Moral Philosophy and Living Issues essays

Moral Philosophy and Living Issues essays It has been well-established that every individual personality is the sum total of her or his life experiences. Since a person's life experiences usually represent a mix of influences such as family upbringing and values, religious teachings, and social culture, it follows logically that each of these factors play a role in developing an individual's worldview: "Worldviews are ideas, assumptions, beliefsthat individuals hold. That they may be widely shared makes them no less psychological. Moreover, that some aspects of them are established in childhood but that philosophies of life are late-adolescent developments suggest that they have a complex development." (McLoughlin, 1991, p. 21) Of course, the degree to which each factor influences a person may vastly differ. In my case, however, my current worldview has been formed largely on the basis of my family upbringing followed by my own learning and critical thinking about life's Today my worldview is that life has a definite purpose though neither its exact beginnings nor its ultimate destination, if any, may yet be clear to humankind. However, I believe that the very fact that life and human civilization has evolved over the millennia reveals that there is a definite purpose and meaning to life. For, every succeeding generation benefits from the knowledge and understanding left behind by the preceding ones. This indicates that human consciousness survives, albeit perhaps not as our individual persona's or in the manner that our individual egos may desire. The implication of this worldview is that every individual human being can, and does, leave behind a mark on life. Indeed, almost every word and action is the cause of some positive or negative effect, which is evident with sensitization and consciousness of the fact. The worldview I hold is also supported by the fact that there is clearly a design a...

A Dirty Job Chapter 6

He’d worked up a furious appetite because breakfast was running late today. The Emperor had slept on a bench by the Maritime Museum, and during the night his arthritic knee had snaked out of his wool overcoat into the damp cold, making the walk to North Beach and the Italian bakery that gave them free day-old a slow and painful ordeal. The Emperor groaned and sat down on an empty milk crate. He was a great rolling bear of a man, his shoulders broad but a little broken from carrying the weight of the city. A white tangle of hair and beard wreathed his face like a storm cloud. As far as he could remember, he and the troops had patrolled the city streets forever, but upon further consideration, it might have just been since Wednesday. He wasn’t entirely sure. The Emperor decided to make a proclamation to the troops about the importance of compassion in the face of the rising tide of heinous fuckery and political weaselocity in the nearby kingdom of the United States. (He found his audience was most attentive to his proclamations when the meat-laced focaccia were still nuzzled in the larder of his overcoat pockets, and presently a pepperoni and Parmesan reposed fragrant in the woolly depths, so the royal hounds were rapt.) But just as he cleared his throat to begin, a cargo van came screeching around the corner, went up on two wheels as it plowed through a row of garbage cans, and slid to a stop not fifty feet away. The driver’s-side door flew open and a thin man in a suit leapt out, carrying a cane and a woman’s fur coat, and made a beeline for the back door of Asher’s. But before he got two steps the man fell to the concrete as if hit from behind, then rolled on his back and began flailing at the air with the cane an d the coat. The Emperor, who knew most everyone, recognized Charlie Asher. Bummer erupted into a fit of yapping, but the more levelheaded Lazarus growled once and took off toward Charlie. â€Å"Lazarus!† the Emperor shouted, but the retriever charged on, followed now by his bug-eyed brother in arms. Charlie was back on his feet and swinging the cane as if he was fencing with some phantom, using the coat like a shield. Living on the street, the Emperor had seen a lot of people battling with unseen demons, but Charlie Asher was apparently scoring some hits. The cane was making a thwacking noise against what appeared to be thin air – but no, there was something there, a shadow of some sort? The Emperor climbed to his feet and limped into the fray, but before he got two steps Lazarus had leapt and appeared to be attacking Charlie, but he soared over the shopkeeper and snapped at a spot above his head – then hung there, his jaws sunk into the substantial neck of thin air. Charlie took advantage of the distraction, stepped back, and swung the cane above the levitating golden retriever. There was a smack, and Lazarus let go, but now Bummer launched himself at the invisible foe. He missed whatever was there, and ended up performing a doggy swish shot into a garbage can. Charlie made for the steel door of Asher’s again, but found it locked, and as he reached for his keys, something caught him from behind. â€Å"Let go, fuckface,† the shade screeched. The fur coat Charlie was holding appeared to be swept out of his hand and was pulled straight up, over the four-story building and out of sight. Charlie turned and held the cane at ready, but whatever had been there seemed to be gone now. â€Å"Aren’t you just supposed to sit above the door and nevermore and be poetic and stuff?!† he shouted at the sky. Then, for good measure, added, â€Å"You evil fuck!† Lazarus barked, then whined. A sharp and metallic yapping rose from Bummer’s garbage can. â€Å"Well, you don’t see that every day,† said the Emperor as he limped up to Charlie. â€Å"You could see that?† â€Å"Well, no, not really. Merely a shadow, but I could see that something was there. There was something there, wasn’t there, Charlie?† Charlie nodded, trying to catch his breath. â€Å"It will be back. It followed me across the city.† He dug into his pocket for his keys. â€Å"You guys should duck into the store with me, Your Majesty.† Of course Charlie knew the Emperor. Every San Franciscan knew the Emperor. The Emperor smiled. â€Å"That’s very kind of you, but we will be perfectly safe. For now I need to free my charge from his galvanized prison.† The big man tipped the garbage can and Bummer emerged snorting and tossing his head as if ready to tear the ass out of any man or beast foolhardy enough to cross him (and he would have, as long as they were knee-high or shorter). Charlie was still having trouble with the key. He knew he should have had the lock replaced, but it worked, if you finessed it a little, so he’d never made it a priority. Who the hell thought you’d ever have to get in quick to escape a giant bird? Then he heard a screech and turned to see not one, but two huge ravens coming over the roof and diving into the alley. The dogs arfed a frantic barking salvo at the avian intruders and Charlie put so much body English into wiggling the key in the lock that he felt an atrophied dancing muscle tear in his hip. â€Å"They’re back. Cover me.† Charlie threw the cane to the Emperor and braced himself for the impact, but as soon as the cane touched the old man’s hand the birds were gone. You could almost hear the pop of the air replacing the space they had taken up. The dogs caught themselves in mid-ruff; Bummer whimpered. â€Å"What?† the Emperor said. â€Å"What?† â€Å"They’re gone.† The Emperor looked at the sky. â€Å"You’re sure?† â€Å"For now.