Workplace Romance in the Hospitality Industry Research Paper

Work environment Romance in the Hospitality Industry - Research Paper Example Because of this consistent sharing of working space there stays a high possibility of the laborers in the accommodation business getting impractically associated with one another. Each specialist spends a lot of the day in their office. Over that the laborers in the accommodation business work under distressing conditions like round the day obligations and satisfying the requests of individuals of various types. Therefore looking for bolsters from collaborators and subsequent sprouting of sentiment between them is common pattern in this industry. In any office condition the associates share a great deal of feeling like encounters, interests, fears, misfortunes and accomplishments with one another. Subsequently it very well may be seen that the variables answerable for bringing forth sentiment are consistently present in the workplace. The consistent sharing of feelings may prompt the improvement of passionate and sentimental leanings on one another. The standard office sentiment diff ers from easygoing indulgences and undertakings to the more genuine connections. In the accommodation business there are likewise numerous examples of inappropriate behavior between colleagues and the researchers have recognized the work environment sentiment from lewd gestures. Work environments sentiments in have been characterized as relationship dependent on common want and physical fascination between the laborers of a similar association. It is additionally essential that the individuals have discovered each other through the course of their work and the relationship is consensual. For sentiment between laborers isolated by chain of importance it is significant that the sentiment spreads past the customary boss representative relationship. Laborers from all age bunch have been seen as related with working environment sentiment. Anyway the most elevated likelihood of sentiment between associates lies in the age bunch from 35 to 44. In a study practically 44% of the interviewee in this age bunch has confessed to date their associates (Pearce, 2010). Some significant purposes of conversation about work environment sentiment have been the foundations for the advancement of the sentiment, the impact of office sentiment on the friends and condition of the workplace just as on the individuals included legitimately and the administrative choice or mentality towards tolerating the sentiment (Odgers, 2004, pp 221-222; Burke, Mattis, 2005 p 153; Sias, 2009, p 140). It will be pertinent to specify that a considerable lot of the associations have a characterized strategy on working environment sentiment however no such references could be found straightforwardly for the cordiality business. It has regularly been discussed whether work environment sentiment prompts better execution of the representatives and furthermore the impact of sentiment on the other associates Reasons and the Consequences of Office Romance According to Fiona M. Wilson (2007) the investigation o f sentiment in office as a sociological subject began 30 years back. Such examinations were of gigantic enthusiasm for the administration who needed to know the outcome on the association because of sentiments between the laborers. As per Peter Corser (2011), an individual spends 33% of their day in their office. Under such a circumstance the creator thinks that its characteristic for sentiment to blend between the colleagues. Additionally it can likewise be referenced here that for individuals working in a group the aptitudes, encounters and the information are fundamentally the same as. In this way there is a high possibility of individuals sharing normal interests and subsequently finding each other alluring. Anyway he has likewise noticed that numerous associations have demoralizing approaches for such sentiments. The association has

The Women s Rights Movement Essay Maddy

The Women s Rights Movement Essay Maddy The Women s Rights Movement Essay Maddy Madison Bateman Mrs. Collins Square 4 June 2, 2015 Top Ten People, Places, and Events: The Women’s Rights Movement The Women’s Rights Movement is one of the numerous significant occasions ever. It has given ladies rights that they never figured they could have. Individuals like Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony made them conceivable. These ladies battled for what they knew ought to be theirs, and what they knew was conceivable, they helped give ladies the option to cast a ballot and made men consider ladies to be rises to. There were numerous ladies and men who made these things conceivable and they kept on battling for fairness in any event, when they were repelled, placed in prison, and declined on the grounds that the pioneers that ran these developments would not take no for an answer. Susan B. Anthony was conceived on February 15, 1820 in Massachusetts. At the point when she developed mature enough to live on her own she lived in a piece of upstate New York that would later be known as â€Å"Burn Distric t†. The consume area is the place strict restorations and where the arrangement of new strict developments happened. In 1853 Anthony started to campaign for the development of wedded women’s property rights. In 1856 she joined the American Anti-Slavery Society and in 1890 she joined the National American Women’s Suffrage Association close by the individuals who were eager to battle for previous slaves. Anthony and different supporters were captured for deciding on 1872, she was held for bail $1000 bail. Anthony has a dollar coin stamped in her respect. Susan B. Anthony died on March 13, 1906. Alice Paul was the pioneer of the most aggressor wing of the ladies testimonial development. She was conceived in 1885 to a well off Quaker family in New Jersey. In 1910 she joined the National American Women’s Suffrage Association as the seat of the congressional council. On March 3 out of 1913 she and a portion of her partners composed a testimonial presentation to occupy individuals from President Wilson’s initiation. The more moderate ladies of the NAWSA objected and got baffled with the exposure stunts that Paul built so she left and began her own development, close by Lucy Burns, the congressional association, which later turned into The National Women’s Party. In 1920 Alice proposed an Equal Rights Amendment to the constitution, â€Å"Men and ladies will have equivalent rights all through the United States†, and today it has still never been confirmed. Elizabeth Cady Stanton was one of the essential women’s rights activists of the nineteenth century. She was conceived on November 12, 1815 in upstate New York. After she wedded abolitionist, Henry Brewster, they made a trip to the world abolitionist subjugation show in London where they were dismissed and informed that female representatives were unwanted. In 1848 Stanton and individual reformers composed the women’s rights show in Seneca Falls, New York. In 1895 she distributed the main volume of a progressively populist women’s book of scriptures. Stanton died in 1902; today a sculpture is committed to Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Lucretia Mott remains in the US state house. Lucy Stone was conceived in Massachusetts in 1818. She was a spearheading abolitionist and women’s-rights extremist, she is most popular for declining to change her name when she wedded abolitionist Henry Blackwell in 1855. Stone moved on from Oberlin College in 1847 and turned into a voyaging instructor for the American Anti-Slavery Society. In 1871, Stone and Blackwell distributed the week by week women's activist paper, The Woman’s Journal. Stone died in 1893, the women’s diary made due until 1931. Ida B. Wells was conceived in Mississippi in 1862, she is most popular for her work as a battling columnist and hostile to lynching dissident. Wells worked for the dark paper, The Free Speech. In 1892 she left Memphis after an irate crowd destroyed the workplaces of The Free Speech and took steps to murder her is she at any point returned. In 1913 she arranged to join the testimonial procession through President Wilson’s introduction, yet coordinators requested that her not come: a portion of the white ladies wouldn’t walk

Term Paper on Computer Games

Insight and Dexterity are helpful blessing that God has enriched us. Henceforth, Man can tinker with nature. It is truthful and closed. We have the best chance to control things like: The Development of Medicine; Swift Transportation; Rapid Communications and the Aggrandizement of Technology. One of this is COMPUTER GAMES. PC Games is one of the indispensable issues in our general public to be centered around. Why? Since they state that Computer Games are one of the indecencies that the youngsters are been dependent, connected with.They could go throughout the day just to play different on the web or downloaded games. Apparently, it is there yearnings for them to be fulfilled. Much the same as there days wouldn’t complete if not played simply even one game. As indicated by Surveys, Computer Games has in fact an extraordinary impact on everyone. Since, we can imagine horde young people situated before PC set playing, getting a charge out of, and cussing with one another. Indeed , CUSSING. When been partial to it, youngsters are step by step adjusting the idea of an insane person player. Presently, they realize how to utilize indecent words to communicate their sentiments, a spring of gushing lava that would going to erupt.Another thing is that, we can not, at this point more to see youth who plays ball, volleyball and the remainder of the Sports Games that can truly helped a ton in our wellbeing and physical properties. That’s why they likewise included that Computer Games is step by step vanquishing sports. This is the reason the Government should take its activity to offer solution for this pandemic issue concerns our young people of today. Today, guardians despite everything stress over the impacts of savage PC games and obviously it likewise stays a mainstream subject for the media.However, with a developing number of youngsters and adolescents investing exorbitant energy playing PC games, maybe guardians ought to be increasingly stressed over y oungsters dependent on PC games than the impacts of fierce Computer Games. An assessment of the writing uncovers that the individuals who study computer game enslavement once in a while differ on the extent of kids and adolescents dependent on PC games. In any case, most of studies propose that roughly 5 to 10% of youth who play PC games become addicted.Compared to other mental troubles, (for example, melancholy and tension), adolescent PC game compulsion is clearly a generally new issue looked by families. All things considered, guardians may need precise or potentially accommodating data on the indications of PC game compulsion, the hazard factors for computer game fixation, and systems for helping adolescents dependent on PC games after the issue creates. Foundation The discussion on whether Computer Games have social impacts and cause viciousness among the players, particularly kids, can be followed back to 1976 when a computer game entitled Death Race was discharged on the mark et.The primary point of the game was to run over shouting beasts utilizing a vehicle which would then transform into gravestones. The pace of the game was passerby and the beasts took after human figures. There was an open clamor over this computer game and in the long run its creation stopped. There were other vicious Computer Games that were created later in 1993, for example, Night Trap and Mortal Combat, that were trailed by open clamor. Around the same time, a load up was set up in the United States to investigate Computer Games and rate them as per their substance (Siwek, 2007).The load up is known as the amusement programming rating load up (ESRB). The other computer game that pulled in media consideration was Rapelay, delivered in 2006 (Siwek, 2007). The computer game expected players to assault and tail a lady and her two young ladies. Such Computer Games are said to cause social change among kids. There are a few episodes that are connected to Computer Games, for example, the slaughter at Columbine High School that guaranteed 13 lives. Laws have been instituted to boycott or control the offer of Computer Games.For model, on the 27th of June 2007, the Supreme Court of the United States toppled the law in California that prohibited the offer of Computer Games to minors (Siwek, 2007). The court decided that the law disregarded the right to speak freely despite the fact that the state has a commitment to shield kids from hurt. Another perspective that ought to be noted in regards to Computer Games is that young men invest more energy playing than young ladies. Very few young ladies are keen on playing Computer Games, henceforth they are not influenced as much as young men of a comparable age (Anderson and Bushman, 2001).The Drawbacks of Children Playing Computer Games Most of the negative impacts because of playing Computer Games among kids can be accused on the fierce scenes contained in these games. At the point when a youngster invests an all-inclusiv e measure of energy playing such Computer Games, they turns out to be socially secluded. This implies a youngster needs more an ideal opportunity to interface with different citizenry (Anderson and Bushman, 2001). The kid who spends numerous hours daily playing Computer Games will have no an ideal opportunity to meet and make new companions. They may thusly turn out to be increasingly discouraged and lonelier in their homes.Children will likewise invest little energy in different exercises, for example, sports, perusing, and doing schoolwork. The kid turns out to be socially inert since they don't engage in social exercises. Some Computer Games encourage kids wrong qualities (Gunter, 1998). A large portion of the kids who invest quite a bit of their energy playing Computer Games are probably going to perform inadequately in school. A strong number of Computer Games are addictive. As opposed to examining or finishing schoolwork, a youngster invests energy playing Computer Games. Subs equently, terrible showing will be seen at schools. PC Games decrease a child’s innovative intuition as well.This implies that a youngster who winds up investing the vast majority of their energy playing Computer Games doesn't get an opportunity to think inventively or freely. Inventive reasoning is critical in building up a child’s inventiveness. By encouraging confinement, Computer Games may likewise influence a child’s wellbeing. Since they don't get enough substantial exercise, youngsters who invest most of their energy playing Computer Games are probably going to experience the ill effects of video-initiated seizures, heftiness and skeletal, strong and postural disarranges like tendinitis, carpal passage disorder, among others.Computer Games elevate kids to connect bliss and joy with the ability to make torment others. They build up the inclination that so as to be upbeat, one needs to cause others to endure. Youngsters who play Computer Games will in gener al create egotistical conduct (Anderson and Bushman, 2001). PC Games show the player to be reliant and since the kid is disregarded while playing the game, they can create narrow minded conduct. A specific report that was done at the Minneapolis-based national foundation for media showed that children can get dependent on Computer Games and display social phobias.The intuitive nature of Computer Games is very unique in relation to latently seeing motion pictures or TV. The games permit players to be dynamic members in the content. The players who can profit by demonstrations of savagery are then ready to continue to the following level (Sherry, 2001). As a negative consequence of playing Computer Games, viciousness in kids has indicated an expansion. â€Å"Anderson and Dill found that guys who were high in hostility and fractiousness, indicated the most grounded relationship between computer game play and forceful conduct (Lillian Bensely and Juliet Van Eenwyk, 2001)†.There a re numerous occurrences of vicious conduct among youngsters who play savage Computer Games around the world (Gunter, 1998). One of the prominent episodes is the Columbine High School slaughter that was brought about by multi year-old Dylan Klebold, and multi year-old Harris Eric. The slaughter occurred on the twentieth of April, 1999, at Columbine High School, situated in Jefferson County. 12 students and an educator were murdered by two understudies. It was later uncovered that the two shooters in the slaughter were visit players of weapon-based battle games.It was additionally noticed that the two shooters used to play Wolfeinstein 3D and Doom, games which are fierce. After the occurrence, numerous paper articles asserted that the key reason for that episode was brutal Computer Games. Another episode happened in April, 2000 when Jose Rabadan, a multi year-old Spaniard, murdered his folks and his sister utilizing a katana blade, guaranteeing that he was Squall Leonhart, the primary character in the computer game titled ‘Final Fantasy V111,’ determined to vindicate. This was an outcome of playing the game excessively and fantasizing about what he found in the computer game (Williams, and Marko, 2005).In 1997, there was the situation of a multi year-old Wilson Noah, who was slaughtered by his companion utilizing a kitchen blade. The mother of the perished guaranteed that Noah was cut in light of the fixation his companion had with the computer game known as Mortal Combat. She affirmed that the kid who executed Noah was fixated on the game, and thought he was one of the characters in the game named ‘Cyrax’. In the game, Cyrax is utilizing a completing move whereby he gets the rival and wounds him in the chest. It was affirmed this was the move that inspired the murdering of that child.There are numerous different episodes that were brought about by the impacts of playing Computer Games. A report that was gathered by the FBI in the year 2006 demonstrated that the playing of Computer Games among youngsters was one of the social attributes connected to acts of mass violence. The report laid out a few factors behind acts of mass violence of which playing savage Computer Games was the most self-evident (Anderson and Bushman, 2001). As per Gentile and Anderson, playing Computer Games builds the forceful conduct of the player, since the demonstrations of savagery are consistently continued during the game (Gentile, and Anderson, 2003).â€Å"Although uplifted physiological excitement (e. g. , pulse, circulatory strain, skin conductance) can be useful in specific circumstances, physiologic

