Nba Lockout

EPPENGER, JALIL MS. HARRIS ENGLISH 10/3/11 #1. ( why the NBA Lockout hasn’t been a triumph? ) NBA LOCKOUT I feel the NBA Lockout has been one of the most exceedingly terrible, episodes to ever occur, throughout the entire existence of the NBA. It hasn’t made fans upbeat and the players in the alliance have been vexed as well. I’ve saw that NBA players have attempted to conquer this circumstance by having various alliances, not related with the NBA to play in. This has appeared there enthusiasm and love of the game.The NBA lockout has persuaded a few players and lowered a great deal of them. I saw that a great deal of players have continued trying sincerely and are keeping steady over their game all through this baffling time. I feel the NBA lockout spellbound the mid year for NBA ball. There was nothing to anticipate other than European ball in the late spring. The NFL had the option to defeat its issues with agreements and business arrangements and end their loc kout before the season started.I don’t comprehend why the NBA can’t make sense of their concern. The NBA doesn’t have about the fan base of the NFL. The extreme deficiency of the period will truly hurt the NBA, considerably more than the NFL. The last NBA lockout was in 1998-99 season. The year Michael Jordan resigned for the second time in his vocation. It was an appalling time likewise for the NBA much like this one. This likewise discolored the game of b-ball. I wouldn’t be astounded if some NBA players left the NBA to play overseas.The game abroad is increasingly organized, hardcore, and ability orientated from what I’ve seen. The NBA is increasingly about star-force and physicality. I feel a great deal of job players in the NBA would thrive all the more abroad, in light of the fact that they can be allowed the chance to exhibit their aptitudes, and increase some acknowledgment for themselves. Generally speaking, I feel the NBA and their player s’ affiliation will deal together to settle on a beneficial consent to determine this issue simply like the NFL did. it will simply require some investment devouring.

Macro.analysis Coca-Cola Spain Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

Macro.analysis Coca-Cola Spain - Essay Example Spain has been an individual from NATO since 1982 and furthermore the European Union since 1986. This EU participation speaks to an extremely noteworthy piece of its international strategy and supports the endeavors of European political components. Accordingly, a stable political circumstance and strategic relations guarantee advancement open doors for associations that are working together in Spain, and decreases any danger of potential clashes and differences. ((Branch of Foreign Affairs and Trade ; 2001; n.p). The Spanish food and refreshment area is a difficult market on account of the changing climatic and soil conditions. This outcomes in capricious local farming creation. Nonetheless, the basic changes executed in Spain in the course of the most recent decade suggest that Spain will keep on offering a serious, increasingly secure, steady and dependable condition to direct business for coke ( Dibbs S Simkin L; 2002 ; np) (Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade; 2001; np). A great deal of interest in investigate should be done so as to present items or bundling that agrees to the social and social standards of a nation. Discussing the pattern in Spanish shopper propensities we see a moderate development the utilization of food and drinks. Family units do a large portion of this spending when contrasted with inns, eateries and foundations. After the procedure of modernization that Spain has experienced, its renowned road life has been restrained. Albeit, uncommonly throughout the late spring season, individuals despite everything live in the city and bistro porches are discovered brimming with individuals. In this way, the mid year season could be a decent time for the drink organizations creating generally higher benefits for coke too (Philip Kotler, Gary Armstrong ;2006; np) Spanish creation of innovation exceptionally focused on the food and refreshment industry is among the most serious in the EU. The explanation for this mechanical progression has been the country’s

Get psyched, stay with it, do whatever it takes

Get psyched, stay with it, do whatever it takes I have to admit that I dont have fifty pieces of advice for anybody, but I do have a couple of things to say about starting college, particularly at the only college about which I know anything substantial. The most succinct advice I can give is from Adams dad (my future father-in-law, yay!), who has three pieces of advice which he applies to every situation anyone in our family encounters. 1. Get psyched. 2. Stay with it. 3. Do whatever it takes. I think this is superb advice. My advice is a lot more wordy (surprise surprise). The most important thing you will learn at MIT will be how to fail. Okay, one time I said that the most important thing youll learn is how to ask for help. And thats still true, but I guess the failing part happens before the asking for help part, so the failing gets to be primary. This might sound surprising, since people seem to think that the most important thing theyll learn in college is how to design a robot, or how to calculate the thermodynamic properties of a chemical reaction, or how to succinctly prove that If an integer n is greater than 2, then an + bn = cn has no solutions in non-zero integers a, b, and c. Well, it just aint so. I mean, if the cold hard facts were the important thing, you could save your tuition money and get your education via OCW or the NCBI Bookshelf. But an MIT education explicitly sets out to teach you how to think, and how to approach thinking, and how to take things you dont know and turn them into things you do know. And how to fail. If youre going to be a practicing scientist or engineer, you need to learn how to fall flat on your face. Despite the best intellectual efforts of any given scientist, lab work fails at least half of the time. Sometimes it fails even more than that. Sometimes the scientist can figure out whats wrong and take steps to fix the problem, but much of the time, hed be just as well off chanting incantations and waving religious amulets. (Some scientists I know recently put up in their lab a statue of St. Jude patron saint of lost causes next to a picture of Thoth, the Egyptian god of knowledge, figuring that plurality could only be a good thing for their protocols.) Failures just as necessary a skill in engineering, or business, or life. Nobodys successful all of the time. So what you need to learn how to do is fail, but not let failure get you down. You have to realize that something that I did failed is not the same as I am a failure, even if you have to tell yourself a hundred times before you believe it. You have to realize that being the best at everything