† â€Å"I saw two shadows. Really saw them this time,† the Emperor said. â€Å"Yes, there were two this time.† â€Å"What are they?† â€Å"I have no idea, but when you took the cane they – well, they disappeared. You really saw them?† â€Å"I’m sure of it. Like smoke with a purpose.† Finally the key turned in the lock and the door to Asher’s back room swung open. â€Å"You should come in. Rest. I’ll order something to eat.† â€Å"No, no, the men and I must be on our rounds. I’ve decided to make a proclamation this morning and we need to see the printer. You’ll be needing this.† The Emperor presented the cane to Charlie like he was turning over a sword of the realm. Charlie started to take it, then thought better of it. â€Å"Your Majesty, I think you’d better keep that. It looks as if you might be able to use it.† Charlie nodded toward the Emperor’s creaky knee. The Emperor held the cane steady. â€Å"I am not a worshiper of the material, you know?† â€Å"I understand that.† â€Å"I am a firm believer that desire is the source of most of human suffering, you’re aware, and no culprit is more heinous than desire for material gain.† â€Å"I run my business based on those very principles. Still, I insist you keep the cane – as a favor to me, if you would?† Charlie found himself affecting the Emperor’s formal speech patterns, as if somehow he had been transported to a royal court where a nobleman was distinguished by bread crumbs in his beard and the royal guard were not above licking their balls. â€Å"Well, as a favor, I will accept. It is a fine piece of craftsmanship.† â€Å"But more importantly, it will permit you to make your rounds in good time.† The Emperor now betrayed the desire in his heart as he let fly a wide grin and hugged the cane to his chest. â€Å"It is fine, indeed. Charlie, I must confess something to you, but I ask you to grant me the credulity due a man who has just shared witness, with a friend, of two giant, raven-shaped shades.† â€Å"Of course.† Charlie smiled, when even a moment before he would have thought his smile lost somewhere in the months past. â€Å"I hope you won’t think me base, but the second I touched this, I felt as if I had been waiting for it my whole life.† Then, for no reason that he could think of, Charlie said, â€Å"I know.† A few minutes before, inside the store, Lily had been brooding. It wasn’t her general brood, the reaction to a world where everyone was stupid and life was meaningless and the mere act of living was futile, especially if your mother forgot to get coffee at the store. This one was a more specific brood, that had started out when she arrived at work and Ray had pointed out that it was her turn to wear the vacuuming tiara, and insisted that if she wore the tiara, she actually vacuum the store. (In fact, she liked wearing the rhinestone tiara that Charlie, in a move of blatant bourgeois sneakiness, had designated be worn by whoever did the vacuuming and sweeping each day, and no other time. It was the vacuuming and sweeping she objected to. She felt manipulated, used, and generally taken advantage of, and not in the fun way.) But today, after she’d put the tiara and the vacuum away and had finally gotten a couple of cups of coffee in her system, the brooding had gone on, bu ilding to full-scale angst, when it began to dawn on her that she was going to have to figure out this college-career thing, because despite what The Great Big Book of Death said, she had not been chosen as a dark minion of destruction. Fuck! She stood in the back room looking at all the items that Charlie had piled there the day before: shoes, lamps, umbrellas, porcelain figures, toys, a couple of books, and an old black-and-white television and a painting of a clown on black velvet. â€Å"He said this stuff was glowing?† she asked Ray, who stood in the doorway to the store. â€Å"Yes. He made me check it all with my Geiger counter.† â€Å"Ray, why the fuck do you have a Geiger counter?† â€Å"Lily, why do you have a nose stud shaped like a bat?† Lily ignored the question and picked up the ceramic frog from the night before, which now had a note taped to it that read DO NOT SELL OR DISPLAY in Charlie’s meticulous block-letter printing. â€Å"This was one of the things? This?† â€Å"That was the first one he freaked out about,† said Ray matter-of-factly. â€Å"The truant officer tried to buy it. That started it all.† Lily was shaken. She backed over to Charlie’s desk and sat in the squeaky oak swivel chair. â€Å"Do you see anything glowing or pulsating, Ray? Have you ever?† Ray shook his head. â€Å"He’s under a lot of stress, losing Rachel and taking care of the baby. I think maybe he needs to get some help. I know after I had to leave the force – † Ray paused. There was a commotion going on out in the alley, dogs barking and people shouting, then someone was working a key in the lock of the back door. A second later, Charlie came in, a little breathless, his clothes smudged here and there with grime, one sleeve of his jacket torn and bloodstained. â€Å"Asher,† Lily said. â€Å"You’re hurt.† She quickly vacated his chair while Ray took Charlie by the shoulders and sat him down. â€Å"I’m fine,† Charlie said. â€Å"No big deal.† â€Å"I’ll get the first-aid kit,† Ray said. â€Å"Get that jacket off of him, Lily.† â€Å"I’m fine,† Charlie said. â€Å"Quit talking about me like I’m not here.† â€Å"He’s delirious,† Lily said, trying to pry Charlie out of his jacket. â€Å"Do you have any painkillers, Ray?† â€Å"I don’t need painkillers,† Charlie said. â€Å"Shut up, Asher, they’re not for you,† Lily said, automatically, then she considered the book, Ray’s story, the notes on all the items in the back room, and she shuddered. It appeared that Charlie Asher might not be the hapless geek she always thought him to be. â€Å"Sorry, boss. Let us help you.† Ray came back from the front with a small plastic first-aid kit. He peeled back Charlie’s sleeve and began to clean the wounds with gauze and peroxide. â€Å"What happened?† â€Å"Nothing,† Charlie said. â€Å"I slipped and fell in some gravel.† â€Å"The wound’s pretty clean – no gravel in it. That must have been some fall.† â€Å"Long story.† Charlie sighed. â€Å"Ouch!† â€Å"What was all the noise in the alley?† Lily asked, needing badly to go smoke, but unable to pull herself away. She just couldn’t imagine that Charlie Asher was the one. How could it be him? He was so, so, unworthy. He didn’t understand the dark underbelly of life the way she did. Yet he was the one seeing the glowing objects. He was it. She was crestfallen. â€Å"Just the Emperor’s dogs after a seagull in the Dumpster. No big deal. I fell off a porch in Pacific Heights.† â€Å"The estate,† Ray said. â€Å"How’d that go?† â€Å"Not well. The husband was grief-stricken and had a heart attack while I was there.† â€Å"You’re kidding.† â€Å"No, he just sort of became overwhelmed thinking about his wife and collapsed. I gave him CPR until the EMTs came and took him off to the hospital.† â€Å"So,† Lily said, â€Å"did you get the – uh – did you get anything special?† â€Å"What?† Charlie’s eyes went wide. â€Å"What do you mean, special? There was nothing special.† â€Å"Chill, boss, I just meant will we get the grandma’s clothes?† He’s it, Lily thought. The fucker. Charlie shook his head. â€Å"I don’t know, it’s so strange. The whole thing is so strange.† He shuddered when he said it. â€Å"Strange how?† Lily said. â€Å"Strange in a cool and dark way, or strange because you’re Asher and you’re out of it most of the time?† â€Å"Lily!† Ray snapped. â€Å"Go out front. Dust something.† â€Å"You’re not the boss of me, Ray. I’m just showing my concern.