Explain the N.J. state court system entirely be sure to state and Essay

Clarify the N.J. state court framework totally make certain to state and clarify each court that involves the sytem particularly the 2 s - Essay Example They likewise hear choices made by the State Division of tax collection on issues of annual duty, deals expense and business charge. The Superior court is the preliminary court where cases including criminal, common and family law are heard and chosen. They choose every single other case that are not inside the ward of the Municipal and Tax courts. The Appeals Court are separated into two, the Appellate Division of Superior Court and the New Jersey Supreme Court. In the Appellate Division, audits and chooses cases in division of at any rate a few adjudicators without preliminary or additional proof. It surveys and ensure that there were no slip-ups or mistakes in the judgment and choices of the Trial Courts, Tax Courts and State regulatory organizations. The N.J. Preeminent Court is the most noteworthy court in New Jersey and is the state’s court after all other options have run out, administering from the Appellate Division might be advanced here. The New Jersey Constitution restricts its purview in cases including an established inquiry, if an appointed authority in the Appellate Division contradicted, if the death penalty is utilized, or the court allowed accreditation, or if the case includes redistricting (Art VI). Its locale is restricted in hearing interests for lawful issues and simply like the Appellate Division, does exclude preliminary of realities. 2000). Reference Van Dervort, T. R.

Trip to California Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Outing to California - Essay Example nia, he will find that it is extremely various, and this decent variety ranges from its forested beach front areas to its north, the rough mountains in the inside, to the brutality of the desert to its south. Be that as it may, sandwiched between all these is the Central Valley which is the most ripe and agronomically profitable piece of the state. So as to show signs of improvement perspective on California in our movement, we decided to enlist a vehicle when we arrived at the air terminal in Los Angeles. It was while we were driving starting with one spot then onto the next that we came to find exactly how sweeping the expressway arrangement of this state truly is. Due to these expressways, our movements inside the state were made a lot simpler and truth be told, we secured more separation and ventured out to more goals of enthusiasm for only a couple of hours than we would have done in our own state. During this excursion, we were wonderfully astounded to discover how valuable our insight into Spanish truly was, on the grounds that regardless of the way that English is the official language of the state, Spanish is likewise spoken by countless individuals making information on the last extremely helpful (Anderson, 2006). We found that once individuals understood that we could communicate in Spanish, they would rapidly give u s headings to where we needed to go. I accept that it might have been a direct result of the altruism which was because of addressing those individuals in their own language. Some truly critical spots that we visited were the Hollywood image and the Walk of Fame in Los Angeles; the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz in San Francisco; lastly, the urban communities of San Diego and Santa Barbara. Moreover, we saw the desert in southern California as an energizing spot and we went through a few days investigating it. We regularly went through the evenings out of entryways exposed desert talking about the day’s occasions and making arrangements for the coming days. We had a great time in California that it was with the most profound lament when the opportunity arrived for us to leave. We as a whole later came to concede that we had fallen