you ever do doesnt mean youre amazing it means youre afraid to take chances. Almost everybody fails a test or two their first term freshman year at MIT. A lot of people fail a whole class or two. This is okay its pass/no record! Live it up. Youll figure out what you need to do to get the grades you want, and youll do it, and everything will be okay. And, of course, when youre stuck in your UROP lab doing a reaction for the nth time because you just cant get it to work well, Ive been there too. (Actually, Ive been there a lot.) Try to resist the urge to punch a machine, because theyre very expensive. Questions 1. Leo (after reading my directions to Target stores in the Boston area) asked, I checked all the bus stops and places you linked, man, I feel so powerless without a car. Isnt there a delivery-to-door option offered by some of the superstores? Theres always online ordering. :) I order stuff online quite a bit, and even though I hate paying shipping, its easier than carving out a chunk of the day to get to the store and back on the T. I will note, though, that a nonzero number of students do have cars, and most are more than happy to take a Target trip on a Saturday or something. My designated drivers are Rachel 07 and Woody 08 Rachel takes me to Target, and Woody takes big groups of people out to IHOP and Outback Steakhouse. 2. Charlotte noted, A short note to all- having a safe campus doesnt mean one should lower his/her guard, take care, especially if youre a girl (sigh). As Adam says, dont wander around by yourself drunk at night with money hanging out of your pockets. ;) You should always be aware of your surroundings Bostons a pretty safe city, but it is a city after all. 3. Al asked, is transfering to MIT hard than entering as a freshmen? In terms of admission percentages, yes. About 14% of freshman applicants were accepted last year, but only about 5% of transfer applicants were admitted and thats actually somewhat high for the transfer admission rate. Not many students leave MIT, so there arent very many spots open for transfers, unfortunately. 4. I think Colin gave a great response to Ajas question (and Ankits, too), so you should go look at it if youre wondering how to make yourself shine in the application. :)

Battle of King Mountain in the American Revolution

The Battle of Kings Mountain was fought October 7, 1780, during the American Revolution (1775-1783). Having shifted their focus south, the British achieved a decisive victory in May 1780 when they captured Charleston, SC. As the British pushed inland, the Americans suffered a string of defeats which allowed  Lieutenant General Lord Charles Cornwallis to secure much of South Carolina. As Cornwallis moved north, he dispatched Major Patrick Ferguson west with a force of Loyalists to protect his flank and supply lines from local militias. Fergusons command was engaged by an American militia force at Kings Mountain on October 7 and destroyed. The victory provided a badly needed boost to American morale and forced Cornwallis to abandon his advance into North Carolina. Background Following their defeat at Saratoga in late 1777 and the French entry into the war, British forces in North America began pursuing a southern strategy for ending the rebellion. Believing that Loyalist support was higher in the South, successful efforts were made to capture Savannah in 1778, followed by General Sir Henry Clintons siege and taking of Charleston in 1780. In the wake of the citys fall, Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton crushed an American force at Waxhaws in May 1780. The battle became infamous in the region as Tarletons men killed numerous Americans as they attempted to surrender. American fortunes in the region continued to decline that August when the victor of Saratoga, Major General Horatio Gates, was routed at the Battle of Camden by Lieutenant General Lord Charles Cornwallis. Believing that Georgia and South Carolina had effectively been subjugated, Cornwallis began planning for a campaign into North Carolina. While organized resistance from the Continental Army had been swept aside, numerous local militias, particularly those from over the Appalachian Mountains, continued to cause problems for the British. Skirmishes in the West In the weeks prior to Camden, Colonels Isaac Shelby, Elijah Clarke, and Charles McDowell struck Loyalist strongholds at Thicketty Fort, Fair Forest Creek, and Musgrove Mill. This last engagement saw the militia raid a Loyalist camp that guarded a ford over the Enoree River. In the fighting, the Americans killed 63 Tories while capturing another 70. The victory led to the colonels discussing a march against Ninety-Six, SC, but they aborted this plan upon learning of Gates defeat. Concerned that these militias could attack his supply lines and undermine his future efforts, Cornwallis dispatched a strong flanking column to secure the western counties as he moved north. Command of this unit was given to Major Patrick Ferguson. A promising young officer, Ferguson had earlier developed an effective breech-loading rifle which possessed a greater rate of fire than the traditional Brown Bess musket and could be loaded while prone. In 1777, he led an experimental rifle corps equipped with the weapon until being wounded at the Battle of Brandywine. Ferguson Acts A believer that militia could be trained to be as effective as regulars, Fergusons command was composed of 1,000 Loyalists from the region. Appointed Inspector of Militia on May 22, 1780, he relentlessly trained and drilled his men. The result was a highly-disciplined unit that possessed strong morale. This force quickly moved against the western militias after the Battle of Musgrove Mill but was unable to catch them before they withdrew back over the mountains into the territory of the Watauga Association. While Cornwallis started moving north, Ferguson established himself at Gilbert Town, NC on September 7. Dispatching a paroled American into the mountains with a message, he issued a stark challenge to the mountain militias. Ordering them to cease their attacks, he stated that if they did not desist from their opposition to the British arms, and take protection under his standard, he would march his army over the mountains, hang their leaders, and lay their country waste with fire and sword. Commanders Armies: Americans Colonel John SevierColonel William CampbellColonel Isaac ShelbyColonel James JohnstonColonel Benjamin ClevelandColonel Joseph WinstonColonel James WilliamsColonel Charles McDowellLieutenant Colonel Frederick Hambright900 men British Major Patrick Ferguson1,000 men The Militia Reacts Rather than intimidate, Fergusons words sparked outrage in the western settlements. In response, Shelby, Colonel John Sevier, and others gathered around 1,100 militia at Sycamore Shoals on the Watauga River. This force included around 400 Virginians led by Colonel William Campbell. This rendezvous