† â€Å"It’s okay, Ray.† Charlie looked like he was considering how, exactly, to define strange, and not coming up with anything that was working. Finally he said, â€Å"Well, for one thing, this woman’s estate is way out of our league. The husband said he called me because we were the first secondhand store in the phone book, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to do something like that.† â€Å"That’s not that strange,† Lily said. Just confess, she thought. â€Å"You said that he was grief-stricken,† Ray said, dabbing antibiotic ointment on Charlie’s cuts. â€Å"Maybe he’s doing things differently.† â€Å"Yes, and he was angry at his wife, too, for the way she died.† â€Å"How?† Lily asked. â€Å"She ate silica gel,† Charlie said. Lily looked at Ray for an explanation, because silica gel sounded techno-geeky, which was Ray’s particular field of geekdom. Ray said, â€Å"It’s the antidesiccant that they pack with electronics and other things that are sensitive to humidity.† â€Å"The ‘Do Not Eat’ stuff?!† Lily said. â€Å"Oh my God, that’s so stupid. Everyone knows you don’t eat the ‘Do Not Eat’ stuff.† Charlie said, â€Å"Mr. Mainheart was pretty broken up.† â€Å"Well, I guess so,† Lily said. â€Å"He married a complete fucktard.† Charlie cringed. â€Å"Lily, that’s not appropriate.† Lily shrugged and rolled her eyes. She hated it when Charlie dropped into Dad mode. â€Å"Okay, okay. I’m going outside to smoke.† â€Å"No!† Charlie jumped out of the chair and put himself between Lily and the back door. â€Å"Out front. From now on if you have to smoke you go out front.† â€Å"But you said that I look like a child hooker when I smoke out front.† â€Å"I’ve reassessed. You’ve matured.† Lily closed one eye to see if she could better glimpse into his soul and thus figure out his true agenda. She smoothed over her black vinyl skirt, which made a tortured, squeaking noise at the touch. â€Å"You’re trying to say I have a big butt, aren’t you?† â€Å"I absolutely am saying no such thing,† Charlie insisted. â€Å"I am simply saying that your presence in front of the store is an asset and will probably attract business from the tourists on the cable car.† â€Å"Oh. Okay.† Lily snatched her box of cloves off the desk and headed out past the counter and outside to brood, grieve really, because as much as she had hoped, she was not Death. The book was Charlie’s. That evening Charlie was watching the store, wondering why he had lied to his employees, when he saw a flash of red passing by the front window. A second later, a strikingly pale redhead came through the door. She was wearing a short, black cocktail dress and black fuck-me pumps. She strode up the aisle like she was auditioning for a music video. Her hair cascaded in long curls around her shoulders and down her back like a great auburn veil. Her eyes were emerald green, and when she saw him looking, she smiled, and stopped, some ten feet away. Charlie felt an almost painful jolt that seemed to emanate from somewhere in the area of his groin, and after a second he recognized it as an autonomic lust response. He hadn’t felt anything like that since Rachel had passed, and he felt vaguely ashamed. She was examining him, looking him over like you would examine a used car. He was sure he must be blushing. â€Å"Hi,† Charlie said. â€Å"Can I help you?† The redhead smiled again, just a little, and reached into a small black bag that he hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying. â€Å"I found this,† she said, holding up a silver cigarette case. Something Charlie didn’t see very often anymore, even in the secondhand business. It was glowing, pulsating like the objects in the back room. â€Å"I was in the neighborhood and something made me think that this belonged here.† She moved to the counter opposite Charlie and set the cigarette case down in front of him. Charlie could barely move. He stared at her, not even conscious that to avoid her eyes he was staring at her cleavage, and she appeared to be looking around his head and shoulders as if following the path of insects that were buzzing around him. â€Å"Touch me,† she said. â€Å"Huh?† He looked up, saw she was serious. She held out her hand; her nails were manicured and painted the same deep red as her lipstick. He took her hand. As soon as she touched him she pulled away. â€Å"You’re warm.† â€Å"Thanks.† In that moment he realized that she wasn’t. Her fingers had been ice-cold. â€Å"Then you’re not one of us?† He tried to think of what â€Å"us† might be? Irish? Low blood pressure? Nymphomaniac? Why did he even think that? â€Å"Us? What do you mean, ‘us’?† She backed away a step. â€Å"No. You don’t just take the weak and the sick, do you? You take anyone.† â€Å"Take? What do you mean, ‘take’?† â€Å"You don’t even know, do you?† â€Å"Know what?† Charlie was getting very nervous. As a Beta Male, he found it difficult enough to function under the attention of a beautiful woman, but she was just plain spooky. â€Å"Wait. Can you see this thing glowing?† He held out the cigarette case. â€Å"No glow. It just felt like it belonged here,† she said. â€Å"What’s your name?† â€Å"Charlie Asher. This is Asher’s.† â€Å"Well, Charlie, you seem like a nice guy, and I don’t know exactly what you are, and it doesn’t seem like you know. You don’t, do you?† â€Å"I’ve been going through some changes,† Charlie said, wondering why he felt compelled to share this at all. The redhead nodded, as if confirming something to herself. â€Å"Okay. I know what it’s like to, uh, to find yourself thrown into a situation where forces beyond your control are changing you into someone, something you don’t have an owner’s manual for. I understand what it is to not know. But someone, somewhere, does know. Someone can tell you what’s going on.† â€Å"What are you talking about?† But he knew what she was talking about. What he didn’t know was how she could possibly know. â€Å"You make people die, don’t you, Charlie?† She said it like she had worked up the courage to tell him that he had some spinach in his teeth. More of a service to him than an accusation. â€Å"How do you – ?† How did she – â€Å"Because it’s what I do. Not like you, but it’s what I do. Find them, Charlie. Backtrack and find whoever was there when your world changed.† Charlie looked at her, then at the cigarette case, then at the redhead again, who was no longer smiling, but was stepping backward toward the door. Trying to stay in touch with normal, he focused on the cigarette case and said, â€Å"I suppose I can do an appraisal – â€Å" He heard the bell over the door jingle, and when he looked up she was gone. He didn’t see her moving by the windows on either side of the door; she was just gone. He ran to the front of the store and out the door onto the sidewalk. The Mason Street cable car was just topping the hill up by California Street and he could hear the bell, there was a thin fog coming up from the Bay that threw colorful halos around the neon signs of the other businesses, but there was no striking redhead on the street. He went to the corner and looked down Vallejo, but again no redhead, just the Emperor, sitting against the building with his dogs. â€Å"Good evening, Charlie.† â€Å"Your Majesty, did you see a redhead go by here just now?† â€Å"Oh yes. Spoke to her. I’m not sure you have a chance there, Charlie, I believe she’s spoken for. And she did warn me to stay away from you.† â€Å"Why? Did she say why?† â€Å"She said that you were Death.† â€Å"I am?† Charlie said. â€Å"Am I?† His breath caught in his throat as the day played back in his head. â€Å"What if I am?