Peek Over Our Shoulders What Rioters are Reading on September 14, 2017

Peek Over Our Shoulders What Rioters are Reading on September 14, 2017 In this feature at Book Riot, we give you a glimpse of what we are reading this very moment. Here is what the Rioters are reading today (as in literally today). This is what’s on their bedside table (or the floor, work bag, desk, whatevskis). Gird your loinsâ€"this list combined will make your TBR list EXPLODE. We’ve shown you ours, now show us yours; let us know what you’re reading (right this very moment) in the comment section below! Rebecca Hussey Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor: I’m reading this because it’s on the Man Booker longlist. I’m getting close to the end and find it mesmerizing. (ebook) Liberty Hardy Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge (Bloomsbury, Nov. 7): Expanded edition of Eddo-Lodge’s 2014 essay about how to see, acknowledge, and counter racism. (e-galley) Katie McLain Lost Girls: An Unsolved American Mystery by Robert Kolker: I’m in the mood for a good true crime audiobook, and this one so far has been interesting. (Digital audiobook) Jessica Yang The Love Interest by Cale Dietrich: I cant for the life of me remember who recommended this book to me, but when I heard the premiseâ€"two spies (both guys) vying for a girls love, but then theyre in love…with each other! Im finally sitting down to read it, and 10 pages in, its already amazing. (Hardcover) Ashley Holstrom My Lovely Wife in the Psych Ward by Mark Lukach: I’ll just be crying at this for a while, don’t worry. (Hardcover) S.W. Sondheimer The Inhumans: The Origin of the Inhumans by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby: A nascent non-fiction project of my own has me digging around in Inhumans history which is, in point of fact, to a large extent, a dive into Fantastic Four material from the mid-60s. And its…well, its something, including a very definite product of its time. In order to not go stark-raving mad from exposure to institutional misogyny and racism, Im doing a snarky and impolite social media read-along (@dantebrin on IG and @SWSondheimer on Twitter). Anthony Karcz Phasma (Star Wars) by Delilah Dawson: A Star Wars novel written by one of my favorite authors, set in one of my favorite fandoms, focusing on the most underserved character in the new Star Wars trilogy? How could I not read that as soon as it came out? So far its got a nice tinge of the Weird West flavor that Dawson is known for, and having badass female protagonists that know how to take care of themselves is a trend that we need to see a lot more of in all sci-fi. Claire Handscombe Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman: Everyone has been talking about this book in the UK and it’s about time! I need to read it this year to figure out if it deserves a place on my “best of the year” list in December, which I suspect it might. (paperback, original UK version) Emily Martin Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay: At this point, I feel like I’m the last person on earth to read this memoir. I suggested this book for my feminist reading group, and based on what I’ve heard from people in the group thus far, I think it’s going to be a fairly intense discussion. (Hardcover) Kate Scott The Refugees by Viet Thanh Nguyen: This is a short story collection that, as the title indicates, explores the refugee experience. I’m not usually big on short stories but I’m enjoying it so far. It strikes a nice balance between somberness and levity. (Hardcover) Johann Thorsson The Doll-Master and Other Tales of Terror by Joyce Carol Oates: This is a new collection by one of America’s most prolific (and talented) authors. Gritty and superbly written, these stories all are of a psychological thriller variety and are plenty good at that. Great so far, though not for those of a weak disposition. Teresa Preston Elmet by Fiona Mozley: I’m attempting to read all 13 books on the Booker longlist, and this is book number 12. It’s the story of a family that has lived largely separate from society, and there’s some sort of mystery around them. So far, I’m liking the writing, and I’m interested in seeing how it all unfolds. (Paperback) Sarah Nicolas All Rights Reserved by Gregory Scott Katsoulis: A world where every word or gesture is copyrighted and you have to pay for every utterance. This is one of those premises, like Neal Shusterman’s Unwind, that is terrifying and ridiculous, but also weirdly plausible and believable. (audiobook, courtesy of publisher) Karina Glaser The Peculiar Incident on Shady Street by Lindsay Currie (Aladdin, October 10): Seventh grader Tessa Woodward moves to windy Chicago, and the new house is really strange: flickering lights, mysterious drawings appearing out of nowhere, and a crackling noise she can feel in her bones. Is the house trying to tell her something? (galley) Dana Staves H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald: Since I knew I’d be doing a lot of driving last week, I decided to give an audiobook a whirl, and H is for Hawk is just so perfect to usher me into the world of listening to books. Her story of obtaining and training a goshawk is beautiful, brutal, and absolutely full of sensory goodness, and her voice is so, so wonderful. I find myself annoyed whenever I have to turn it off. (audio) Carina Pereira The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas: People are talking so muchâ€"and so wellâ€"about this book that I put it on top of my TBR list. I’ve just started the book but I’m already enthralled, especially after all of the deaths that sparked the #blacklivesmatter movement. (ebook) Katisha Smith Accused (Rosato DiNunzio #1) by Lisa Scottoline: It’s been awhile since I have read a suspense novel. I received a free copy of this book a few months ago, but I just started reading it. I love a good murder mystery, so I’m looking forward to being thrilled. (ebook) Tasha Brandstatter Guardians of the Louvre by Jiro Taniguchi: Borrowed this one from Hoopla immediately after reading Megan’s review in the Best Comics We Read in August post. (ebook) Brandi Bailey   Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente: Back in April, Tor offered a free download of this book, so I started reading it mid-move on my iPhone. I accidentally deleted the file, but I couldn’t get the first couple of chapters out of my head. Valente’s writing is pure magic; plus I’m a sucker for fairy tales, retellings or otherwise. I have been savouring this one since I worked my way through the library hold list as my bus commute read. It’s perfection in my opinion.  (Hardcover, Library Copy) Steph Auteri Pym by Mat Johnson: I very much enjoyed his book Loving Day, a wild and entertaining ride that was also an exploration of racial identity. This looks to be similarly wild, entertaining, and thought-provoking. (Hardcover) Amy Diegelman Phantom Pains by Mishell Baker: The other day I was recommending the first book in this urban fantasy series about a double-amputee with borderline personality disorder and realized the sequel had probably come out! (I’m terrible with release dates.) I went straight to my local bookstore and bought it that day. (Paperback) Rebecca Renner I Am the Beggar of the World: Landays from Contemporary Afghanistan, translated by Eliza Griswold: Working my way through this year’s Read Harder Challenge, I was struggling to find a book of translated poetry on a subject other than love. Lucky for me, my fellow Book Rioter Rachel Manwill came through with this rec. Its beautiful, culturally rich, and socially important. (Hardcover) Margaret Kingsbury Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust: A feminist retelling of any fairy tale will always grab my attention, and this one retells a classicâ€"Snow White. When I went to put this one on my TBR list on Goodreads, I noticed the publisher was hosting a giveaway for it, so I entered and won! Woohoo! I’m almost finished, and it’s sooo good. (ARC) Daisy Johnson Wave Me Goodbye by Jacqueline Wilson: Jacqueline Wilsons a bit of a legend when it comes to British childrens literature and this is her first book set during the Second World War. Im excited to see what she does! (Hardcover) Jaime Herndon In Shock: My Journey from Death to Recovery and the Redemptive Power of Hope by Dr. Rana Awdish: I am tearing through this book because I cant put it down. Its a memoir by a physician who died, lost her unborn baby, and then recovered, albeit on a long and hard path. In the vein of narrative medicine, she examines what its like to be both patient and physician, and what it means to heal and be healed. (ARC) Megan Cavitt American Widow by Alissa Torres and Sungyoon Choi: Torres’s husband, Eddie, started a new job at the World Trade Center on September 10, 2001; the next day, he was gone forever. The seven-months-pregnant Torres was thrown into a labyrinth of workplace-benefits-bureaucracy, government “honors,” and the uniquely unhelpful “help” that people who feel powerless foist upon the grieving. She’s preserved her story with help from the illustrator Sungyoon Choi, who turns Torres’s narrative into a moving graphic novel. (Hardcover) Deepali Agarwal Tell Me a Long, Long Story by Mini Krishnan (Aleph Book Company, India): The long short story is a thing(!), and this anthology struck me as something new, despite having some popular, older Indian authors like Mahasweta Devi and Ismat Chughtai. I am enjoying picking stories from the book at random, and discovering new regional authors from India. Erin McCoy Your Alluring Love by Layla Hagen: Release dates and my personal schedule have prevented me from keeping current with Hagen’s The Bennett Family series this past year. I’m going back and listening to all the books I missed on audiobook, and I’ve finally made it to Nate and Alice’s story! (audiobook) Ashley Bowen Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward: I’m new to Ward’s fiction (though not her memoir and essays) and really enjoying Sing, Unburied, Sing. This is a brutal book full of beautiful language and wonderful meditations on what it means to haunt and be haunted by our personal and national pasts. Also, there’s a lot of vomit in the part that I’m in…It’s not easy to read, by any means, but it’s a book with much to say about family, race, violence, poverty, the American south, and so much more. (hardback) Christina Vortia The Devil In Silver by Victor LaValle: I read LaValle’s latest novel, The Changeling, for The Blerd Book Club’s August book selection, and now I have to read everything this man has written. I recently finished The Ballad of Black Tom, currently in production for a TV series, and now Im listening to this gem, The Devil In Silver, on my library Hoopla account. Set in a mental hospital in Queens, Pepper learns how easily lives are cast away and forgotten when his supposed 72 hour hold is extended. This book is disturbing, humorous, heartbreaking, and illuminating. After this, Ill probably move directly on to another of his books. (Audiobook) Jessica Pryde Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal: this one jumped on my radar immediately after I pulled out an ARC several months ago. But I didnt pick it up and someone else did, and several months went by. Then a bookseller friend recommended it a couple weeks ago and I immediately put it on hold (I take his recs very seriously). It hasnt failed me yet. (Library hardcover) *** What are you reading? Save

