will continue to be offered by employers to motivate and retrench its workforce. MATERNITY BENEFITS Introduction Whether a company has given attention to maternity benefits or not an employee is still entitled to ma ternity benefits by law. Law, they differ from country to country but Women who are pregnant, have recently given birth or are caring for a new born are all entitled to maternity benefits, moreover, parents who have recently adopted a child also can apply for them in many countries.

Comparative Media system paper in Latin America and the Caribbean Term

Comparative Media system in Latin America and the Caribbean - Term Paper Example The filmmakers spent at least several months filming Hugo Chavez, his close staff, as well as conducting interviews with Venezuelan citizens. With the coup unfolding, the filmmakers captured footage on the capital’s streets, filming protesters and the increasing violence. The film/documentary’s neutrality has been variously disputed as it painted only Chavez in a positive light, particularly focusing its attention on framing the 11th to 13th of April violence, timeline editing, and omission of personnel and incidents (Stoneman 840). Cited either as a misrepresentation or an accurate portrayal of the coup’s events, the film contends that private media selectively used the footage to create an impression that the violence was, as a result, of uncivilized and irrational mobs of Chavez supporters. Private media, especially television, repeatedly portrayed supporters of Hugo Chavez shooting into the Baralt Avenue from the Puente Llaguno Bridge, which was occupied by m archers from the opposition (Couret 504). The film contends that footage from this scene was edited to focus on the gunmen, whereas avoiding the people next to them who were trying to cover themselves from being shot. The film goes on to show the images that were shot from the said bridge, which showed that Baralt Avenue was empty and that there was no march by the opposition on this route. It also showed that those Hugo Chavez supporters were returning fire after being shot at. While it has been charged that this editing in the film was acting as a misrepresentation, especially that the film/documentary makes no mention of the fact that there was shooting at both sets of protesters, the filmmakers were quick to say that the film did not claim that only supporters of the president were fired upon. There have also been assertions that the footage showed in the film showing the empty Baralt Avenue was shot earlier (Couret 505). It has also been claimed that the street below was not as empty as the film wanted to portray. However, the filmmakers reaffirmed their there were no opposition marches below the bridge at Puente Llaguno with reports from eyewitnesses. The filmmakers, O’Brien and Bartley, were present for the entire period of the coup attempt and in their film/documentary; the filmmakers show the audience the immense power that is held by the mass media, especially the television, in the arena of modern politics (Couret 506). Hugo Chavez, as president of Venezuela, ensured that every television station was, at liberty, to broadcast any message that they so wanted; although, he went on to use the television station under state control for a question and answer session that involved him each week. This was meant to show that Hugo Chavez was a man of the people. This sought to counter the privately owned media that was against him by giving him a platform to communicate with his people. Following the coup attempt, the stations that were anti-Chavez sh owed repeatedly footage of demonstrations that were meant to give the impression that Chavez supporters were attacking Chavez supporters (Schiller 483). What the film illustrates is that the supporters of President Chavez were, in fact, under attack from snipers and were simply being forced to protect themselves by firing back. The news media, especiall

The Childrens Thoughts of Mrs. Kay in Our Day Out :: Our Day Out Willy Russell Essays