† â€Å"You know, son,† the Emperor said, â€Å"I am not an expert in dealing with the fairer sex, but you might want to save that bit of information until the third date or so, after they’ve gotten to know you a little.† A Dirty Job Chapter 6 He’d worked up a furious appetite because breakfast was running late today. The Emperor had slept on a bench by the Maritime Museum, and during the night his arthritic knee had snaked out of his wool overcoat into the damp cold, making the walk to North Beach and the Italian bakery that gave them free day-old a slow and painful ordeal. The Emperor groaned and sat down on an empty milk crate. He was a great rolling bear of a man, his shoulders broad but a little broken from carrying the weight of the city. A white tangle of hair and beard wreathed his face like a storm cloud. As far as he could remember, he and the troops had patrolled the city streets forever, but upon further consideration, it might have just been since Wednesday. He wasn’t entirely sure. The Emperor decided to make a proclamation to the troops about the importance of compassion in the face of the rising tide of heinous fuckery and political weaselocity in the nearby kingdom of the United States. (He found his audience was most attentive to his proclamations when the meat-laced focaccia were still nuzzled in the larder of his overcoat pockets, and presently a pepperoni and Parmesan reposed fragrant in the woolly depths, so the royal hounds were rapt.) But just as he cleared his throat to begin, a cargo van came screeching around the corner, went up on two wheels as it plowed through a row of garbage cans, and slid to a stop not fifty feet away. The driver’s-side door flew open and a thin man in a suit leapt out, carrying a cane and a woman’s fur coat, and made a beeline for the back door of Asher’s. But before he got two steps the man fell to the concrete as if hit from behind, then rolled on his back and began flailing at the air with the cane an d the coat. The Emperor, who knew most everyone, recognized Charlie Asher. Bummer erupted into a fit of yapping, but the more levelheaded Lazarus growled once and took off toward Charlie. â€Å"Lazarus!† the Emperor shouted, but the retriever charged on, followed now by his bug-eyed brother in arms. Charlie was back on his feet and swinging the cane as if he was fencing with some phantom, using the coat like a shield. Living on the street, the Emperor had seen a lot of people battling with unseen demons, but Charlie Asher was apparently scoring some hits. The cane was making a thwacking noise against what appeared to be thin air – but no, there was something there, a shadow of some sort? The Emperor climbed to his feet and limped into the fray, but before he got two steps Lazarus had leapt and appeared to be attacking Charlie, but he soared over the shopkeeper and snapped at a spot above his head – then hung there, his jaws sunk into the substantial neck of thin air. Charlie took advantage of the distraction, stepped back, and swung the cane above the levitating golden retriever. There was a smack, and Lazarus let go, but now Bummer launched himself at the invisible foe. He missed whatever was there, and ended up performing a doggy swish shot into a garbage can. Charlie made for the steel door of Asher’s again, but found it locked, and as he reached for his keys, something caught him from behind. â€Å"Let go, fuckface,† the shade screeched. The fur coat Charlie was holding appeared to be swept out of his hand and was pulled straight up, over the four-story building and out of sight. Charlie turned and held the cane at ready, but whatever had been there seemed to be gone now. â€Å"Aren’t you just supposed to sit above the door and nevermore and be poetic and stuff?!† he shouted at the sky. Then, for good measure, added, â€Å"You evil fuck!† Lazarus barked, then whined. A sharp and metallic yapping rose from Bummer’s garbage can. â€Å"Well, you don’t see that every day,† said the Emperor as he limped up to Charlie. â€Å"You could see that?† â€Å"Well, no, not really. Merely a shadow, but I could see that something was there. There was something there, wasn’t there, Charlie?† Charlie nodded, trying to catch his breath. â€Å"It will be back. It followed me across the city.† He dug into his pocket for his keys. â€Å"You guys should duck into the store with me, Your Majesty.† Of course Charlie knew the Emperor. Every San Franciscan knew the Emperor. The Emperor smiled. â€Å"That’s very kind of you, but we will be perfectly safe. For now I need to free my charge from his galvanized prison.† The big man tipped the garbage can and Bummer emerged snorting and tossing his head as if ready to tear the ass out of any man or beast foolhardy enough to cross him (and he would have, as long as they were knee-high or shorter). Charlie was still having trouble with the key. He knew he should have had the lock replaced, but it worked, if you finessed it a little, so he’d never made it a priority. Who the hell thought you’d ever have to get in quick to escape a giant bird? Then he heard a screech and turned to see not one, but two huge ravens coming over the roof and diving into the alley. The dogs arfed a frantic barking salvo at the avian intruders and Charlie put so much body English into wiggling the key in the lock that he felt an atrophied dancing muscle tear in his hip. â€Å"They’re back. Cover me.† Charlie threw the cane to the Emperor and braced himself for the impact, but as soon as the cane touched the old man’s hand the birds were gone. You could almost hear the pop of the air replacing the space they had taken up. The dogs caught themselves in mid-ruff; Bummer whimpered. â€Å"What?† the Emperor said. â€Å"What?† â€Å"They’re gone.† The Emperor looked at the sky. â€Å"You’re sure?† â€Å"For now.† â€Å"I saw two shadows. Really saw them this time,† the Emperor said. â€Å"Yes, there were two this time.† â€Å"What are they?† â€Å"I have no idea, but when you took the cane they – well, they disappeared. You really saw them?† â€Å"I’m sure of it. Like smoke with a purpose.† Finally the key turned in the lock and the door to Asher’s back room swung open. â€Å"You should come in. Rest. I’ll order something to eat.† â€Å"No, no, the men and I must be on our rounds. I’ve decided to make a proclamation this morning and we need to see the printer. You’ll be needing this.† The Emperor presented the cane to Charlie like he was turning over a sword of the realm. Charlie started to take it, then thought better of it. â€Å"Your Majesty, I think you’d better keep that. It looks as if you might be able to use it.† Charlie nodded toward the Emperor’s creaky knee. The Emperor held the cane steady. â€Å"I am not a worshiper of the material, you know?† â€Å"I understand that.† â€Å"I am a firm believer that desire is the source of most of human suffering, you’re aware, and no culprit is more heinous than desire for material gain.† â€Å"I run my business based on those very principles. Still, I insist you keep the cane – as a favor to me, if you would?† Charlie found himself affecting the Emperor’s formal speech patterns, as if somehow he had been transported to a royal court where a nobleman was distinguished by bread crumbs in his beard and the royal guard were not above licking their balls. â€Å"Well, as a favor, I will accept. It is a fine piece of craftsmanship.† â€Å"But more importantly, it will permit you to make your rounds in good time.† The Emperor now betrayed the desire in his heart as he let fly a wide grin and hugged the cane to his chest. â€Å"It is fine, indeed. Charlie, I must confess something to you, but I ask you to grant me the credulity due a man who has just shared witness, with a friend, of two giant, raven-shaped shades.