Serial Killer John Edward Robinson Analysis - Free Essay Example

Abstract This paper focuses on the serial killings of John Robinson. Robinson was known at the first internet killer or Slavemaster. The paper will begin by analyzing the killer in serval aspects including criminal patterns, methods, means, modus operandi, and victimology. Robinsons criminal spree continued for well over a decade filled with gruesome and disturbing killings. A discussion will also be done to include an explanation for Robinsons actions based on biological, psychological, and sociological influences. Additionally, highlights will be made throughout this paper regarding how intelligence gathering can help in identified such threats to public safety. Serial Killer John Edward Robinson Analysis John Edward Robinson is a lesser known serial killer that is also known as Slavemaster and the first internet serial killer (McClintick, 2013). Serial killers are often deemed maniac or monster. The crimes are often heinous and disturbing. However, society is often fascinated with these stories. The case of Robinson is particularly interesting for a wide array of reasons that will be discussed. He was committed at least eight murders ranging in time of over fifteen years (Kelley 2017). This paper will provide a full analysis of this serial killer and will include crime patterns, methods, means, modus operandi, and victimology. Additionally, a detailed discussion will be completed regarding John Robinsons actions based on biological, psychological, and sociological influences. Discussion Robinson was an experienced con man and an individual with an extensive criminal background (McAuliffe, n.d.). His criminal history includes embezzlement, forgery, thief, and swindler (McClintick, 2013). This is different from a lot of other serial killers since he did have an extensive background. However, neighbors knew him as a successful businessman (McClintick,2013). He was also active in church, a neighborhood activist, and officer of the presidents association (McClintick, 2013). He ultimately was living two lives. Neither his family or friends was aware of his double life. The next section of this paper will focus on an analysis of Robinson as a serial killer. Criminal Analysis While Robinsons, criminal career began with smaller crimes, it developed quickly to include murder. Robinson was particularly meticulous about choosing a victim. Unlike many notorious serial killers who randomly picked their victim, Robinson carefully chose his victims and got to know them (McClintick, 2013). His murders were driven by money and dominance (Mellor, 2014). His modus operandi was fairly consistent. He typically began communication by responding to ads on Fetish/BDSM websites (Mellor, 2014). Additionally, all of his known victims were females and mostly younger. The crimes he committed were very disturbing. One of the murders was a 19-year-old female who had a small baby girl. After he killed her he then sold her baby to his own brother (McAuliffe, n.d.) Additionally, he murdered a disabled teenager and her mother (McAuliffe, n.d.). He also convinced two women to become his sex slaves and was eventually apprehended when another woman accused him of assault and stealing h er sex toys (McAuliffe, n.d.). Robinson met his victims on the internet and lured them to Kansas with offers of employment and sadomasochistic sex (McClintick, 2013). He exploited the victims financially by getting their life savings and retirement accounts, cashing their disability checks, and even selling one of the victims child (McClintick, 2013). His method of killing the women was with a blunt object which was most likely a hammer (McClintick, 2013). The first known victim was Paula Godfrey, who just graduated from high school, and Robinson picked her up from her home after promising to enroll her in a school in Texas (McClintick, 2013). Her family never heard from her again and Robinson was asked about her whereabouts by police and denied any knowledge (McClintick, 2013). A letter was received by family shortly later signed by the victim stating that she was fine and with no other evidence, the police suspended the case (McClintick, 2013). Lisa Stasi was the next victim, who had the infant that was sold, wa s told by Robinson he was going to send her on a trip to Chicago and had her sign four blank sheets of paper. Again, when her family did not hear from her they contacted the police in Overland, which was he same area as Robinson was questioned in the first disappearance (McClintick, 2013). Robinsons probation officer called the police about the Stasi case as well and was advised that they had no evidence of wrongdoing and were not pursuing either case at which point the Officer contacted the FBI (McClintick, 2013). Ultimately the FBI found evidence of many other criminal activities but none connected to the two-missing people (McClintick, 2013). It is important to note the lack of intelligence gathering that was completed. Additional information should have and could have been pursued to try to rule out any foul play concerns. The law enforcement personnel could have made attempts to actually speak to the missing people instead of just dismissing them because of fake letters received in the mail. Had there been a more thorough investigation then the other victims might be alive. Instead, the murders continued for many years later. All in the same fashion with him befriending the victim and then disappearing. When family began looking for them he would use one of the signatures to type a letter and then mail to family. When he was finally caught, the bodies were found in barrels on his property and at a storage building (McAuliffe, n.d.). Biological, Psychological, and Social Factors Serial killers typically kill 10-12 times and the murders occurs over a period of several years (Holmes Holmes 1998). Additionally, they usually maintain a low profile, give the appearance of being social responsible, and live virtually undetected lives for years (Holmes Holmes, 1998). Holmes and Holmes (1998) further discusses that often when killing, the murderer is releasing humiliation in an attempt to regain lost power. It is also suggested that murder is a learned trait where the individual is instigated toward the behavior (Holmes Holmes, 1998). Many factors play a role in the development of a serial killer including biological, psychological, and social factors. It is most likely a combination of these factors that create a serial killer. Some biological aspects of serial killers include things such as hormones or gene influence. While it is difficult to identify these traits in serial killers such as John Robinson, it is plausible that he may have some factors playing a role especially given the fact of his fascination with sexual driven tendencies. Psychological aspects of serial killers are also important to discuss. Psychopathy (also known as sociopathy) is a common aspect of serial killers (Cook, 2011). This means that the person is sane and know right from wrong but lack conscience and empathy (Cook, 2011). While no clear diagnosis exists for Robinson, he exhibits an astonishing number of characteristics that will be briefly discussed. Some characteristics includes superficial charm and good intelligence, absence of delusions or irrational thinking, absence of nervousness, unreliability, untruthfulness, lack of remorse/shame, poor judgement, pathological egocentricity, sex life impersonal and poorly integrated, and failure to follow any life plan (Cook, 2011). Additionally, they have an answer for everything, blame others, show no remorse or guilt, and they say what is expected and what people want to hear (McDermott Belafonte, 2013). He found out what womens desires and dreams were and offered to fulfil those (McDermott Belafonte, 2013). Many of these characteristics are present in Robinson that have been previously discussed. Social factors are external things that influence and shape individuals. It can be family, friends, media, and technology just to name a few. Individuals can learn behaviors from others that trigger such unreasonable behaviors such as serial killings. For example, killings being glamorized in the media may influence a person. In this case perhaps it involved technology. Robinson was known as the first internet killer as he relied on BDSM chat rooms to fulfill his fantasies. The lifestyle he lived with BDSM was violent in nature. Perhaps this website helped encourage and condone such behaviors to the point of escalating his fantasies to the level of murder. Robinson was a psychopathic sexual sadist in which financial gain and dominance was his goal (Mellor,2014). He also had a visible aggressive side and some of his neighbors even noted that he could be prickly and mean when upset (McClintick, 2013). Additionally, Robinson very much liked to control his surroundings and neighbors repo rted him yelling at his wife and kids like a drill sergeant (McClintick, 2013). Conclusion Robinsons killings were calculated and troubling in the fact of how he befriended the women. Intelligence gathering is critical to prevent and end threats and potential threats. In a case as severe as this, it is critical that intelligence gathering be effective as it can be the difference between life and death for the next potential victim. Additionally, an analysis was completed of this serial killer and included crime patterns, methods, means, modus operandi, and victimology. These areas are key elements in intelligence gathering and identifying a suspect. The behavior of a serial killer often leaves many people wondering why and how someone case can exhibit such violent and careless behavior. This paper also evaluated Robinsons behavior based on biological, psychological, and sociological influences. References Cook, B. I. (2011). Serial Killer: Evolution, Antisocial Personality Disorder and Psychological Interventions. Adlerian Counseling and Psychotherapy. Retrieved from https://alfredadler.edu/sites/default/files/Cook%20MP%202011.pdf Holmes, R. M. Holmes S. T. (1998). Contemporary Perspectives on Serial Murder. Thousand Oaks California: Sage Publications. Kelley, L. (2017). The Internets First Serial Killer The Slavemaster. Rebel Circus. Retrieved from https://www.rebelcircus.com/blog/internets-first-serial-killer-the-slavemaster/3/ McAuliffe, C. (n.d.). 14 Disturbing Facts about the First Internet Serial Killer, John Edward Robinson. Ranker. Retrieved from https://www.ranker.com/list/facts-about-john-edward-robinson-first-internet-killer/cat-mcauliffe McClintick, D. (2013). Serial Killer J.R. Robinsons Sinister Alter Ego. Vanity Fair. Retrieved from https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2001/06/jr-robinson-serial-killer McDermott, M. Belafonte, H. (2013). Booktalking Anyone you Want me to Be: A true story of sex and death on the internet. New York Public Library. Retrieved from https://www.nypl.org/blog/2013/10/18/booktalking-anyone-you-want-me-be-john-douglas Mellor, L. (2014). John Edward Robinson: The Spiders Web. Serial Killer Quarterly. Retrieved from https://www.serialkillerquarterly.com/skq-review/welcome

Marketing Analysis International Marketing - 2073 Words

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When to See a Doctor for Bursitis

Bursitis is defined as the irritation or inflammation of a bursa (fluid-filled sacs attached to joints). You can often effectively treat bursitis at home. However, in some cases, you may want or need to treat bursitis with some techniques not available at home and require a visit to a doctor. If you have bursitis and you experience a warm swelling, a fever or become sick you may have septic bursitis and should seek medical attention. Septic bursitis needs antibiotic medication to treat it. In the case of non-septic bursitis you should consider seeing a doctor: If the pain becomes severe or is getting progressively worseIf your range of motion is being hampered and the swelling and stiffness is getting worseIf your strength is affectedIf the injury is becoming chronic and never fully alleviates, or commonly reoccursIf methods for preventing bursitis have not proven sufficientIf home treatments are not effectiveIf you can not change your habits or the repetitive stress causing your bursitis is unavoidable What to Expect From Your Doctor If you are seeking medical help for your bursitis then your general practitioner is probably your first stop. Your doctor will need a history of your condition including the symptoms and activities that trigger or worsen the symptoms. Additionally, you should provide your doctor with information about any treatments, over the counter medication or home remedies you have tried and how effective they have been. Your doctor will perform a basic physical examination of the affected area to check for a swollen bursa. Diagnostic imagery is usually not required  but is some difficult cases it may be requested. Imagery, such as an X-ray or MRI, can help fill out a comprehensive diagnosis. Once diagnosed your doctor may prescribe treatment or refer you to a specialist. In some cases, your doctor may suggest draining the bursa to reduce the swelling. This can usually be done during the same visit. Your doctor will simply insert a syringe into the bursa and remove some of the fluid. This can provide immediate relief but does not treat the cause of bursitis.​ When referring you to a specialist your general practitioner will often suggest a physical therapist or occupational therapist. These therapists will develop a treatment regimen of exercise and/or behavioral therapy that should change or remove the repetitive stress that is causing bursitis as well as strengthening the area so it is more robust. What to Bring to Your Doctor Being prepared with a thorough history of your symptoms can help your doctor diagnose your bursitis. Organize your information to help your doctor get through all the pertinent parts in the time usually allotted for an appointment. The information you should have on hand includes: What your symptoms areWhen your symptoms first presented or startedHow severe your symptoms areIf your symptoms come and go or are persistentWhat activities trigger or worsen your symptomsWhat kind of repetitive stress concerning the area of your bursitis you regularly encounterAny candidate causes of bursitis you have identifiedAny injuries within the past 6 months to the area of your bursitisOther medical conditions you currently suffer from or have had in the past, including surgeries When gathering your information, it is beneficial to journal your symptoms. Write down all your symptoms with notes about duration and severity. Use a Visual Analog Pain Scale to track the pain. Make notes of the activities that may contribute to bursitis and what effect they seem to have. Furthermore, write down any treatments and if they have a positive or negative effect. Last, but not least, write down any questions you have for your doctor before your appointment. Patients often get nervous or forget their questions when face to face with their doctor. Write down your questions and make sure you get satisfactory answers before you leave. Dont forget, your doctor is there to help you and you are paying them for that help, so make sure to get your moneys worth.

Archetypes Term Paper - 3125 Words

Archetypes are constant throughout all times and cultures. You find them in all of the most satisfying literature. An understanding of these forces is one of the most powerful elements in the storyteller’s toolbox. When you grasp the function of the archetype a character expresses, you will know his or her purpose in the story. The trickster embodies the use of mischief and the desire for change. â€Å"He/she cuts big egos down to size and brings heroes and readers down to earth† Vogler says. A trickster brings change by drawing attention to the imbalance or absurdity of a stagnant situation and often provokes laughter. In Shakespeare’s play, Othello, one of the earliest scenes where we see Iago’s power of being a trickster†¦show more content†¦In this scene Iago makes Cassio get drunk and has manipulated Cassio to get into a fight. Othello hears all the noise and comes down from his chambers to see what is going on. 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North American And Indian Societies - 927 Words

North American and Indian societies may not have a lot of things in common, but they do have similarities in how their population is separated. India has the caste system and North America has the social class or class system to divide their population. These two systems are similar but they also have their differences. According to, Sociology: The Essentials, caste system is defined as a system of stratification (characterized by low social mobility) in which one’s place in the stratification system is determined by birth. This is also known as an ascribed status. â€Å"This system in found in the traditional Hindu population of India† (Haviland 256). Although it is found in other parts of the world, India is the most well known. The caste system in India is divided into five different levels. â€Å"Each caste possesses a different dharma, which specified spate duties and abilities depending on the caste into which you were born. 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Black House Chapter Fifteen Free Essays