was facilitated by the fact that Joseph Martin had cultivated positive relations with the neighboring Cherokees. Known as Overmountain Men because they had settled on the western side of the Appalachian Mountains, the combined militia force made plans to cross Roan Mountain into North Carolina. On September 26, they began moving east to engage Ferguson. Four days later they joined Colonels Benjamin Cleveland and Joseph Winston near Quaker Meadows, NC and increased the size of their force to around 1,400. Alerted to the American advance by two deserters, Ferguson began withdrawing east towards Cornwallis and was no longer at Gilbert Town when the militias arrived. He also sent a dispatch to Cornwallis requesting reinforcements. Uniting Forces Appointing Campbell as their nominal overall commander, but with the five colonels agreeing to act in council, the militia moved south to Cowpens where they were joined by 400 South Carolinians under Colonel James Williams on October 6. Learning that Ferguson was camped at Kings Mountain, thirty miles to the east and eager to catch him before he could rejoin Cornwallis, Williams selected 900 picked men and horses. Departing, this force rode east through constant rain and reached Kings Mountain the following afternoon. Ferguson had chosen the position because he believed that it would force any attacker to show themselves as they moved from woods on the slopes to the open summit. Due to the difficult terrain, he elected not to fortify his camp.   Ferguson Trapped Shaped like a footprint, Kings Mountains highest point was at the heel in the southwest and it broadened and flattened towards the toes in the northeast. Approaching, Campbells colonels met to discuss strategy. Rather than simply defeat Ferguson, they sought to destroy his command. Moving through the woods in four columns, the militia slipped around the mountain and surrounded Fergusons position on the heights. While Sevier and Campbells men attacked the heel the remainder of the militia moved forward against the rest of the mountain.  Attacking around 3:00 PM, the Americans opened fire from behind cover with their rifles and caught Fergusons men by surprise (Map). Advancing in deliberate fashion, using rocks and trees for cover, the Americans were able to pick off Fergusons men on the exposed heights. Conversely, the Loyalists position on the high ground led them to frequently overshoot their targets. Given the wooded and rough terrain, each militia detachment effectively fought on its own once the battle commenced. In a precarious position with men falling around him, Ferguson ordered a bayonet attack to drive back Campbell and Seviers men. This was successful, as the enemy lacked bayonets and withdrew down the slope. Rallying at the base of the mountain, the militia began ascending a second time. Several more bayonet attacks were ordered with similar results. Each time, the Americans allowed the charge to expend itself then resumed their attack, picking off more and more Loyalists. The British Destroyed Moving around the heights, Ferguson worked tirelessly to rally his men. After an hour or so of fighting, Shelby, Sevier, and Campbells men were able to gain footholds on the heights. With his own men dropping at an increasing rate, Ferguson attempted to organize a break out. Leading a group of men forward, Ferguson was struck and dragged into the militia lines by his horse. Confronted by an American officer, Ferguson fired and killed him before being shot multiple times by surrounding militiamen. With their leader gone, the Loyalists began attempting to surrender. Shouting Remember Waxhaws and Tarletons Quarter, many in the militia continued to fire, striking down surrendering Loyalists until their colonels could regain control of the situation. Aftermath While casualty numbers for the Battle of Kings Mountain vary from source to source, the Americans lost around 28 killed and 68 wounded. British losses numbered around 225 killed, 163 wounded, and 600 captured. Among the British dead was Ferguson. A promising young officer, his breech-loading rifle was never adopted as it challenged the preferred British method of warfare. Had his men at Kings Mountain been equipped with his rifle, it may have made a difference. In the wake of the victory, Joseph Greer was dispatched on a 600-mile trek from Sycamore Shoals to inform the Continental Congress of the action. For Cornwallis, the defeat signaled stronger than anticipated resistance from the populace. As a result, he abandoned his march into North Carolina and returned south.

Christ Persuasive Essay - 842 Words

persuasive essay There is only one way to god and that is threw Jesus Christ. We have to go through Jesus because we are sinners and sin cannot be in God’s presence. Sin is falling short of Gods glory and since we all fall short we need Jesus to bring us back. To have Jesus we must accept him. People are naturally sinners we are born into it. So naturally we cannot be with God because we have sin. That is why God sent Jesus as the perfect sacrifice so that threw him we can be saved. In Romans 3:23 it says â€Å"All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.† That’s why we need Jesus because we all sin and fall short. In a way Jesus is like the middle man between God and us, because to go with God we need to go through Jesus†¦show more content†¦We have to realize that there is only one way to God and that is threw Jesus. Without him we couldn’t be with God because we have sin but Jesus sacrificed himself and paid for our sin so that we can be with Go d for eternity. 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Both essays offer a complete argument for justiceRead More Henry David Thoreaus Civil Disobedience and Martin Luther Kings Letter from Birmingham Jail820 Words   |  4 Pagesaccentuates his main concerns in his argument, his effectiveness in persuasion—appeals, conclusion, and practical application—pales in comparison to that of King’s.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In persuasive essays, appeals represent significant, rhetorical factors that rate the effectiveness of impact. Although Thoreau applies ethos, logos, and pathos in his essay, his writing lacks able organization, which affects the presentation and efficiency of his appeals. 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Coyote Blue Chapter 12~13 Free Essays