† â€Å"Of course.† Charlie smiled, when even a moment before he would have thought his smile lost somewhere in the months past. â€Å"I hope you won’t think me base, but the second I touched this, I felt as if I had been waiting for it my whole life.† Then, for no reason that he could think of, Charlie said, â€Å"I know.† A few minutes before, inside the store, Lily had been brooding. It wasn’t her general brood, the reaction to a world where everyone was stupid and life was meaningless and the mere act of living was futile, especially if your mother forgot to get coffee at the store. This one was a more specific brood, that had started out when she arrived at work and Ray had pointed out that it was her turn to wear the vacuuming tiara, and insisted that if she wore the tiara, she actually vacuum the store. (In fact, she liked wearing the rhinestone tiara that Charlie, in a move of blatant bourgeois sneakiness, had designated be worn by whoever did the vacuuming and sweeping each day, and no other time. It was the vacuuming and sweeping she objected to. She felt manipulated, used, and generally taken advantage of, and not in the fun way.) But today, after she’d put the tiara and the vacuum away and had finally gotten a couple of cups of coffee in her system, the brooding had gone on, bu ilding to full-scale angst, when it began to dawn on her that she was going to have to figure out this college-career thing, because despite what The Great Big Book of Death said, she had not been chosen as a dark minion of destruction. Fuck! She stood in the back room looking at all the items that Charlie had piled there the day before: shoes, lamps, umbrellas, porcelain figures, toys, a couple of books, and an old black-and-white television and a painting of a clown on black velvet. â€Å"He said this stuff was glowing?† she asked Ray, who stood in the doorway to the store. â€Å"Yes. He made me check it all with my Geiger counter.† â€Å"Ray, why the fuck do you have a Geiger counter?† â€Å"Lily, why do you have a nose stud shaped like a bat?† Lily ignored the question and picked up the ceramic frog from the night before, which now had a note taped to it that read DO NOT SELL OR DISPLAY in Charlie’s meticulous block-letter printing. â€Å"This was one of the things? This?† â€Å"That was the first one he freaked out about,† said Ray matter-of-factly. â€Å"The truant officer tried to buy it. That started it all.† Lily was shaken. She backed over to Charlie’s desk and sat in the squeaky oak swivel chair. â€Å"Do you see anything glowing or pulsating, Ray? Have you ever?† Ray shook his head. â€Å"He’s under a lot of stress, losing Rachel and taking care of the baby. I think maybe he needs to get some help. I know after I had to leave the force – † Ray paused. There was a commotion going on out in the alley, dogs barking and people shouting, then someone was working a key in the lock of the back door. A second later, Charlie came in, a little breathless, his clothes smudged here and there with grime, one sleeve of his jacket torn and bloodstained. â€Å"Asher,† Lily said. â€Å"You’re hurt.† She quickly vacated his chair while Ray took Charlie by the shoulders and sat him down. â€Å"I’m fine,† Charlie said. â€Å"No big deal.† â€Å"I’ll get the first-aid kit,† Ray said. â€Å"Get that jacket off of him, Lily.† â€Å"I’m fine,† Charlie said. â€Å"Quit talking about me like I’m not here.† â€Å"He’s delirious,† Lily said, trying to pry Charlie out of his jacket. â€Å"Do you have any painkillers, Ray?† â€Å"I don’t need painkillers,† Charlie said. â€Å"Shut up, Asher, they’re not for you,† Lily said, automatically, then she considered the book, Ray’s story, the notes on all the items in the back room, and she shuddered. It appeared that Charlie Asher might not be the hapless geek she always thought him to be. â€Å"Sorry, boss. Let us help you.† Ray came back from the front with a small plastic first-aid kit. He peeled back Charlie’s sleeve and began to clean the wounds with gauze and peroxide. â€Å"What happened?† â€Å"Nothing,† Charlie said. â€Å"I slipped and fell in some gravel.† â€Å"The wound’s pretty clean – no gravel in it. That must have been some fall.† â€Å"Long story.† Charlie sighed. â€Å"Ouch!† â€Å"What was all the noise in the alley?† Lily asked, needing badly to go smoke, but unable to pull herself away. She just couldn’t imagine that Charlie Asher was the one. How could it be him? He was so, so, unworthy. He didn’t understand the dark underbelly of life the way she did. Yet he was the one seeing the glowing objects. He was it. She was crestfallen. â€Å"Just the Emperor’s dogs after a seagull in the Dumpster. No big deal. I fell off a porch in Pacific Heights.† â€Å"The estate,† Ray said. â€Å"How’d that go?† â€Å"Not well. The husband was grief-stricken and had a heart attack while I was there.† â€Å"You’re kidding.† â€Å"No, he just sort of became overwhelmed thinking about his wife and collapsed. I gave him CPR until the EMTs came and took him off to the hospital.† â€Å"So,† Lily said, â€Å"did you get the – uh – did you get anything special?† â€Å"What?† Charlie’s eyes went wide. â€Å"What do you mean, special? There was nothing special.† â€Å"Chill, boss, I just meant will we get the grandma’s clothes?† He’s it, Lily thought. The fucker. Charlie shook his head. â€Å"I don’t know, it’s so strange. The whole thing is so strange.† He shuddered when he said it. â€Å"Strange how?† Lily said. â€Å"Strange in a cool and dark way, or strange because you’re Asher and you’re out of it most of the time?† â€Å"Lily!† Ray snapped. â€Å"Go out front. Dust something.† â€Å"You’re not the boss of me, Ray. I’m just showing my concern.† â€Å"It’s okay, Ray.† Charlie looked like he was considering how, exactly, to define strange, and not coming up with anything that was working. Finally he said, â€Å"Well, for one thing, this woman’s estate is way out of our league. The husband said he called me because we were the first secondhand store in the phone book, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to do something like that.† â€Å"That’s not that strange,† Lily said. Just confess, she thought. â€Å"You said that he was grief-stricken,† Ray said, dabbing antibiotic ointment on Charlie’s cuts. â€Å"Maybe he’s doing things differently.† â€Å"Yes, and he was angry at his wife, too, for the way she died.† â€Å"How?† Lily asked. â€Å"She ate silica gel,† Charlie said. Lily looked at Ray for an explanation, because silica gel sounded techno-geeky, which was Ray’s particular field of geekdom. Ray said, â€Å"It’s the antidesiccant that they pack with electronics and other things that are sensitive to humidity.† â€Å"The ‘Do Not Eat’ stuff?!† Lily said. â€Å"Oh my God, that’s so stupid. Everyone knows you don’t eat the ‘Do Not Eat’ stuff.† Charlie said, â€Å"Mr. Mainheart was pretty broken up.† â€Å"Well, I guess so,† Lily said. â€Å"He married a complete fucktard.† Charlie cringed. â€Å"Lily, that’s not appropriate.† Lily shrugged and rolled her eyes. She hated it when Charlie dropped into Dad mode. â€Å"Okay, okay. I’m going outside to smoke.† â€Å"No!† Charlie jumped out of the chair and put himself between Lily and the back door. â€Å"Out front. From now on if you have to smoke you go out front.† â€Å"But you said that I look like a child hooker when I smoke out front.† â€Å"I’ve reassessed. You’ve matured.