string(52) " a round coffee table \?\? has also been abandoned\." 15 BY EVENING, the temperature has dropped fifteen degrees as a minor cold front pushes through our little patch of the Coulee Country. There are no thunderstorms, but as the sky tinges toward violet, the fog arrives. It’s born out of the river and rises up the inclined ramp of Chase Street, first obscuring the gutters, then the sidewalks, then blurring the buildings themselves. We will write a custom essay sample on Black House Chapter Fifteen or any similar topic only for you Order Now It cannot completely hide them, as the fogs of spring and winter sometimes do, but the blurring is somehow worse: it steals colors and softens shapes. The fog makes the ordinary look alien. And there’s the smell, the ancient, seagully odor that works deep into your nose and awakens the back part of your brain, the part that is perfectly capable of believing in monsters when the sight lines shorten and the heart is uneasy. On Sumner Street, Debbi Anderson is still working dispatch. Arnold â€Å"the Mad Hungarian† Hrabowski has been sent home without his badge in fact, suspended and feels he must ask his wife a few pointed questions (his belief that he already knows the answers makes him even more heartsick). Debbi is now standing at the window, a cup of coffee in her hand and a puckery little frown on her face. â€Å"Don’t like this,† she says to Bobby Dulac, who is glumly and silently writing reports. â€Å"It reminds me of the Hammer pictures I used to watch on TV back when I was in junior high.† â€Å"Hammer pictures?† Bobby asks, looking up. â€Å"Horror pictures,† she says, looking out into the deepening fog. â€Å"A lot of them were about Dracula. Also Jack the Ripper.† â€Å"I don’t want to hear nothing about Jack the Ripper,† Bobby says. â€Å"You mind me, Debster.† And resumes writing. In the parking lot of the 7-Eleven, Mr. Rajan Patel stands beside his telephone (still crisscrossed by yellow police tape, and when it will be all right again for using, this Mr. Patel could not be telling us). He looks toward downtown, which now seems to rise from a vast bowl of cream. The buildings on Chase Street descend into this bowl. Those at Chase’s lowest point are visible only from the second story up. â€Å"If he is down there,† Mr. Patel says softly, and to no one but himself, â€Å"tonight he will be doing whatever he wants.† He crosses his arms over his chest and shivers. Dale Gilbertson is at home, for a wonder. He plans to have a sit-down dinner with his wife and child even if the world ends because of it. He comes out of his den (where he has spent twenty minutes talking with WSP officer Jeff Black, a conversation in which he has had to exercise all his discipline to keep from shouting), and sees his wife standing at the window and looking out. Her posture is almost exactly the same as Debbi Anderson’s, only she’s got a glass of wine in her hand instead of a cup of coffee. The puckery little frown is identical. â€Å"River fog,† Sarah says dismally. â€Å"Isn’t that ducky. If he’s out there â€Å" Dale points at her. â€Å"Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.† But he knows that neither of them can help thinking about it. The streets of French Landing the foggy streets of French Landing will be deserted right now: no one shopping in the stores, no one idling along the sidewalks, no one in the parks. Especially no children. The parents will be keeping them in. Even on Nailhouse Row, where good parenting is the exception rather than the rule, the parents will be keeping their kids inside. â€Å"I won’t say it,† she allows. â€Å"That much I can do.† â€Å"What’s for dinner?† â€Å"How does chicken pot pie sound?† Ordinarily such a hot dish on a July evening would strike him as an awful choice, but tonight, with the fog coming in, it sounds like just the thing. He steps up behind her, gives her a brief squeeze, and says, â€Å"Great. And earlier would be better.† She turns, disappointed. â€Å"Going back in?† â€Å"I shouldn’t have to, not with Brown and Black rolling the ball â€Å" â€Å"Those pricks,† she says. â€Å"I never liked them.† Dale smiles. He knows that the former Sarah Asbury has never cared much for the way he earns his living, and this makes her furious loyalty all the more touching. And tonight it feels vital, as well. It’s been the most painful day of his career in law enforcement, ending with the suspension of Arnold Hrabowski. Arnie, Dale knows, believes he will be back on duty before long. And the shitty truth is that Arnie may be right. Based on the way things are going, Dale may need even such an exquisite example of ineptitude as the Mad Hungarian. â€Å"Anyway, I shouldn’t have to go back in, but . . .† â€Å"You have a feeling.† â€Å"I do.† â€Å"Good or bad?† She has come to respect her husband’s intuitions, not in the least because of Dale’s intense desire to see Jack Sawyer settled close enough to reach with seven keystrokes instead of eleven. Tonight that looks to her like pardon the pun a pretty good call. â€Å"Both,† Dale says, and then, without explaining or giving Sarah a chance to question further: â€Å"Where’s Dave?† â€Å"At the kitchen table with his crayons.† At six, young David Gilbertson is enjoying a violent love affair with Crayolas, has gone through two boxes since school let out. Dale and Sarah’s strong hope, expressed even to each other only at night, lying side by side before sleep, is that they may be raising a real artist. The next Norman Rockwell, Sarah said once. Dale who helped Jack Sawyer hang his strange and wonderful pictures has higher hopes for the boy. Too high to express, really, even in the marriage bed after the lights are out. With his own glass of wine in hand, Dale ambles out to the kitchen. â€Å"What you drawing, Dave? What â€Å" He stops. The crayons have been abandoned. The picture a half-finished drawing of what might be either a flying saucer or perhaps just a round coffee table has also been abandoned. You read "Black House Chapter Fifteen" in category "Essay examples" The back door is open. Looking out at the whiteness that hides David’s swing and jungle gym, Dale feels a terrible fear leap up his throat, choking him. All at once he can smell Irma Freneau again, that terrible smell of raw spoiled meat. Any sense that his family lives in a protected, magic circle it may happen to others, but it can never, never happen to us is gone now. What has replaced it is stark certainty: David is gone. The Fisherman has enticed him out of the house and spirited him away into the fog. Dale can see the grin on the Fisherman’s face. He can see the gloved hand it’s yellow covering his son’s mouth but not the bulging, terrified child’s eyes. Into the fog and out of the known world. David. He moves forward across the kitchen on legs that feel boneless as well as nerveless. He puts his wineglass down on the table, the stem landing a-tilt on a crayon, not noticing when it spills and covers David’s half-finished drawing with something that looks horribly like venous blood. He’s out the door, and although he means to yell, his voice comes out in a weak and almost strengthless sigh: â€Å"David? . . . Dave?† For a moment that seems to last a thousand years, there is nothing. Then he hears the soft thud of running feet on damp grass. Blue jeans and a red-striped rugby shirt materialize out of the thickening soup. A moment later he sees his son’s dear, grinning face and mop of yellow hair. â€Å"Dad! Daddy! I was swinging in the fog! It was like being in a cloud!† Dale snatches him up. There is a bad, blinding impulse to slap the kid across the face, to hurt him for scaring his father so. It passes as quickly as it came. He kisses David instead. â€Å"I know,† he says. â€Å"That must have been fun, but it’s time to come in now.† â€Å"Why, Daddy?† â€Å"Because sometimes little boys get lost in the fog,† he says, looking out into the white yard. He can see the patio table, but it is only a ghost; he wouldn’t know what he was looking at if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times. He kisses his son again. â€Å"Sometimes little boys get lost,† he repeats. Oh, we could check in with any number of friends, both old and new. Jack and Fred Marshall have returned from Arden (neither suggested stopping at Gertie’s Kitchen in Centralia when they passed it), and both are now in their otherwise deserted houses. For the balance of the ride back to French Landing, Fred never once let go of his son’s baseball cap, and he has a hand on it even now, as he eats a microwaved TV dinner in his too empty living room and watches Action News Five. Tonight’s news is mostly about Irma Freneau, of course. Fred picks up the remote when they switch from shaky-cam footage of Ed’s Eats to a taped report from the Holiday Trailer Park. The cameraman has focused on one shabby trailer in particular. A few flowers, brave but doomed, straggle in the dust by the stoop, which consists of three boards laid across two cement blocks. â€Å"Here, on the outskirts of French Landing, Irma Freneau’s grieving mother is in seclusion,† says the on-scene correspondent. â€Å"One can only imagine this single mother’s feelings tonight.† The reporter is prettier than Wendell Green but exudes much the same aura of glittering, unhealthy excitement. Fred hits the OFF button on the remote and growls, â€Å"Why can’t you leave the poor woman alone?† He looks down at his chipped beef on toast, but he has lost his appetite. Slowly, he raises Tyler’s hat and puts it on his own head. It doesn’t fit, and Fred for a moment thinks of letting out the plastic band at the back. The idea shocks him. Suppose that was all it took to kill his son? That one simple, deadly modification? The idea strikes him as both ridiculous and utterly inarguable. He supposes that if this keeps up, he’ll soon be as mad as his wife . . . or Sawyer. Trusting Sawyer is as crazy as thinking he might kill his son by changing the size of the boy’s hat . . . and yet he believes in both things. He picks up his fork and begins to eat again, Ty’s Brewers cap sitting on his head like Spanky’s beanie in an old Our Gang one-reeler. Beezer St. Pierre is sitting on his sofa in his underwear, a book open on his lap (it is, in fact, a book of William Blake’s poems) but unread. Bear Girl’s asleep in the other room, and he’s fighting the urge to bop on down to the Sand Bar and score some crank, his old vice, untouched for going on five years now. Since Amy died, he fights this urge every single day, and lately he wins only by reminding himself that he won’t be able to find the Fisherman and punish him as he deserves to be punished if he’s fucked up on devil dust. Henry Leyden is in his studio with a huge pair of Akai headphones on his head, listening to Warren Vach? ¦, John Bunch, and Phil Flanigan dreamboat their way through â€Å"I Remember April.