CHAPTER 12 Cruelly Turn the Steel-Belted Radials of Desire Crow Country – 1973 In the six years since his vision quest Samson had endured almost daily interpretations of the vision by Pokey Medicine Wing. Again and again Samson insisted that it wasn’t important, and again and again Pokey forced the boy to recall his experience on the mountain in detail. It was Pokey’s responsibility as a self-proclaimed medicine man to bring meaning to the symbols in the vision. We will write a custom essay sample on Coyote Blue Chapter 12~13 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Over the years, as Pokey read new meanings, he tried to change his and Samson’s lives to fit the message of the medicine dream. â€Å"Maybe Old Man Coyote was trying to tell us that we should turn our dreams into money,† Pokey said. With this interpretation, Pokey dragged Samson into a series of entrepreneurial ventures that ultimately served no purpose except to confirm to the people of Crow Country that Pokey had finally gone full-bore batshit. The first foray into the world of business was a worm ranch. Pokey presented the idea to Samson with the same blind faith with which he told Old Man Coyote stories, and Samson, like so many before him, was captivated with the idea of turning religion into money. Pokey’s eyes were lit up with liquor and firelight as he spoke. â€Å"They are building that dam up on the Bighorn River. They tell us that we will prosper from all the people who will come to the reservation to fish and water-ski on the new lake. That’s what they told us when they put the Custer Monument here, but whites opened stores and took all the money. This time we will get our share. We’ll grow worms and sell them for fishing.† They had no lumber to build the worm beds, so Pokey and Samson went to the Rosebud Mountains and cut lodgepole pines, which they brought down by the pickup load. Through a whole summer they hauled and built until the Hunts Alones’ five acres was nearly covered with empty worm beds. Pokey, convinced that their success depended on getting a jump on other prospective worm ranchers, instructed Samson to tell everyone who asked that they were building corrals to hold tiny horses that they were raising for the Little People that lived in the mountains. â€Å"It’s easier to keep a secret if people think you’re crazy,† Pokey said. With the beds finished, they were faced with the problem of filling them. â€Å"Worms like cow shit,† Pokey said. â€Å"We can get that for free.† Indeed, had Pokey asked any of the ranchers in the area, they would have let him haul away all the manure he needed, but because most of the ranchers were white and Pokey did not trust them, he decided, instead, that he and Samson would steal the cow pies in the dead of night. So it began: sunset, Samson and Pokey driving the old pickup into a pasture, Pokey driving slowly along while Samson followed on foot with a shovel, scooping piles into the bed of the truck, then the two of them stealing away with their reeking load to dump it in the worm beds, then out again. â€Å"The Crow have always been the best horse thieves, Samson,† Pokey said. â€Å"Old Man Coyote would be proud of the trick we have played on the ranchers.† Pokey’s enthusiasm mystified Samson, who couldn’t muster the same self-satisfaction at stealing something that nobody wanted. Nevertheless, after a month of pasture raids the beds were full and they drove to the bait store in Hardin to buy their breeding stock: night crawlers and red worms, five hundred each. Pokey burnt sage and sweet grass and prayed over the beds and they released the worms into the beds of manure. Then they waited. â€Å"We shouldn’t disturb them until spring,† Pokey said, but many nights Samson spotted him sneaking out to one of the beds with a trowel, turning over a patch, then skulking away. One night Samson was sneaking out with his own trowel when he saw Pokey on his knees with his face pressed to a bed. He stood up when he sensed the boy behind him. â€Å"You know what I was doing?† Pokey asked. â€Å"No,† Samson said, hiding his trowel behind his back. â€Å"I was listening to the sound of money.† â€Å"You have shit on your ear, Pokey.† From that time forward they were both more careful about their nocturnal progress checks, but neither found worm one. They waited through the cold Montana winter, sure that come spring they would be waist deep in worms and money. Never mind the fact that Yellowtail Dam wouldn’t be completed for two more years. After the thaw they marched to the beds together, shovels in hand, to turn over their squirming horn of plenty, but shovel after shovel turned up empty. Into the third bed they began to panic and were wildly slinging shit in the air when Harlan pulled up. â€Å"Digging for horses?† he asked. â€Å"Worms,† Pokey shouted, lifting the veil of secrecy with a single word. â€Å"Where did you get the manure?† â€Å"Around,† Pokey said. â€Å"Around where?† â€Å"The ranches on the res.† Harlan began to laugh and Samson was afraid for a moment that Pokey would brain him with the shovel. â€Å"You were trying to grow worms?† â€Å"Old Man Coyote told us to,† Samson said defensively. â€Å"We let go a thousand worms in here to breed so we could sell ’em to fishermen.† â€Å"I guess Old Man Coyote didn’t tell you that cattle ranchers put a wormer in their cattle feed, huh?† â€Å"Wormer?† Pokey said. â€Å"That manure was poison to your worms. They were probably dead ten minutes after you put them in there.† Samson and Pokey looked at each other forlornly, the boy’s lower lip swelling with disappointment, the man’s temples throbbing with pain. Some people believe that hard work is its own reward and a job well done is a tribute to a man’s character; fortunately, none of those people were around or they would have been ducking shovel blows. Pokey and Samson decided to get drunk. Harlan stayed on to coach the boy through his first hangover and run interference with Grandma, who would have skinned the two men had she known they were giving liquor to a twelve-year-old. It was the end of summer, a summer spent in sulking and speculating, before Pokey brought home the goats. He’d obtained the pair, a male and a female, from a dubious source in a Hardin bar by winning a bet that had something to do with a pineapple, a throwing knife, and a waitress named Debbie. Samson had difficulty putting the story together from Pokey’s drunken ravings, but he gathered that because Debbie had survived, and the pineapple had not, Pokey had two goats on his hands. â€Å"We could breed ’em and sell ’em for meat,† Pokey said. â€Å"But I got a better idea. Them lawyers and doctors are flying into Montana from the city and paying a thousand bucks a head to shoot bighorn sheep. I say we go to the airport in Billings and wait for one of them to get off a plane, then tell ’em they can come to the res and shoot one for two – three hundred. I can be the faithful Indian guide and lead them all over hell and back, and you can take the goats up into the mountains and tie them up where they can shoot ’em.