† Lily closed one eye to see if she could better glimpse into his soul and thus figure out his true agenda. She smoothed over her black vinyl skirt, which made a tortured, squeaking noise at the touch. â€Å"You’re trying to say I have a big butt, aren’t you?† â€Å"I absolutely am saying no such thing,† Charlie insisted. â€Å"I am simply saying that your presence in front of the store is an asset and will probably attract business from the tourists on the cable car.† â€Å"Oh. Okay.† Lily snatched her box of cloves off the desk and headed out past the counter and outside to brood, grieve really, because as much as she had hoped, she was not Death. The book was Charlie’s. That evening Charlie was watching the store, wondering why he had lied to his employees, when he saw a flash of red passing by the front window. A second later, a strikingly pale redhead came through the door. She was wearing a short, black cocktail dress and black fuck-me pumps. She strode up the aisle like she was auditioning for a music video. Her hair cascaded in long curls around her shoulders and down her back like a great auburn veil. Her eyes were emerald green, and when she saw him looking, she smiled, and stopped, some ten feet away. Charlie felt an almost painful jolt that seemed to emanate from somewhere in the area of his groin, and after a second he recognized it as an autonomic lust response. He hadn’t felt anything like that since Rachel had passed, and he felt vaguely ashamed. She was examining him, looking him over like you would examine a used car. He was sure he must be blushing. â€Å"Hi,† Charlie said. â€Å"Can I help you?† The redhead smiled again, just a little, and reached into a small black bag that he hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying. â€Å"I found this,† she said, holding up a silver cigarette case. Something Charlie didn’t see very often anymore, even in the secondhand business. It was glowing, pulsating like the objects in the back room. â€Å"I was in the neighborhood and something made me think that this belonged here.† She moved to the counter opposite Charlie and set the cigarette case down in front of him. Charlie could barely move. He stared at her, not even conscious that to avoid her eyes he was staring at her cleavage, and she appeared to be looking around his head and shoulders as if following the path of insects that were buzzing around him. â€Å"Touch me,† she said. â€Å"Huh?† He looked up, saw she was serious. She held out her hand; her nails were manicured and painted the same deep red as her lipstick. He took her hand. As soon as she touched him she pulled away. â€Å"You’re warm.† â€Å"Thanks.† In that moment he realized that she wasn’t. Her fingers had been ice-cold. â€Å"Then you’re not one of us?† He tried to think of what â€Å"us† might be? Irish? Low blood pressure? Nymphomaniac? Why did he even think that? â€Å"Us? What do you mean, ‘us’?† She backed away a step. â€Å"No. You don’t just take the weak and the sick, do you? You take anyone.† â€Å"Take? What do you mean, ‘take’?† â€Å"You don’t even know, do you?† â€Å"Know what?† Charlie was getting very nervous. As a Beta Male, he found it difficult enough to function under the attention of a beautiful woman, but she was just plain spooky. â€Å"Wait. Can you see this thing glowing?† He held out the cigarette case. â€Å"No glow. It just felt like it belonged here,† she said. â€Å"What’s your name?† â€Å"Charlie Asher. This is Asher’s.† â€Å"Well, Charlie, you seem like a nice guy, and I don’t know exactly what you are, and it doesn’t seem like you know. You don’t, do you?† â€Å"I’ve been going through some changes,† Charlie said, wondering why he felt compelled to share this at all. The redhead nodded, as if confirming something to herself. â€Å"Okay. I know what it’s like to, uh, to find yourself thrown into a situation where forces beyond your control are changing you into someone, something you don’t have an owner’s manual for. I understand what it is to not know. But someone, somewhere, does know. Someone can tell you what’s going on.† â€Å"What are you talking about?† But he knew what she was talking about. What he didn’t know was how she could possibly know. â€Å"You make people die, don’t you, Charlie?† She said it like she had worked up the courage to tell him that he had some spinach in his teeth. More of a service to him than an accusation. â€Å"How do you – ?† How did she – â€Å"Because it’s what I do. Not like you, but it’s what I do. Find them, Charlie. Backtrack and find whoever was there when your world changed.† Charlie looked at her, then at the cigarette case, then at the redhead again, who was no longer smiling, but was stepping backward toward the door. Trying to stay in touch with normal, he focused on the cigarette case and said, â€Å"I suppose I can do an appraisal – â€Å" He heard the bell over the door jingle, and when he looked up she was gone. He didn’t see her moving by the windows on either side of the door; she was just gone. He ran to the front of the store and out the door onto the sidewalk. The Mason Street cable car was just topping the hill up by California Street and he could hear the bell, there was a thin fog coming up from the Bay that threw colorful halos around the neon signs of the other businesses, but there was no striking redhead on the street. He went to the corner and looked down Vallejo, but again no redhead, just the Emperor, sitting against the building with his dogs. â€Å"Good evening, Charlie.† â€Å"Your Majesty, did you see a redhead go by here just now?† â€Å"Oh yes. Spoke to her. I’m not sure you have a chance there, Charlie, I believe she’s spoken for. And she did warn me to stay away from you.† â€Å"Why? Did she say why?† â€Å"She said that you were Death.† â€Å"I am?† Charlie said. â€Å"Am I?† His breath caught in his throat as the day played back in his head. â€Å"What if I am?† â€Å"You know, son,† the Emperor said, â€Å"I am not an expert in dealing with the fairer sex, but you might want to save that bit of information until the third date or so, after they’ve gotten to know you a little.†

International Fasion Marketing Research Paper Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

International Fasion Marketing - Research Paper Example From this paper it is clear that may pose some hurdles in crossing national borders in terms of compliance with the foreign country’s national law and ethics. Specially as Brora is going multinational, the terms and conditions related to a helpline that  is being governed by British law has been assessed as a negative factor for international customers.Brora was started as a small enterprise with a narrow range of cashmere sweaters, but with the passage of time, it swelled to 15 stores in the UK. The primary factor was the use of modern technology for marketing and servicing purposes.As the discussion stresses the extent of variation and popular addition to the stock can also be counted in the economic gain of the company. Even by maintaining relatively higher prices as compared to its competitors in cashmere, Brora has successfully maintained its market value. With the high notion of ‘made in UK’, Brora is quite well accepted in the UK. Brora has its   genre of customers with which it has maintained good relations. While finding enough space in the peculiar market of cashmere, Brora has successfully expanded   its business.  Brora has successfully integrated the traditionalism of handwork with the latest technology of cashmere production.  If SWOT analysis is applied on Brora, we will find that Brora has many factors  that  are the necessary ingredients of its expanding business. It is wholly owned by Victoria Stapleton.