† He can smell the fog even through the walls, and to him it smells like the air at Ed’s Eats. Like bad death, in other words. He’s wondering how Jack made out in good old Ward D at French County Lutheran. And he’s thinking about his wife, who lately (especially since the record hop at Maxton’s, although he doesn’t consciously realize this) seems closer than ever. And unquiet. Yes indeed, all sorts of friends are available for our inspection, but at least one seems to have dropped out of sight. Charles Burnside isn’t in the common room at Maxton’s (where an old episode of Family Ties is currently running on the ancient color TV bolted to the wall), nor in the dining hall, where snacks are available in the early evening, nor in his own room, where the sheets are currently clean (but where the air still smells vaguely of old shit). What about the bathroom? Nope. Thorvald Thorvaldson has stopped in to have a pee and a handwash, but otherwise the place is empty. One oddity: there’s a fuzzy slipper lying on its side in one of the stalls. With its bright black and yellow stripes, it looks like the corpse of a huge dead bumblebee. And yes, it’s the stall second from the left. Burny’s favorite. Should we look for him? Maybe we should. Maybe not knowing exactly where that rascal is makes us uneasy. Let us slip through the fog, then, silent as a dream, down to lower Chase Street. Here is the Nelson Hotel, its ground floor now submerged in river fog, the ocher stripe marking high water of that ancient flood no more than a whisper of color in the fading light. On one side of it is Wisconsin Shoe, now closed for the day. On the other is Lucky’s Tavern, where an old woman with bowlegs (her name is Bertha Van Dusen, if you care) is currently bent over with her hands planted on her large knees, yarking a bellyful of Kingsland Old-Time Lager into the gutter. She makes sounds like a bad driver grinding a manual transmission. In the doorway of the Nelson Hotel itself sits a patient old mongrel, who will wait until Bertha has gone back into the tavern, then slink over to eat the half-digested cocktail franks floating in the beer. From Lucky’s comes the tired, twanging voi ce of the late Dick Curless, Ole Country One-Eye, singing about those Hainesville Woods, where there’s a tombstone every mile. The dog gives a single disinterested growl as we pass him and slip into the Nelson’s lobby, where moth-eaten heads a wolf, a bear, an elk, and an ancient half-bald bison with a single glass eye look at empty sofas, empty chairs, the elevator that hasn’t worked since 1994 or so, and the empty registration desk. (Morty Fine, the clerk, is in the office with his feet propped up on an empty file-cabinet drawer, reading People and picking his nose.) The lobby of the Nelson Hotel always smells of the river it’s in the pores of the place but this evening the smell is heavier than usual. It’s a smell that makes us think of bad ideas, blown investments, forged checks, deteriorating health, stolen office supplies, unpaid alimony, empty promises, skin tumors, lost ambition, abandoned sample cases filled with cheap novelties, dead hope, dead skin, and fallen arches. This is the kind of place you don’t come to unless you’ve been here before and all yo ur other options are pretty much foreclosed. It’s a place where men who left their families two decades before now lie on narrow beds with pee-stained mattresses, coughing and smoking cigarettes. The scuzzy old lounge (where scuzzy old Hoover Dalrymple once held court and knocked heads most every Friday and Saturday night) has been closed by unanimous vote of the town council since early June, when Dale Gilbertson scandalized the local political elite by showing them a video of three traveling strippers who billed themselves as the Anal University Trio, performing a synchronized cucumber routine on the tiny stage (FLPD cameraman: Officer Tom Lund, let’s give him a hand), but the Nelson’s residents still have only to go next door to get a beer; it’s convenient. You pay by the week at the Nelson. You can keep a hot plate in your room, but only by permission and after the cord has been inspected. You can die on a fixed income at the Nelson, and the last soun d you hear could well be the creaking of bedsprings over your head as some other helpless old loser jacks off. Let us rise up the first flight, past the old canvas firehose in its glass box. Turn right at the second-floor landing (past the pay phone with its yellowing OUT OF ORDER sign) and continue to rise. When we reach the third floor, the smell of river fog is joined by the smell of chicken soup warming on someone’s hot plate (the cord duly approved either by Morty Fine or George Smith, the day manager). The smell is coming from 307. If we slip through the keyhole (there have never been keycards at the Nelson and never will be), we’ll be in the presence of Andrew Railsback, seventy, balding, scrawny, good-humored. He once sold vacuum cleaners for Electrolux and appliances for Sylvania, but those days are behind him now. These are his golden years. A candidate for Maxton’s, we might think, but Andy Railsback knows that place, and places like it. Not for him, thanks. He’s sociable enough, but he doesn’t want people telling him when to go to bed, when to get up, and when he can have a little nip of Early Times. He has friends in Maxton’s, visits them often, and has from time to time met the sparkling, shallow, predatory eye of our pal Chipper. He has thought on more than one such occasion that Mr. Maxton looks like the sort of fellow who would happily turn the corpses of his graduates into soap if he thought he could turn a buck on it. No, for Andy Railsback, the third floor of the Nelson Hotel is good enough. He has his hot plate; he has his bottle of hooch; he’s got four packs of Bicycles and plays big-picture solitaire on nights when the sandman loses his way. This evening he has made three Lipton Cup-A-Soups, thinking he’ll invite Irving Throneberry in for a bowl and a chat. Maybe afterward they’ll go next door to Lucky’s and grab a beer. He checks the soup, sees it has attained a nice simmer, sniffs the fragrant steam, and nods. He also has saltines, which go well with soup. He leaves the room to make his way upstairs and knock on Irv’s door, but what he sees in the hallway stops him cold. It’s an old man in a shapeless blue robe, walking away from him with suspicious quickness. Beneath the hem of the robe, the stranger’s legs are as white as a carp’s belly and marked with blue snarls of varicose veins. On his left foot is a fuzzy black-and-yellow slipper. His right foot is bare. Although our new friend can’t tell for sure not with the guy’s back to him he doesn’t look like anyone Andy knows. Also, he’s trying doorknobs as he wends his way along the main third-floor hall. He gives each one a single hard, quick shake. Like a turnkey. Or a thief. A fucking thief. Yeah. Although the man is obviously old older than Andy, it looks like and dressed as if for bed, the idea of thievery resonates in Andy’s mind with queer certainty. Even the one bare foot, arguing that the fellow probably didn’t come in off the street, has no power over this strong intuition. Andy opens his mouth to call out something like Can I help you? or Looking for someone? and then changes his mind. He just has this feeling about the guy. It has to do with the fleet way the stranger scurries along as he tries the knobs, but that’s not all of it. Not all of it by any means. It’s a feeling of darkness and danger. There are pockets in the geezer’s robe, Andy can see them, and there might be a weapon in one of them. Thieves don’t always have weapons, but . . . The old guy turns the corner and is gone. Andy stands where he is, considering. If he had a phone in his room, he might call downstairs and alert Morty Fine, but he doesn’t. So, what to do? After a brief interior debate, he tiptoes down the hall to the corner and peeps around. Here is a cul-de-sac with three doors: 312, 313, and, at the very end, 314, the only room in that little appendix which is currently occupied. The man in 314 has been there since the spring, but almost all Andy knows about him is his name: George Potter. Andy has asked both Irv and Hoover Dalrymple about Potter, but Hoover doesn’t know jack-shit and Irv has learned only a little more. â€Å"You must,† Andy objected this conversation took place in late May or early June, around the time the Buckhead Lounge downstairs went dark. â€Å"I seen you in Lucky’s with him, havin’ a beer.† Irv had lifted one bushy eyebrow in that cynical way of his. â€Å"Seen me havin’ a beer with him. What are you?† he’d rasped. â€Å"My fuckin’ wife?† â€Å"I’m just saying. You drink a beer with a man, you have a little conversation â€Å" â€Å"Usually, maybe. Not with him. I sat down, bought a pitcher, and mostly got the dubious pleasure of listenin’ to myself think. I say, ‘What do you think about the Brewers this year?’ and he says, ‘They’ll suck, same as last year. I can get the Cubs at night on my rah-dio ‘ â€Å" â€Å"That the way he said it? Rah-dio?† â€Å"Well, it ain’t the way I say it, is it? You ever heard me say rah-dio? I say radio, same as any normal person. You want to hear this or not?† â€Å"Don’t sound like there’s much to hear.† â€Å"You got that right, buddy. He says, ‘I can get the Cubs at night on my rah-dio, and that’s enough for me. I always went to Wrigley with my dad when I was a kid.’ So I found out he was from Chi, but otherwise, bupkes.† The first thought to pop into Andy’s mind upon glimpsing the fucking thief in the third-floor corridor had been Potter, but Mr. George I-Keep-to-Myself Potter is a tall drink of water, maybe six-four, still with a pretty good head of salt-and-pepper hair. Mr. One-Slipper was shorter than that, hunched over like a toad. (A poison toad, at that is the thought that immediately rises in Andy’s mind.) He’s in there, Andy thinks. Fucking thief’s in Potter’s room, maybe going through Potter’s drawers, looking for a little stash. Fifty or sixty rolled up in the toe of a sock, like I used to do. Or stealing Potter’s radio. His fucking rah-dio. Well, and what was that to him? You passed Potter in the hallway, gave him a civil good morning or good afternoon, and what you got back was an uncivil grunt. Bupkes, in other words. You saw him in Lucky’s, he was drinking alone, far side of the jukebox. Andy guessed you could sit down with him and he’d split a pitcher with you Irv’s little tte-? ¤-tte with the man proved that much but what good was that without a little chin-jaw to go along with it? Why should he, Andrew Railsback, risk the wrath of some poison toad in a bathrobe for the sake of an old grump who wouldn’t give you a yes, no, or maybe? Well . . . Because this is his home, cheesy as it might be, that’s why. Because when you saw some crazy old one-slipper fuck in search of loose cash or the easily lifted rah-dio, you didn’t just turn your back and shuffle away. Because the bad feeling he got from the scurrying old elf (the bad vibe, his grandchildren would have said) was probably nothing but a case of the chickenshits. Because Suddenly Andy Railsback has an intuition that, while not a direct hit, is at least adjacent to the truth. Suppose it is a guy from off the street? Suppose it’s one of the old guys from Maxton Elder Care? It’s not that far away, and he knows for a fact that from time to time an old feller (or old gal) will get mixed up in his (or her) head and wander off the reservation. Under ordinary circumstances that person would be spotted and hauled back long before getting this far downtown kind of hard to miss on the street in an institutional robe and single slipper but this evening the fog has come in and the streets are all but deserted. Look at you, Andy berates himself. Scared half to death of a feller that’s probably got ten years on you and peanut butter for brains. Wandered in here past the empty desk not a chance in the goddamn world Fine’s out front; he’ll be in back reading a magazine or a stroke book and now he’s looking for his room back at Maxton’s, trying every knob on the goddamn corridor, no more idea of where he is than a squirrel on a freeway ramp. Potter’s probably having a beer next door (this, at least, turns out to be true) and left his door unlocked (this, we may be assured, is not). And although he’s still frightened, Andy comes all the way around the corner and walks slowly toward the open door. His heart is beating fast, because half his mind is still convinced the old man is maybe dangerous. There was, after all, that bad feeling he got just from looking at the stranger’s back But he goes. God help him, he does. â€Å"Mister?