† Despite Samson’s objections that even a city lawyer might know the difference between a bighorn sheep and a nanny goat, Pokey insisted that come morning they would be on the road to riches. Come morning, however, when Samson went outside to look at the goats he found them lying on their backs, legs shot stiff to the sky with rigor mortis, dead as stones. In his excitement Pokey had tied the goats next to a patch of hemlock, and the goats, perhaps sensing what was planned for them, munched their last meal and joined the ranks of Socrates. Not all of Pokey’s quests for spiritual capitalism were complete failures. He and Samson made a little money with the ;authentic; Indian fry-bread taco stand they set up outside of the Custer Battlefield National Monument, until the health department objected to the presence of marmot and raccoon meat in their all-beef tacos. And they did make forty dollars selling eagle feathers to tourists (actually the feathers of two buzzards that had dined on tainted goat carcass), which they used to buy marijuana seeds that produced a respectable crop of grape-sized casaba melons. (Harlan referred to this as the magic beans incident.) And finally, while Samson was busy with school and basketball and a developing obsession with girls, Pokey turned to prostitution and made five bucks from the owner of the Hardin 7-Eleven who paid the shaman to take his sandwich sign and go stand somewhere else. Samson was fifteen by the time Pokey decided that perhaps they were not meant to turn their dreams into money. Once again he sat the boy down in the kitchen to recount the vision. â€Å"Pokey, I don’t even remember much of the vision, and besides, how important could it be? I was only nine.† Samson’s friend Billy Two Irons was waiting outside to drive them to a  «forty-nine » party at the Yellowtail Dam and Samson was not in the mood to be cross-examined about an event that he was trying desperately to leave behind, along with the rest of the trappings of childhood. â€Å"Do you know why the Crow never fought the white man?† Pokey asked gravely. â€Å"Oh, fuck, Pokey, not now. I’ve got to get going.† â€Å"Do you know why?† â€Å"No. Why?† â€Å"Because of the vision of a nine-year-old boy. That’s why.† As much as Samson wanted to leave, he had spent too many years listening to the Cheyenne and Lakota call his people cowards to walk out now. â€Å"What boy?† he asked. â€Å"Our last great chief, Plenty Coups. When he was nine he went on his first fast, just like you. He cut pieces from his skin and suffered greatly. Finally, his vision came, and he saw the buffalo gone and then he saw the white man’s cattle covering the plains. He saw white men everywhere, but he saw none of our people. The medicine chiefs heard his vision and said that it was a message. The Lakota and the Cheyenne had fought the white men and lost their lands. The vision meant that if we fought the white men we would lose our land and be wiped out. Our chiefs decided not to fight and the Crow survived. We are here because of the vision of a nine-year-old boy.† â€Å"That’s great, Pokey,† Samson said, having gained nothing useful from the story. He was not going to quell any ridicule from non-Crows by telling them that his people had changed their way of life over a mystical vision. It was hard enough trying to live down the reputation of his crazy uncle as it was. â€Å"I have to go now.† He grabbed the drum that Pokey had made him and took off through the living room, high-stepping over his eight younger cousins, who were sprawled on the floor watching cartoons on televsion. â€Å"‘Bye, Grandma,† he tossed over his shoulder to his grandmother, who sat in a tattered easy chair among the kids, adding the final touches to a beaded belt she was making for him. In front of the Hunts Alone house a tall, acne-speckled Billy Two Irons was pouring a jug of water into the radiator of a twenty-year-old Ford Fairlane. Most of the water was draining out of the bottom of the engine onto the ground at his feet. â€Å"That thing going to make it up to Yellowtail?† Samson called. â€Å"No problem, bro,† Billy said without looking up. â€Å"I got twenty milk jugs of water in the backseat for the trip up. Coming home’s downhill most of the way.† â€Å"You fix the exhaust leak?† â€Å"Yep, tomato can and a hose clamp. Works fine as long as you keep the window down.† â€Å"How about the brakes?† Samson was staring over Billy’s shoulder into the greasy cavern of the engine compartment. Billy capped the radiator and slammed the hood before he answered. â€Å"You let it coast down to about ten miles an hour and throw it in reverse it’ll stop on a dime.† â€Å"Then let’s do it.† Samson jumped into the car. Billy threw the empty milk jug into the backseat, climbed in, and began cranking the engine. Samson looked back to the house and saw Pokey coming out the front door waving at them. â€Å"Hit it, man,† Samson said. â€Å"Let’s go.† The car finally fired up just as Pokey reached the window. He shouted to be heard over the din of the damaged muffler. â€Å"You boys watch out for Enos, now.† â€Å"We will, Pokey,† Samson said as they pulled away. Then he turned to Billy Two Irons. â€Å"Is Anus working nights again?† Anus was the name they used for Enos Windtree, a fat, meanspirited half-breed BIA cop who liked nothing better than to terrorize kids partying at some remote spot on the res. Once, at a forty-nine party near Lodge Grass, Samson and Billy and nearly twenty others were drinking and singing with the drums when Samson heard a distinct, sickening series of mechanical clicks right by his ear: the sound of a twelve-gauge shell being jacked into a riot gun. When he turned to the noise Enos hit him in the chest with the butt of the gun, knocking him to the ground. Then Enos shot the lights and windshields out of two cars before sending everyone on their way. When Samson told the story, people just said he was just lucky Enos hadn’t hit him in the face, or shot somebody. There were rumors that it had happened before. And people were dying on the L akota reservation at Pine Ridge, killed by the tribal police in what amounted to a civil war. â€Å"Enos works whenever he can find someone to fuck with,† Billy said. â€Å"I’d like to hang that fat fuck’s scalp from my lodgepole.† â€Å"Oooooo, brave warrior, heap big pissed off,† Samson chided in pidgin – speaking Tonto, they called it. â€Å"You telling me you wouldn’t want to see Anus’s head through a rifle scope?† â€Å"Yeah, if I thought I could get away with it. But a rifle would be too quick.