Consider the value of mobilisation theory in understanding trade union Essay

Consider the value of mobilisation theory in understanding trade union activism in all its forms - Essay Example The trade unions probably had a role in advancing equality between gender and equality among races. They have been mobilised to combat the onslaught of the HIV-AIDS in the working places and were important conduits to better health for employees and the proletariat. It can also be argued that trade unions are among the leading organizations in the fight against HIV-AIDS and all scourge of humanity (Trade Union Congress of the United Kingdom 2011). At the same time, however, trade unions are organizations that are relatively to radicalize in society. Marx, Engels, Trotsky, and other leaders of Marxism and several generations of the Communist and Socialist International have focused on the trade unions for their revolutionary work. The charisma of communist and socialist organisations has once threatened the industrial revolution in the late 18th and 19th centuries. The Marxist liberations movements strengthened by the trade unions have almost wiped out capitalism in the face of globe. Once upon a time, the Marxist liberation movements have covered much of Europe through Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and through the â€Å"people’s republics† of China, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. ... II. Mobilisation Theory: the Kelley and the Johnson-Jarley perspectives The emergence of mobilization theory is attributed to John Kelly. According to Johnson and Jarley, Kelly’s mobilisation theory moved industrial relations discourse â€Å"away from collective bargaining and its associated institutions and towards an examination of the processes that converts individual grievances into collective action† (2004, p. 543). Kelly’s work had emphasized that â€Å"injustice serves as the central organizing principle for mobilizing workers, and as such provides a potential powerful construct for understanding industrial relations processes† (Johnson and Jarley 2004, p. 543). The tone and content of the work of Johnson and Jarley (2004) supported Kelly’s perspective. In interpreting the trade union history of the United States, Johnson and Jarley pointed out the trade union rhetoric had centred their demands on â€Å"workplace dignity† and â€Å"s ocial justice†. However, perhaps we should not forget that there was no other alternative then but to centre on the rhetoric because the industrial revolution was probably associated as well with growing inequality. In the United Kingdom, I believe it is well known that the industrious revolution has been associated with long working hours and enslavement of women and children in factory grounds as a few lived in luxury. Women and children have to work for long hours during the early phase of the industrial revolution as the factory owners were enriching themselves. The work of Johnson and Jarley (2004) was built on testing the argument that member participation in trade union work is a function of workplace injustice and justice perceptions. The Johnson and Jarley

Spotted Horses :: essays research papers

"Spotted Horses" Vs. "Mule in the Yard" William Faulkner wrote two short stories, which are alike in many aspects. "Spotted Horses" and "Mule in the Yard" are short stories that both involve comic animal chases and financial transactions. Even though the stories are written by the same author, have similar characteristics, and share similar plot features, they are entirely different stories. The stories are both examples of interpretive literature, however "Spotted Horses" is a more interpretive short story than "Mule in the Yard because "Spotted Horses" fits Perrine’s profile of interpretive literature, and "Mule in the Yard" seems to replicate Perrine’s profile of escape literature. According to Laurence Perrine in his seventh edition of Literature: Structure, Sound and Sense he states the definition of interpretive literature is "Literature written to deepen and broaden and sharpen our awareness of life." Interpretive literature is not candy coated. It allows its readers to experience the trials and tribulations of life. By using graphically realistic plots and endings, which are consistent to those in real life, interpretive literature achieves a higher literary value than escape literature. Interpretive literature allows its reader too step out of the fantasy world they might be living in and focus on what the world is really about. One might say an interpretive story provides insight to understanding. Not only understanding of ourselves, but our neighbors, friends, family or anyone else we might encounter. Escape literature is the complete opposite of interpretive literature. Escape literature is written purely for entertainment. Escape literature takes it’s reader out of the real world and into a fantasy world where everything works and happens just like we want it to. This is a world where the ending always has closure. Escapist authors hardly ever end on a bad note. They want the reader to leave the pages of their story satisfied, and having a sense of contentment. Perrine’s example of escape literature is Cinderella. Cinderella’s life goes from rags to riches in one night. She marries a prince and lives happily ever after. According to Perrine the most common expectations of escape literature readers are the sympathetic heroes or heroines, the suspenseful plot which one exciting event proceeds another, the resolved happy outcome, and the theme. Escape literature themes confirm the reader’s previous opinions of the world. Readers of escape literature read for pleasure not to gather knowledge on how to survive in the real world.

Analysis of the Nitrogen Content of Lawn Fertiliser Essay

Research Question: What is the percentage by mass of nitrogen (from the ammonium ion NH4+) in Bunnings Green Up brand of lawn fertilizer compared to the manufacturer’s specification of 12.3%? Aim: To determine the percentage by mass of available nitrogen, present as the ammonium ion, in Bunnings Green Up brand of lawn fertiliser, then comparing it with the one specified by the manufacturer. Hypothesis: Since the ammonium ion (NH4+) present in fertilisers is a weak acid, it is hard to obtain an exact end point. Hence, back titration can be used to determine the percentage by mass composition of nitrogen in the fertiliser. To deduce the amount of nitrogen in ammonia, the NH4+ ion is reacted with an excess of NaOH, and the amount of unreacted NaOH found by titration with HCl is used to deduce the amount of NH4+ ion present by subtracting it from the initial amount of NaOH to find the amount that reacted with it. From this, the percentage by mass of nitrogen present in the fertiliser can be found and subsequently compared to the manufacturer’s specification. It is hypothesized that the percentage by mass of nitrogen present in the fertiliser will be similar or close to that specified by the manufacturer (12.3%). Materials: * * 100 cm3 of 0.1 mol dm-3 NaOH * 100 cm3 of 0.1 mol dm-3 HCl * 1.5 grams of fertiliser * 250 cm3 volumetric flask * 3 à ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½ 250 cm3 conical flasks * 20 cm3 pipette * Burette and retort stand * 50 cm3 measuring cylinder * Bunsen burner, tripod, gauze mat * Mortar and pestle * Electronic balance * White tile, bench mat * Funnel * Spatula * Red Litmus paper * Methyl red indicator * Safety Measures: * Safety goggles must be worn at all times. Sodium hydroxide can react with the proteins in the eye. * Wear a lab coat. Hydrochloric acid can cause severe skin irritation. If any is spilt on the skin, wash it off with water immediately. * Ammonia vapour irritates the skin, eyes, and respiratory system. Method: 1. Accurately weigh about 1.2 grams of fertilizer. Record the brand of the fertiliser and the nitrogen content as specified by the manufacturer. 2. Dissolve the fertiliser in 250 cm3 of distilled water in a volumetric flask. Add the fertiliser first using a funnel and then add the water, allowing it to take with it the fertiliser remaining on the funnel, to the calibration line, stopper, and swirl the contents to dissolve the ammonium compounds in the fertilizer. 3. Using a pipette, dispense 20 cm3 aliquots of the fertilizer solution into three conical flasks. 4. Thoroughly wash the pipette and rinse it with a small volume of standard NaOH solution. Place a 20 cm3 aliquot of NaOH solution in each of the flasks containing fertilizer solution. Record the concentration of the standard solution of NaOH. 5. To one of the flasks, add 50 cm3 of distilled water. Boil the mixture for about 10 minutes. If necessary, add more water to maintain a constant volume of solution whilst boiling. Test the vapour at the neck of the flask with a moist strip of red litmus paper. If ammonia is present the paper will turn blue and heating should be continued until the point where litmus paper does not detect the presence of ammonia. Once this point has been reached, cool the flask under running water. 