† he calls when he reaches the open door. â€Å"Hey, mister, I think you got the wrong room. That’s Mr. Potter’s room. Don’t you â€Å" He stops. No sense talking, because the room is empty. How is that possible? Andy steps back and tries the knobs of 312 and 313. Both locked up tight, as he knew they would be. With that ascertained, he steps into George Potter’s room and has a good look around curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back. Potter’s digs are a little larger than his, but otherwise not much different: it’s a box with a high ceiling (they made places a man could stand up in back in the old days, you had to say that much for them). The single bed is sagging in the middle but neatly made. On the night table is a bottle of pills (these turn out to be an anti-depressant called Zoloft) and a single framed picture of a woman. Andy thinks she took a pretty good whopping with the ugly stick, but Potter must see her differently. He has, after all, put the picture in a place where it’s the first thing he looks at in the morning and the last thing he sees at night. â€Å"Potter?† Andy asks. â€Å"Anyone? Hello?† He is suddenly overcome with a sense of someone standing behind him and whirls around, lips drawn back from his dentures in a grinning snarl that is half a cringe. One hand comes up to shield his face from the blow he is suddenly certain will fall . . . only there’s no one there. Is he lurking behind the corner at the end of this short addendum to the main corridor? No. Andy saw the stranger go scurrying around that corner. No way he could have gotten behind him again . . . unless he crawled along the ceiling like some kind of fly . . . Andy looks up there, knowing he’s being absurd, giving in to the whim-whams big time, but there’s no one here to see him, so what the hey? And nothing for him to see overhead, either. Just an ordinary tin ceiling, now yellowed by age and decades of cigar and cigarette smoke. The radio oh, excuse me all to hell, rah-dio is sitting on the win-dowsill, unmolested. Damn fine one, too, a Bose, the kind Paul Harvey always talks about on his noon show. Beyond it, on the other side of the dirty glass, is the fire escape. Ah-hah! Andy thinks, and hurries across to the window. One look at the turned thumb lock and his triumphant expression fades. He peers out just the same, and sees a short stretch of wet black iron descending into the fog. No blue robe, no scaly bald pate. Of course not. The knob shaker didn’t go out that way unless he had some magic trick to move the window’s inside thumb lock back into place once he was on the fire escape landing. Andy turns, stands where he is a moment, thinking, then drops to his knees and looks under the bed. What he sees is an old tin ashtray with an unopened pack of Pall Malls and a Kingsland Old-Time Lager disposable lighter in it. Nothing else except dust kittens. He puts his hand on the coverlet preparatory to standing up, and his eyes fix on the closet door. It’s standing ajar. â€Å"There,† Andy breathes, almost too low for his own ears to hear. He gets up and crosses to the closet door. The fog may or may not come in on little cat feet, as Carl Sandburg said, but that is certainly how Andy Railsback moves across George Potter’s room. His heart is beating hard again, hard enough to start the prominent vein in the center of his forehead pulsing. The man he saw is in the closet. Logic demands it. Intuition screams it. And if the doorknob shaker’s just a confused old soul who wandered into the Nelson Hotel out of the fog, why hasn’t he spoken to Andy? Why has he concealed himself ? Because he may be old but he’s not confused, that’s why. No more confused than Andy is himself. The doorknob shaker’s a fucking thief, and he’s in the closet. He’s maybe holding a knife that he has taken from the pocket of his tatty old robe. Maybe a coat hanger that he’s unwound and turned into a weapon. Maybe he’s just standing there in the dark, eyes wide, fingers hooked into cl aws. Andy no longer cares. You can scare him, you bet he’s a retired salesman, not Superman but if you load enough tension on top of fright you turn it into anger, same as enough pressure turns coal into a diamond. And right now Andy is more pissed off than scared. He closes his fingers around the cool glass knob of the closet door. He squeezes down on it. He takes one breath . . . a second . . . steeling himself, getting ready . . . psyching himself up, the grandkids would say . . . one more breath, just for good luck, and . . . With a low, stressful sound half growl and half howl Andy yanks the closet door wide, setting off a chatter of hangers. He crouches, hands up in fists, looking like some ancient sparring partner from the Gym Time Forgot. â€Å"Come outta there, you fucking â€Å" No one there. Four shirts, one jacket, two ties, and three pairs of pants hanging like dead skin. A battered old suitcase that looks as if it has been kicked through every Greyhound Bus terminal in North America. Nothing else. Not a goddamn th But there is. There’s something on the floor beneath the shirts. Several somethings. Almost half a dozen somethings. At first Andy Rails-back either doesn’t understand what he’s seeing or doesn’t want to understand. Then it gets through to him, imprints itself on his mind and memory like a hoofprint, and he tries to scream. He can’t. He tries again and nothing comes out but a rusty wheeze from lungs that feel no larger than old prune skins. He tries to turn around and can’t do that, either. He is sure George Potter is coming, and if Potter finds him here, Andy’s life will end. He has seen something George Potter can never allow him to talk about. But he can’t turn. Can’t scream. Can’t take his eyes from the secret in George Potter’s closet. Can’t move. Because of the fog, nearly full dark has arrived in French Landing unnaturally early; it’s barely six-thirty. The blurry yellow lights of Maxton Elder Care look like the lights of a cruise ship lying becalmed at sea. In Daisy wing, home of the wonderful Alice Weathers and the far less wonderful Charles Burnside, Pete Wexler and Butch Yerxa have both gone home for the day. A broad-shouldered, peroxide blonde named Vera Hutchinson is now on the desk. In front of her is a book entitled E-Z Minute Crosswords. She is currently puzzling over 6 Across: Garfield, for example. Six letters, first is F, third is L, sixth is E. She hates these tricky ones. There’s the swoosh of a bathroom door opening. She looks up and sees Charles Burnside come shuffling out of the men’s in his blue robe and a pair of yellow-and-black striped slippers that look like great fuzzy bumblebees. She recognizes them at once. â€Å"Charlie?† she asks, putting her pencil in her crossword book and closing it. Charlie just goes shuffling along, jaw hanging down, a long runner of drool also hanging down. But he has an unpleasant half grin on his face that Vera doesn’t care for. This one may have lost most of his marbles, but the few left in his head are mean marbles. Sometimes she knows that Charlie Burnside genuinely doesn’t hear her when she speaks (or doesn’t understand her), but she’s positive that sometimes he just pretends not to understand. She has an idea this is one of the latter times. â€Å"Charlie, what are you doing wearing Elmer’s bee slippers? You know his great-granddaughter gave those to him.† The old man Burny to us, Charlie to Vera just goes shuffling along, in a direction that will eventually take him back to D18. Assuming he stays on course, that is. â€Å"Charlie, stop.† Charlie stops. He stands at the head of Daisy’s corridor like a machine that has been turned off. His jaw hangs. The string of drool snaps, and all at once there’s a little wet spot on the linoleum beside one of those absurd but amusing slippers. Vera gets up, goes to him, kneels down before him. If she knew what we know, she’d probably be a lot less willing to put her defenseless white neck within reach of those hanging hands, which are twisted by arthritis but still powerful. But of course she does not. She grasps the left bee slipper. â€Å"Lift,† she says. Charles Burnside lifts his right foot. â€Å"Oh, quit being such a turkey,† she says. â€Å"Other one.† Burny lifts his left foot a little, just enough for her to get the slipper off. â€Å"Now the right one.† Unseen by Vera, who is looking at his feet, Burny pulls his penis from the fly of his loose pajama pants and pretends to piss on Vera’s bowed head. His grin widens. At the same time, he lifts his right foot and she removes the other slipper. When she looks back up, Burny’s wrinkled old tool is back where it belongs. He considered baptizing her, he really did, but he has created almost enough mischief for one evening. One more little chore and he’ll be off to the land of dreamy dreams. He’s an old monster now. He needs his rest. â€Å"All right,† Vera says. â€Å"Want to tell me why one of these is dirtier than the other?† No answer. She hasn’t really expected one. â€Å"Okay, beautiful. Back to your room or down to the common room, if you want. There’s microwave popcorn and Jell-O pops tonight, I think. They’re showing The Sound of Music. I’ll see that these slippers get back to where they belong, and you taking them will be our little secret. Take them again and I’ll have to report you, though. Capisce?† Burny just stands there, vacant . . . but with that nasty little grin lifting his wrinkled old chops. And that light in his eyes. He capisces, all right. â€Å"Go on,† Vera says. â€Å"And you better not have dropped a load on the floor in there, you old buzzard.† Again she expects no reply, but this time she gets one. Burny’s voice is low but perfectly clear. â€Å"Keep a civil tongue, you fat bitch, or I’ll eat it right out of your head.† She recoils as if slapped. Burny stands there with his hands dangling and that little grin on his face. â€Å"Get out of here,† she says. â€Å"Or I really will report you.† And a great lot of good that would do. Charlie is one of Maxton’s cash cows, and Vera knows it. Charlie recommences his slow walk (Pete Wexler has dubbed this particular gait the Old Fucks’ Shuffle), now in his bare feet. Then he turns back. The bleary lamps of his eyes regard her. â€Å"The word you’re looking for is feline. Garfield’s a feline. Got it? Stupid cow.† With that he continues his trip down the corridor. Vera stands where she is, looking at him with her own jaw hanging. She has forgotten all about her crossword puzzle. In his room, Burny lies down on his bed and slips his hands into the small of his back. From there down he aches like a bugger. Later he will buzz for the fat old bitch, get her to bring him an ibuprofen. For now, though, he has to stay sharp. One more little trick still to do. â€Å"Found you, Potter,† he murmurs. â€Å"Good . . . old . . . Potsie.† Burny hadn’t been shaking doorknobs at all (not that Andy Railsback will ever know this). He had been feeling for the fellow who diddled him out of a sweet little Chicago housing deal back in the late seventies. South Side, home of the White Sox. Blacktown, in other words. Lots of federal money in that one, and several bushels of Illinois dough as well. Enough skim available to last for years, more angles than on a baseball field, but George â€Å"Go Fuck Your Mother† Potter had gotten there first, cash had changed hands beneath the proverbial table, and Charles Burn-side (or perhaps then he’d still been Carl Bierstone; it’s hard to remember) had been out in the cold. But Burny has kept track of the thief for lo these many years. (Well, not Burny himself, actually, but as we must by now have realized, this is a man with powerful friends.) Old Potsie what his friends called him in the days when he still had a few declared bankruptcy in La Riviere back in the nineties, and lost most of what he still had hidden away during the Great Dot-Com Wreck of Double Aught. But that’s not good enough for Burny. Potsie requires further punishment, and the coincidence of that particular fuckhead washing up in this particular fuckhole of a town is just too good to pass up. Burny’s principal motive a brainless desire to keep stirring the pot, to make sure bad goes to worse hasn’t changed, but this will serve that purpose, too. So he traveled to the Nelson, doing so in a way Jack understands and Judy Marshall has intuited, homing in on Potsie’s room like some ancient bat. And when he sensed Andy Railsback behind him, he was of course delighted. Railsback will save him having to make another anonymous call, and Burny is, in truth, getting tired of doing all their work for them. Now, back in his room, all comfy-cozy (except for the arthritis, that is), he turns his mind away from George Potter, and begins to Summon. Looking up into the dark, Charles Burnside’s eyes begin to glow in a distinctly unsettling way. â€Å"Gorg,† he says. â€Å"Gorg t’eelee. Dinnit a abbalah. Samman Tansy. Samman a montah a Irma. Dinnit a abbalah, Gorg. Dinnit a Ram Abbalah.