† For an hour and a half, between stops to add water to the radiator, they theorized on the best way to do away with Enos Windtree. When they finally arrived at the party it had been decided that Enos should have his entire body abraded with a belt sander and a two-inch hole saw slowly driven through his skull with a drill press. (Samson and Billy had just finished with their first year of shop class and were still fascinated by the macabre potential of every power tool they had used; this fascination, of course, was fed by their shop teacher, a seven-fingered white man who described in detail every accident that had mangled, mutilated, or murdered some careless shop student since the turn of the century. The teacher had been so successful in instilling respect for the tools in the boys that Billy Two Irons had taken to skipping two classes after shop to mellow out and would have had a nervous breakdown had Samson not finished building his friend’s birdhouse for him.) Billy pulled the Fairlane slowly onto the dam and up to a dozen cars that were parked haphazardly on the three-hundred-foot structure. He threw the car into reverse and gunned the engine until the transmission screamed in protest and the car stopped in a jerking, squealing mechanical seizure. Samson was out of the car in an instant and a warm wind coming off the newly formed reservoir washed over him with the scent of sage. Twenty people were gathered at the rail of the dam, beating drums and singing a song of heartbreak and betrayal in Crow. Samson scanned the faces in the moonlight, recognizing and dismissing each until he spotted Ellen Black Feather, and smiled. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her long hair was blowing in a black comet tail behind her, her shirt was wrapped tight around her in the wind, and Samson noticed, to his delight, that she was braless. She saw Samson and returned his smile. It was perfect. Just as he had envisioned it on a dozen nights while he lay in the dark with his cousins sleeping around him. They would sing and drink for a while, maybe smoke a joint if somebody had one, then he and Ellen would finish the evening in the backseat of the Fairlane. He walked to Ellen and sat beside her on the rail of the dam, oblivious to the three-hundred-foot drop behind him. As he started to beat his drum and sing he looked back to the car to see Billy adding water to the radiator. It suddenly occurred to him that if he were going to enjoy the favors of Ellen Black Feather in the back of Billy’s car, it would be a good idea to move the twenty jugs of water first. He excused himself with a pat on her knee and returned to the car. â€Å"Billy, help me get these jugs into the trunk.† â€Å"They’re all empty, don’t worry about them.† â€Å"I’m going to need the space. Just open the trunk, okay?† Billy handed him the car keys. â€Å"Hunts Alone, you are a hopeless horndog.† Samson grinned, then took the keys and ran around to the back of the car. He was loading his first armload of jugs into the trunk when he heard a car pass by and the singing abruptly stopped. Samson looked up to see the green tribal police car stopping in the middle of the partiers, some thirty yards away. â€Å"Fuck. It’s Anus,† Billy said. â€Å"Let’s get out of here.† â€Å"No, not yet.† Samson eased the trunk lid down and joined Billy at the front of the car. They watched Enos Windtree climb out of the car and reach back in for his nightstick. The partiers stood stock-still, as if they were standing near a rattlesnake that would strike at the first movement, but their eyes were darting around looking for possible lanes of escape. All except for Ernest Bulltail, the biggest and meanest of the group, who met Enos’s gaze straight on. â€Å"This is an illegal gathering,† Enos rasped as he swaggered up to Ernest. â€Å"You all know it, and I know it. The fine is two hundred dollars, payable right now. Cough it up.† Enos punctuated his demand by driving the end of his nightstick into Ernest’s solar plexus, doubling the big man over. Ernest made an effort to straighten up and Enos hit him across the face with the nightstick. One of the other men stepped forward but froze when Enos dropped his hand to the Magnum strapped to his hip. â€Å"Now for my fine,† Enos said. â€Å"Fuck you, Anus!† someone screamed, and Samson’s heart sank as he realized that it was Ellen. Enos turned from Ernest and started for the girl. â€Å"I know how you’re going to pay up,† Enos said to Ellen with a leer. Samson knew he had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. Billy was tugging on his sleeve, trying to get him to go, but he was fixated on Enos and Ellen. Why hadn’t they brought a weapon? He moved to the back of the car and opened the trunk. â€Å"What are you doing?† Billy whispered. â€Å"Looking for a weapon.† â€Å"I don’t have a gun in the car.† â€Å"This,† Samson said, holding up a tire iron. â€Å"Against a three fifty-seven? Are you nuts?† Billy grabbed the tire iron and wrenched it out of Samson’s hand. Samson was almost in tears now with frustration. He looked back up the dam to see Enos, his gun at Ellen’s head, putting his free hand under her shirt. Samson pushed Billy aside, then reached into the trunk and pulled out the spare tire. He began creeping up the dam, cradling the heavy spare in his arms. The others watched him, eyes wide with fear. Ten yards away from Enos he started running, the tire held out in front of him. â€Å"Enos!† Samson shouted. The fat policeman pulled away from Ellen and was bringing up his gun to fire when the tire hit him in the chest and drove him back over the railing. Samson followed, tumbling halfway over the rail before someone caught the back of his shirt and tugged him back. He didn’t turn to see who it was, he just stared over the railing at the dam wall that disappeared into the darkness two hundred feet below. The others joined him at the rail and several minutes passed before the stunned silence was broken by Billy Two Irons. â€Å"I just had that spare fixed,† he said. Part 2 The Call to Action CHAPTER 13 Forget What You Know Crow Country – 1973 Of all the people who had seen Enos go over the side of the dam, only Billy Two Irons seemed to have avoided a state of stunned silence. While the others were still staring over the edge into the darkness, Billy was already formulating a plan to save his friend. â€Å"Samson, come here.† Samson looked back at Billy. He was beginning to shiver with unused adrenaline; a look of dreamy confusion had come over him. Billy put his arm around Samson’s shoulders and led him away from the railing. â€Å"Look, Samson, you’re going to have to run.† A moment passed and Samson did not answer until Billy jostled him. â€Å"Run?† â€Å"You have to get off the res and not come back for a long time, maybe never. Everyone here is going to think that they’re going to keep this a secret, but when the cops start kicking ass, your name is going to come out. You’ve got to go, man.† â€Å"Where will I go?† â€Å"I don’t know, but you have to. Now go get in the car. I’m going to try and raise some money.† Grateful that someone was thinking for him, and because he didn’t know what else to do, Samson followed Billy’s instructions. He sat in the car and watched his friend going from person to person on the dam collecting money. He closed his eyes and tried to think, but found that there was a movie running on the back of his eyelids: a slow-motion loop of a fat cop with a spare tire in his face going backward over a rail. He snapped his eyes open and stared, unblinking, until they filled with tears. A few minutes later Billy threw a handful of bills on the front seat and climbed in the car. â€Å"I told them you were going to hide out in the mountains and I was getting money for supplies. You should be able to get a long way before the cops figure out that you’re not on the res. There’s about a hundred bucks here.