The Children's Thoughts of Mrs. Kay in Our Day Out In the introduction I am going to use a paragraph to describe what the children think about Mrs Kay and Les's quote about Mr Briggs. In the story, Reilly describes Miss Kay as 'ace'. When Les stops Mr Briggs at the crossing his says to a child 'I got him that time. 'Arrogant get that one is. I think this means that Les has tried to stop him in the mornings before but has failed'. Firstly I am going to describe Mrs Kay's and Mr Brigg's relationship with the pupils. Mrs Kay seams friendly with the pupils and plays football with them, but Briggs is more formal with and shouts. Mrs Kay sees the difficulties in the pupils and is sympathetic. A quote for this is 'we cant come al the way to the seaside and not go down to the beach. Briggs doesn't see the problems that the children have and treats like them like any other children. When they are at the castle Briggs says 'What does perpendicular mean?' A pupil answers him and he is laughed at. Mrs Kay doesn't enforce any rules on the children and lets them do as they please. Mrs Kay told the driver of the bus that the lead terrible lives so he felt sorry for them. She said to another member of staff the 'She lied like hell'. Mrs Kay lied for the children so I think that the children may lie as well thinking that it is the right thing to do. While Mr Briggs thinks that all children should be treated the same with problems or not. Therefore he acts hard on the children and is strict, for example 'Reilly. Dickson. Sit down! Mrs Kay messes around with the pupils. 'A game of football is in progress. Mrs Kay is in goal.' At this stage in the story Mr Briggs sees that it is a farce and refuse to cooperate for the rest of the trip. Secondly, I intend to explore both teachers' opinions about discipline. Mrs Kay lets them run free in the shop, steeling money and food, taking from the zoo and running a mockery inside of the castle. In the zoo, Briggs trusts the children to go around the zoo sensibly, while he has a cup of coffee with Mrs Kay. Some evidence for this is 'All right Mrs Kay. We'll trust them to act responsibly. When they get back on the bus later, all the children are quite, which is a bit unusual. Then the zookeepers come on board and take away the animals.