† Gorg. Gorg, come. Serve the abbalah. Find Tansy. Find the mother of Irma. Serve the abbalah, Gorg. Serve the Crimson King. Burny’s eyes slip closed. He goes to sleep with a smile on his face. And beneath their wrinkled lids, his eyes continue to glow like hooded lamps. Morty Fine, the night manager of the Nelson Hotel, is half-asleep over his magazine when Andy Railsback comes bursting in, startling him so badly that Morty almost tumbles out of his chair. His magazine falls to the floor with a flat slap. â€Å"Jesus Christ, Andy, you almost gave me a heart attack!† Morty cries. â€Å"You ever hear of knocking, or at least clearing your goddam throat?† Andy takes no notice, and Morty realizes the old fella is as white as a sheet. Maybe he’s the one having the heart attack. It wouldn’t be the first time one occurred in the Nelson. â€Å"You gotta call the police,† Andy says. â€Å"They’re horrible. Dear Jesus, Morty, they’re the most horrible pictures I ever saw . . . Polaroids . . . and oh man, I thought he was going to come back in . . . come back in any second . . . but at first I was just froze, and I . . . I . . .† â€Å"Slow down,† Morty says, concerned. â€Å"What are you talking about?† Andy takes a deep breath and makes a visible effort to get himself under control. â€Å"Have you seen Potter?† he asks. â€Å"The guy in 314?† â€Å"Nope,† Morty says, â€Å"but most nights he’s in Lucky’s around this time, having a few beers and maybe a hamburger. Although why anybody would eat anything in that place, I don’t know.† Then, perhaps associating one ptomaine palace with another: â€Å"Hey, have you heard what the cops found out at Ed’s Eats? Trevor Gordon was by and he said â€Å" â€Å"Never mind.† Andy sits in the chair on the other side of the desk and stares at Morty with wet, terrified eyes. â€Å"Call the police. Do it right now. Tell them that the Fisherman is a man named George Potter, and he lives on the third floor of the Nelson Hotel.† Andy’s face tightens in a hard grimace, then relaxes again. â€Å"Right down the hall from yours truly.† â€Å"Potter? You’re dreaming, Andy. That guy’s nothing but a retired builder. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.† â€Å"I don’t know about flies, but he hurt the hell out of some little kids. I seen the Polaroids he took of them. They’re in his closet. They’re the worst things you ever saw.† Then Andy does something that amazes Morty and convinces him that this isn’t a joke, and probably not just a mistake, either: Andy Railsback begins to cry. Tansy Freneau, a.k.a. Irma Freneau’s grieving mother, is not actually grieving yet. She knows she should be, but grief has been deferred. Right now she feels as if she is floating in a cloud of warm bright wool. The doctor (Pat Skarda’s associate, Norma Whitestone) gave her five milligrams of lorazepam four or five hours ago, but that’s only the start. The Holiday Trailer Park, where Tansy and Irma have lived since Cubby Freneau took off for Green Bay in ninety-eight, is handy to the Sand Bar, and she has a part-time â€Å"thing† going with Lester Moon, one of the bartenders. The Thunder Five has dubbed Lester Moon â€Å"Stinky Cheese† for some reason, but Tansy unfailingly calls him Lester, which he appreciates almost as much as the occasional boozy grapple in Tansy’s bedroom or out back of the Bar, where there’s a mattress (and a black light) in the storeroom. Around five this evening, Lester ran over with a quart of coffee brandy an d four hundred milligrams of OxyContin, all considerately crushed and ready for snorting. Tansy has done half a dozen lines already, and she is cruising. Looking over old pictures of Irma and just . . . you know . . . cruising. What a pretty baby she was, Tansy thinks, unaware that not far away, a horrified hotel clerk is looking at a very different picture of her pretty baby, a nightmare Polaroid he will never be able to forget. It is a picture Tansy herself will never have to look at, suggesting that perhaps there is a God in heaven. She turns a page (GOLDEN MEMORIES has been stamped on the front of her scrapbook), and here are Tansy and Irma at the Mississippi Electrix company picnic, back when Irma was four and Mississippi Electrix was still a year away from bankruptcy and everything was more or less all right. In the photo, Irma is wading with a bunch of other tykes, her laughing face smeared with chocolate ice cream. Looking fixedly at this snapshot, Tansy reaches for her glass of coffee brandy and takes a small sip. And suddenly, from nowhere (or the place from which all our more ominous and unconnected thoughts float out into the light of our regard), she finds herself remembering that stupid Edgar Allan Poe poem they had to memorize in the ninth grade. She hasn’t thought of it in years and has no reason to now, but the words of the opening stanza rise effortlessly and perfectly in her mind. Looking at Irma, she recites them aloud in a toneless, pauseless voice that no doubt would have caused Mrs. Normandie to clutch her stringy white hair and groan. Tansy’s recitation doesn’t affect us that way; instead it gives us a deep and abiding chill. It is like listening to a poetry reading given by a corpse. â€Å"Once upon a mih’nigh’ dreary while I ponnered weak ‘n’ weary over many a quaint ‘n’ curris volume of forgotten lore while I nodded nearly nappin’ sun’ly there came a tappin’ as of someone gen’ly rappin’ rappin’ at my chamber door â€Å" At this precise moment there comes a soft rapping at the cheap fiber-board door of Tansy Freneau’s Airstream. She looks up, eyes floating, lips pursed and glossed with coffee brandy. â€Å"Les’ser? Is that you?† It might be, she supposes. Not the TV people, at least she hopes not. She wouldn’t talk to the TV people, sent them packing. She knows, in some deep and sadly cunning part of her mind, that they would lull her and comfort her only to make her look stupid in the glare of their lights, the way that the people on the Jerry Springer Show always end up looking stupid. No answer . . . and then it comes again. Tap. Tap-tap. â€Å"‘Tis some visitor,† she says, getting up. It’s like getting up in a dream. â€Å"‘Tis some visitor, I murmured, tappin’ at my chamber door, only this ‘n’ nothin’ more.† Tap. Tap-tap. Not like curled knuckles. It’s a thinner sound than that. A sound like a single fingernail. Or a beak. She crosses the room in her haze of drugs and brandy, bare feet whispering on carpet that was once nubbly and is now balding: the ex-mother. She opens the door onto this foggy summer evening and sees nothing, because she’s looking too high. Then something on the welcome mat rustles. Something, some black thing, is looking up at her with bright, inquiring eyes. It’s a raven, omigod it’s Poe’s raven, come to pay her a visit. â€Å"Jesus, I’m trippin’,† Tansy says, and runs her hands through her thin hair. â€Å"Jesus!† repeats the crow on the welcome mat. And then, chipper as a chickadee: â€Å"Gorg!† If asked, Tansy would have said she was too stoned to be frightened, but this is apparently not so, because she gives out a disconcerted little cry and takes a step backward. The crow hops briskly across the doorsill and strides onto the faded purple carpet, still looking up at her with its bright eyes. Its feathers glisten with condensed drops of mist. It bops on past her, then pauses to preen and fluff. It looks around as if to ask, How’m I doin’, sweetheart? â€Å"Go away,† Tansy says. â€Å"I don’t know what the fuck you are, or if you’re here at all, but â€Å" â€Å"Gorg!† the crow insists, then spreads its wings and fleets across the trailer’s living room, a charred fleck burnt off the back of the night. Tansy screams and cringes, instinctively shielding her face, but Gorg doesn’t come near her. It alights on the table beside her bottle, there not being any bust of Pallas handy. Tansy thinks: It got disoriented in the fog, that’s all. It could even be rabid, or have that Key Lime disease, whatever you call it. I ought to go in the kitchen and get the broom. Shoo it out before it shits around . . . But the kitchen is too far. In her current state, the kitchen seems hundreds of miles away, somewhere in the vicinity of Colorado Springs. And there’s probably no crow here at all. Thinking of that goddamn poem has caused her to hallucinate, that’s all . . . that, and losing her daughter. For the first time the pain gets through the haze, and Tansy winces from its cruel and wiry heat. She remembers the little hands that sometimes pressed so tidily against the sides of her neck. The cries in the night, summoning her from sleep. The smell of her, fresh from the bath. â€Å"Her name was Irma!† she suddenly shouts at the figment standing so boldly beside the brandy bottle. â€Å"Irma, not fucking Lenore, what kind of stupid name is Lenore? Let’s hear you say Irma!† â€Å"Irma!† the visitor croaks obediently, stunning her to silence. And its eyes. Ah! Its glittering eyes draw her, like the eyes of the Ancient Mariner in that other poem she was supposed to learn but never did. â€Å"Irma-Irma-Irma-Irma â€Å" â€Å"Stop it!† She doesn’t want to hear it after all. She was wrong. Her daughter’s name out of that alien throat is foul, insupportable. She wants to put her hands over her ears and can’t. They’re too heavy. Her hands have joined the stove and the refrigerator (miserable half-busted thing) in Colorado Springs. All she can do is look into those glittering black eyes. It preens for her, ruffling its ebony sateen feathers. They make a loathsome little scuttering noise all up and down its back and she thinks, â€Å"Prophet!† said I, â€Å"thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil!† Certainty fills her heart like cold water. â€Å"What do you know?† she asks. â€Å"Why did you come?† â€Å"Know!† croaks the Crow Gorg, nodding its beak briskly up and down. â€Å"Come!† And does it wink? Good God, does it wink at her? â€Å"Who killed her?† Tansy Freneau whispers. â€Å"Who killed my pretty baby?† The crow’s eyes fix her, turn her into a bug on a pin. Slowly, feeling more in a dream than ever (but this is happening, on some level she understands that perfectly), she crosses to the table. Still the crow watches her, still the crow draws her on. Night’s Plutonian shore, she thinks. Night’s Plutonian fuckin’ shore. â€Å"Who? Tell me what you know!† The crow looks up at her with its bright black eyes. Its beak opens and closes, revealing a wet red interior in tiny peeks. â€Å"Tansy!† it croaks. â€Å"Come!† The strength runs out of her legs, and she drops to her knees, biting her tongue and making it bleed. Crimson drops splatter her U of W sweatshirt. Now her face is on a level with the bird’s face. She can see one of its wings brushing up and down, sensuously, on the glass side of the coffee-brandy bottle. The smell of Gorg is dust and heaped dead flies and ancient urns of buried spice. Its eyes are shining black portholes looking into some other world. Hell, perhaps. Or Sheol. â€Å"Who?† she whispers. Gorg stretches its black and rustling neck until its black beak is actually in the cup of her ear. It begins to whisper, and eventually Tansy Freneau begins to nod. The light of sanity has left her eyes. And when will it return? Oh, I think we all know the answer to that one. Can you say â€Å"Nevermore†? How to cite Black House Chapter Fifteen, Essay examples