† Billy started the car and drove off the dam toward Fort Smith. â€Å"Where are we going?† Samson asked. â€Å"First we have to stop and fill up these jugs with water. I’ll take you to Sheridan and you can catch a bus there. I don’t trust this car to go any further. If we break down in the middle of nowhere you’re fucked.† Samson was amazed at his friend’s ability to think and act so quickly. Left to himself he knew he would still be staring over the dam wondering what had happened. Instead he was on his way to Wyoming. â€Å"I should go home and tell Grandma that I’m going.† â€Å"You can’t. I’ll tell them tomorrow. And once you’re gone you can’t call or write either. That’s how the cops will find you.† â€Å"How do you know that?† â€Å"That’s how they caught my brother,† Billy said. â€Å"He wrote a letter from New Mexico. The FBI had him in two days after that.† â€Å"But†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Look, Samson, you killed a cop. I know you didn’t mean to, but that won’t matter. If they catch you they’ll shoot you before you get a chance to tell what happened.† â€Å"But everyone saw.† â€Å"Everyone there was Crow, Samson. They won’t believe a bunch of fucking Indians.† â€Å"But Enos was Crow – part Crow, anyway.† â€Å"He was an apple, only red on the outside.† Samson started to protest again but Billy shushed him. â€Å"Start thinking about where you’re going to go.† â€Å"Where do you think I should go?† â€Å"I don’t know. You just need to disappear. Don’t tell me where you’re going when you figure it out, either. I don’t want to know. You could try and pass for white. With those light eyes you might pull it off. Change your name, dye your hair.† â€Å"I don’t know how to be white.† â€Å"How hard can it be?† Billy said. Samson wanted to talk to someone besides Billy Two Irons, someone who didn’t make as much sense: Pokey. He realized that for all his craziness, all his ravings, all his drinking and ritual mumbo jumbo, Pokey was the person he most trusted in the world. But Billy was right: going home would be a mistake. Instead he tried to imagine what Pokey would say about escaping into the white world. Well, first, Samson thought, he would never admit that there was a white world. According to Pokey there was only the world of the Crow – of family and clans and medicine and balance and Old Man Coyote. The white man was simply a disease that had put the Crow world out of balance. Samson tried to look into the future to see where he would go, what he would do, but any plans he had ever made – and there hadn’t been many – were no longer valid, and the future was a thick, white fog that would allow him to see only as far as the bus station in Sheridan, Wyoming. He felt a panic rising in his chest like a scream, then it came to him: this was just a different type of Coyote Blue. He was trying to look into the future too far and it was ruining his balance. He needed to focus on right now, and eventually he would learn what he needed to know when the future got to him. What did Pokey always say? â€Å"If you are going to learn, you need to forget what you know.† â€Å"Don’t use all your money for the bus ticket,† Billy said. â€Å"Once you get out of the area you can hitchhike.† â€Å"Did you learn all this when your brother got in trouble?† â€Å"Yeah, he writes me letters from prison about what he did wrong.† â€Å"He put a bomb in a BIA office. How many letters can that take?† â€Å"Not that. What he did wrong to get caught.† â€Å"Oh,† Samson said. Two hours later Samson was climbing on a bus headed for Elko, Nevada, carrying with him everything he owned: twenty-three dollars, a pocketknife, and a small buckskin bundle. He took a window seat in the back of the bus and stared out over the dark countryside, really seeing nothing, as he tried to imagine where he would end up. His fear of getting away was almost greater than his fear of being caught. At least if he were caught his fate would be in someone else’s hands. After an hour or so on the road Samson sensed that the bus was slowing down. He looked around for a reaction from the other passengers, but except for an old lady in the front who was engrossed in a romance novel, they were all asleep. The driver downshifted and Samson felt the big diesel at his back roar as the bus pulled into the passing lane. Out his window he saw the back of a long, powder-blue car. As the bus moved up Samson watched the big car glide below him, seeming to go on forever. He saw the back of the driver’s head, then his face. It was the fat salesman from his vision. Samson twisted in his seat, trying to get a better look as they passed. The salesman seemed to see him through the blackout windows of the bus and raised a bottle of Coke as if toasting Samson. â€Å"Did you see that?† Samson cried to the old lady. â€Å"Did you see that car?† The old lady turned to him and shook her head, and a cowboy in the next seat groaned. â€Å"Did you see who was in that car?† Samson asked the bus driver, who snickered and shook his head. The cowboy in the next seat was awake now and he pushed his hat from over his eyes. â€Å"Well, son, now that you got me wetting myself in suspense, who was in the car?† â€Å"It was the salesman,† Samson said. The cowboy stared at him for a second in angry disbelief, then pushed his hat back over his eyes and slid back down in his seat. â€Å"I hate fucking Mexicans,† he said. How to cite Coyote Blue Chapter 12~13, Essay examples

Why a Multi-Party System in Pakistan Essay Example

Why a Multi-Party System in Pakistan Paper Political parties are the flesh and blood of political system. The strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures, pros and cons of a political structure are highly associated with the Political Party System. Giovanni Sartori suggested a method to classify the political party systems on the basis of number of effective political parties. In this way three main political party systems are defined; Uni-party system, Bi-party system and Multi-party system. Each system has its own distinct characteristics and advantages along with disadvantages. In Uni-party system a single dominating party is protected by the constitution to govern. In Bi-party system two major parties contest elections and make governments alternately and freely without the help of other. Multi-party system as Sartori defines is one where no party can guarantee an absolute majority. Governments are coalition based. Around 7 to 10 parties compete with each other and represent different interest groups. But in some countries the number may vary from tens to hundreds. In Pakistan 250 political parties are registered with Election Commission of Pakistan. Why such a big number of Political parties in a country of just 20 crore people? Why this extent of Multipartism in Pakistan? Is this