Muslim Women Essay

The more and more I study about Muslim Women and the obstacles they face, I become angered. In writing this paper, I’ve found that there is no substantial evidence in any Muslim or Islamic writings that states that women should be treated as slaves or insubordinates. Women are to be respected, protected, and loved; no matter what religion or color they may be. So, my paper will focus on these three things, but the lack of it. What is the definition of respect? Respect is a positive feeling of esteem or deference for a person or other entity. When you respect a person, you will show it through actions and deeds; without any conjuring. I’ve noticed that Muslim women aren’t respected too well within their own religion. The Sharia Law is the moral code and religious law of Islam which deals with many topics such as prayer, fasting, diet, sexual intercourse, hygiene, etc. It is considered the infallible law of God; there is no human interpretation. The two sources of this law are the Quran and Mohammed; the last source is part of the human interpretation that many state the Quran doesn’t possess. According to the Sharia, women aren’t equal to men unless it is in religious duties such as prayer, fasting, and making hajj. Contrary to what most Muslim men believe, a woman is not created for the purpose of a Muslim man. Rather, they are both created for each other. They are to help, support, and cleave to one another through their life and Islamic religion. Some Muslim men have taken the Quran and made it to be a falsity to their perception and added to it. This addition has caused many Muslim women to be disrespected and abused. Many Islamic religions are filled with much domestic violence. Take Bibi Aisha’s case, her husband was part of the Taliban and she never had a chance to see him. During his time away, her in-laws beat her, tortured her, and made her sleep with the livestock. The abuse became too much, so Bibi ran away, but her father returned her back to her in-laws. Due to her disappearance, her husband returned and he proceeded to torture her in front of the community by removing her ear and nose. She was left in the desert to bleed to death. She ran to her uncle’s house and he turned her away, but her father-in-law took her to the Americans (military) where they tended to her wounds and protected her. You can find her picture on my blog for this class. When I see her, I see a woman of strength and perseverance. It’s said to say, but this incident which brought her much pain, seems to have blessed her. It is because of the mutilation of her face that she is free and in a better place. It is well known within the Islamic culture that domestic abuse is hardly unique. Many Muslim women deal with this atrocity daily, due to the thoughts of Muslim men. Most Muslim males believe that Muslim women are slaves or property. Most husbands believe its right to beat their wives and treat her with disdain. An often-quoted verse in the Quran says a husband may chastise a disobedient wife, but this is open to several interpretations. What is the definition of protection and love? Protection is to cover or shield from exposure, injury, damage, or destruction and love is a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. I can’t say that I see these actions practiced within the Muslim culture. If anything, Muslim women are caused to feel scared, unsafe, unprotected, and abused. The most common form of abuse is emotional and mental abuse. This can include verbal threats, intimidation, neglect, extreme jealousy and possessiveness. The worse of the two is the mental abuse which causes severe psychological harm. It destroys her self-esteem, self-worth, and causes many to have nervous breakdowns and become suicidal. Some of the factors that make Muslim men abusive Muslim women are: 1. Economic hardship, political oppression experienced outside the U.S., problems with the children, or an inferiority complex. 2. Some Muslim men accept the idea that it’s normal for a man to hit his wife and that she is no more than a piece of his property. 3. It’s generational; habits are picked up after watching their own fathers abuse their mothers. 4. Some abuse their wives because they want them to be more â€Å"modern† and less Islamic. SO they have their wives remove their hijab (Islamic dress), while others turn to abuse in order to keep their wives traditional; which is the exact opposite of the former. In a marriage, the Quran is very clear on procedures in discipline for Islamic wives. First, there’s peaceful discussion between the two about the problem and resolutions. If this doesn’t work, the next step is for the husband to be more stern and focused. If the disobedience persists from the wife, the husband will leave the bed which is a form of punishment for not only the wife, but also the husband. If that doesn’t work, then other family members will become involved and try to help in resolving the issues and being fair to both parties. This is not totally true because the Muslim religion is male dominated and gender-controlled. The males within the family will be the first and last to define choices of resolution. Remember, Muslim women really don’t have rights. Whether it’s within their family, job, mosque, or society. There is no balance when it comes to gender or to resolving life’s issues in the Muslim culture. During this whole process, Muslim women keep quiet due to feelings of depression and hopelessness. They began to feel like no one will help them and they are constantly aware of their co-dependence to their husbands. Financial independence is something that is always in the forefront of their minds, but it’s always tainted by the images of control in the Muslim culture. So, they make a decision to stay in bondage to keep their homes, children, and the love of their husbands; the latter is questionable. Some Muslim women see the abuse as a fact of life and learn to live with it. So, what does the abuse and control have to do with Women’s Studies? Well, throughout the class we focused on many different types of situations that involved women; whether good or bad. The control and abuse that is present in the Muslim culture reminds of gender prejudice and gender discrimination. Both are one in the same, but speak of different influences. Gender prejudice is a belief that women are the weaker of the sexes emotionally and physically and must be protected from the world outside. I know that males are expected to be the providers and to dominate the decision making in the home, but there sh ould still be some form of balance. Balance is needed in everything; whether it’s life, work, or play. We all need to have a sense of structure or rules, but there must be a state of adjustment. In reviewing gender discrimination, you will find prejudicial treatment based upon groups or individuals due to their gender or sex; there is no protection factor involved. Gender discrimination can affect both men and women, but women are usually at the receiving end, since most cultures in the world are patriarchal and male-dominated. This isn’t a far cry for religions because mostly all religions are male-dominated. You will find women aren’t seen as being equal to men within the scope of religion. It is partly due to how man has interpreted their religious readings or scriptures, and twisted it to be a form of evil and disdain. Yes, there are places within scripture that speak of women being unclean due to their monthly or being untouchable after childbirth. But is it because the woman is evil, or is it a form of protection for her and anyone that she may come into contact with? All in all, I see the Islamic religion as being so gender biased that it causes me to become angered. This religion seems to prevent Muslim women from nurturing their true identity and blossoming into women of self-worth and self-esteem. Hiding one’s face can make a person feel unworthy and disconnected. It’s a joy to feel positive about yourself and who you are. Being able to feel good about your looks and your body can be very uplifting to the psyche and soul. What puts a damper on that? Having a father, brother, husband, or any male to make you feel that your very essence is despicable and dirty. Hopefully, in the 21st century, things will change and get better. Until then, it’s up to us to become more aware of the many differences of cultures and religions. These differences could cause or society to become cold, unloving, and aloof. I don’t believe our world should be this way. If anything, love should prevail and the worship of a power stronger than you should cause you to love everyone even the more. Bibliography Roald, Anne S. (2001). Women in Islam: The Western Experience. Routledge. Suad Joseph, Afsaneh Najmabadi, ed. Encyclopedia of Women & Islamic Cultures. Brill Academic Publishers. â€Å"Women and Violence.† Welcome to the United Nations: It’s Your World. United Nations Department of Public Information, Feb. 1996. Web. 07 Dec. 2011 â€Å"American Muslim Women Unveil, and Explain Why: NPR.† NPR: National Public Radio. 19 Oct. 2011. Muslim Clerics on the Religious Rulings Regarding Wife-Beating. Jihad Watch. 15 Nov. 2011.