6. Repeat Step 5 with each of the other two conical flasks. 7. Rinse and fill a burette with standard HCl. Record the concentration of the acid and the initial burette reading. 8. Add two to three drops of methyl red indicator to each conical flask containing the fertilizer mixture, and titrate. The end point occurs when the initially yellow solution becomes orange. For each flask, record the burette reading once the end point has been reached. Data Collection: Table 1: Titration of the excess NaOH (0.084 mol dm-3) against HCl using Methyl Red Indicator Conclusion/Evaluation: Fertiliser is a natural or synthetic chemical substance or mixture that is used to enrich soil in order to promote plant growth. It influences grass colour, ability to recover from stress, and helps prevent weed invasions and diseases. Plants require more than a dozen different chemical elements but nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium are the three major nutrients needed by lawns; Nitrogen is the nutrient required most as it promotes growth and keeps the grass green, although too much nitrogen can have harmful effects on plants and crops, and on soil quality. In this investigation, the percentage by mass of nitrogen from the ammonium ion in the sample fertiliser is being determined. The manufacturer’s claim of the amount of nitrogen present in this type of fertiliser is 12.3%. The ammonium that is present in fertilisers is a weak acid, thus it is hard to identify a sharp end point in direct titrations with the naked eye. Back titration is used instead. It is an analytical chemistry technique in which the unknown concentration of a reactant can be found by reacting it with an excess volume of another reactant of known concentration. The resulting mixture is then titrated back, taking into account the molarity of the excess which was added. Before titration, the sodium hydroxide was reacted with ammonium in the fertiliser to produce ammonia and water: NH4+(aq) + OH-(aq) –> NH3(g) + H2O(l) The basic solution needed for titration was reached through heating the solution to remove the ammonium ions. By heating it, the rate of reaction between the ammonium ions and hydroxide ions increases, consequently producing water and ammonia. Since ammonia is an extremely volatile gas, boiling the solution will result the vaporization rate, which is the desired outcome. The ammonium ions are also the limiting reagent thus once completely reacted, ammonia production ceases. This is indicated when the red litmus paper, which tests for the presence of a base, no longer turns blue meaning the ammonia has completely evaporated and no longer present in the solution. By titrating the excess, unreacted hydroxide ions with standard hydrochloric acid, it allows us to calculate the amount of unreacted hydroxide ions since the molar ratio is equal, and from this the amount of reacted hydroxide ions with the fertiliser solution can be deduced. Subsequently, the amount of ammonium ions initially present in the 250 cm3 volumetric flask can be found and then the mass of nitrogen ions can be calculated. From this, the percentage by mass of nitrogen in the sample of fertiliser can be found. It was found that the percentage by mass of 1.209 g of fertiliser was 13.87% (? 1.00%). This is very close to the percentage of nitrogen present in the fertiliser as specified by the manufacturer – 12.3%. This discrepancy may be due to several errors and limitations encountered throughout the experiment. The percentage difference of 12.76% is greater than the percentage uncertainty of 6.34% and as a consequence random errors alone cannot alone account for the difference. There must be systematic errors inherent to the investigation or the apparatus. Measurement errors could be the main source of uncertainty. One source of error could be that the exact mass of the fertiliser sample as measured on the electronic balance is not the same as in the volumetric flask, consequently affecting the final result. The loss due to the transfer process into the flask which could be reduced by sufficiently rinsing the apparatus used to transfer, weigh and grind the fertiliser sample ? the funnel, weighing bottle, spatula and mortar and pestle ? so that all sample weighed is transferred into the volumetric flask. Another possible error is that the meniscus of solutions measured was not sitting exactly on the calibration line in the volumetric flask when preparing the standard solution. This may affect the results as the expected volume of the standard solution would differ from the actual volume measured. This can be overcome by allowing more than one individual to test whether or not the meniscus is positioned on the etched mark, making sure it’s at eye level, which will effectively limit this parallax error. The interpretation of the orange colour determined at the end point could also have been another error. Subjective judgment when determining the shade of orange is another factor which may have affected the titre volume, and thus the final outcome. This problem was exacerbated by the fact that the methyl red indicator does not provide a sharp and easily distinguishable end point, as the colour change from yellow to orange. This may be overcome by using another indicator that allows for a clearer colour contrast. Another possible limitation which may have impacted the results is that some ammonia may still have been present in the conical flask. Although the red litmus paper may have served its purpose, this may still occur as a result of not boiling the solution long enough and thus some ammonia may not have evaporated. The result of this is that the ammonia in the solution will react with the hydrochloric acid, and therefore more hydrochloric acid will be required for the equivalence point to be reached, affecting the titre volume. This can be easily overcome by ensuring that the fertiliser solution containing water and sodium hydroxide is boiled for long enough so that all ammonia can evaporate, while simultaneously ensuring that the solution remains at a constant 90mL. The use of tap water may also have affected the results. It may not have been at a pH of 7 or may contain other contaminants such as salts which may ultimately interfere with the results. To overcome this, the most effective way is to use deionised water. Conclusion: It was found that the percentage by mass of nitrogen from the ammonium ion in Bunnings Green Up brand of lawn fertilizer was 13.9% (? 1.00%). This was very close to the percentage of nitrogen in lawn fertiliser as specified by the manufacturer ? 12.3%. Bibliography: 1. Unknown Author, http://www.urbanext.uiuc.edu/lawntalk.htm 2. Chemistry for the International Baccalaureate, 2005, IBID Press

The Future Of Music Is Now - 1317 Words

The future of music is now. Every aspect of the music industry is changing. The ways in which the public discovers, listens, and purchases music are being revolutionized. As Allen Bargfrede, Berklee associate professor of music business, puts it: â€Å"as the music industry evolves and streaming services become the dominant means of listening, recording artists and songwriters’ rights and the flow of money within the industry is the single biggest challenge today s musicians face—.† The internet and its many artist-friendly technologies (YouTube, TuneCore, Bandcamp, Reverbnation, CDbaby and many more services) make it easier for a band to be independent. The tyrannous reign of profit hungry record labels is over; the power, shifted by waves of technological advancements, is now in the hands of the artist. Fifty years ago, the level of exposure that is able to be achieved today by uploading music to the internet is about the same as when a radio station played and replayed a song over and over. Back then people only discovered and listened to music on the radio. If people liked the music, they would purchase physical copies of it in stores because music wasn’t something digital and disposable like it is now in today’s on-demand society. Music was deeply embedded in the collective culture. A physical album was a connection to the artist. George Howard, founder of TuneCore; COO of Daytrotter, Concert Vault, and Paste Magazine says: In the Zeppelin-era, music was inextricablyShow MoreRelatedDoes My Choice In Music Directly Shape My Future?. When1275 Words   |  6 Pageschoice in music directly shape my future? When one listens to music, dopamine levels are slightly increased resulting in a feel good sensation in response to the specific stimuli. 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