the sign of healthy democracy? Why do we not have Uni-party or Bi-party system? Why Multi-party system in Pakistan? The answer to all these questions is same and its roots lie in the history of our social, political and cultural transformation. Social and Political systems are highly correlated to each other. Around the globe, diversity in social systems accounts for diverse political systems. Party system being primary ingredient of political system is deeply rooted in the cultural and social fabric of nations. People having unified cultural identity tend to possess similar ideas. We will write a custom essay sample on Why a Multi-Party System in Pakistan specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now We will write a custom essay sample on Why a Multi-Party System in Pakistan specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer We will write a custom essay sample on Why a Multi-Party System in Pakistan specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer Take the case of China, people have unified Confucius belief and their culture sprouts from his teachings. Social system of Chinese people revolves around Confucius principles. They do not possess diverse social systems internally. This unification of social code has helped them to adopt a single political view represented by the Communist party. Countries like Cuba and North Korea have similar political system. These countries are known to be under Totalitarian rule. People are not enthusiastic for democracy. Class difference has been eliminated to some extent under communism and hence people are not driven by class interests. As Marx was of the view that political struggle is mainly driven by economic motives. Uni-party system discourages free economic activities to minimize the class struggle and thus political interests are held to a certain extent that do not come eye to eye with the interests of single dominating party. If we compare the social and political evolution of Pakistan to the above stated characteristics of a society with unified political structure under the umbrella of a Single party, we find many dissimilarities leading to a difference in political thoughts between the two societies. Pakistan is a society with diverse cultures. Here diversity of cultures has given birth to variety of political interests. Each interest group has adopted a distinguished identity in the form of a political party. Here people vote for the interests of baradris, tribes, clans, sects, businesses and personalities. Pakistani society is still in evolutionary process, nascent as its age is just 66 years. People are yet to clothe themselves into a nation. The colliding interests of different ethnic groups do not let them trust each other. They find it suitable to safeguard their interests on their own. Each province has a different composition of political set up. MQM and PPP in Sindh, ANP in Khyber Pakhtunkha, PML-N in Punjab, Nationalists and few affluent people in Baluchistan are prominent on political scene. Whilst in centre PPP and PML-N are two political power hubs. Coalition governments in centre as well as provinces are fundamental feature of political system of country. On the other hand if we compare our socio-political set up with those countries having Bi-party system, we find some similarities along with dissimilarities. Similarities include 1) both are pro democracy 2) both guarantee practice of freedom of speech 3) both are flexible and allow adjustments according to needs of time. Bi-party system is present in its obvious form in United States. In US politically oriented people consider their only realistic way to capture political power is to be either a Republican or Democrat. Historians are of the view that Bi-party system evolved in US due to the tug of power between Federalists and Anti-Federalists. In other words it evolved out of two different opinion holder groups. Number of different opinion groups is in reality the number of political parties in the country. US has two large opinion groups other being very small are insignificant. In Pakistan the number of influential opinion groups is very large and so is the number of political parties. Another dominant factor in determining the type of party system is the Electoral procedure. Political experts say that in an Electoral process where Winner-Takes-All principle is in action, only Bi-party system would develop. Winner-Takes-All means only the majority vote-taker will be given all power as practiced in US. Whereas Party-Proportional-Representation gives all the parties an opportunity to get seats in legislature in accordance with the proportion of votes obtained. In Pakistan even smaller political parties are able to secure at least one seat in legislature to ensure their existence. Another difference lies in the economic condition of people in both the countries. People with prosper economies are less hostile and divided. People in Pakistan are divided in elite, upper, middle, low and lower classes. People in villages and urban areas are distant from each other not only physically but ideologically as well. Unification of thought and idea in Pakistan is not as strong as in US. Gary Cox described the reasons for Bi-party system in US beautifully in these words: The bounty of the American economy, the fluidity of American society, the remarkable unity of the American people, and, most important, the success of American experiment have all mitigated against the emergence of large dissenting groups that would seek satisfaction of their special needs through the formation of political parties. As Cox described the presence of certain qualities prevented the Multi-party system to evolve in US, the absence of same has resulted in the development of Multi-party system in Pakistan. If we sum up the whole discussion following factors are found responsible for the development of Multi-party system in Pakistan: 1) Pakistani society is not unified in cultural and organizational aspects. 2) People are divided into distant groups and classes on the basis of economic disparities. 3) People are driven by class interests based on Bradris, clans, tribes, ethnicity, sects and favorite personalities. 4) Pakistani society is still nascent and is striving to achieve stability by establishing balance between opposing interests of different groups. 5) Parliamentary form of government that works on principle of Party-Proportional-representation, allows each party to survive. Some political scientists are of the view that Multi-party system is a result of chaos and conflicting ideas and hence it results in further chaos. On the other hand some regard it as More Democratic practice as it ensures the participation and representation of more interest groups and provides more choice. Whatever be the goods and bads of Multi-Party system, it is the only viable and pragmatic approach to the political needs of the people of Pakistan.