The Events Of World War II - 1285 Words

The Tenth’s triumphs in Italy were demonstrative of the value of specialized forces. Their success both was very influential in the events of World War II and in proving the value of specialized forces. Once the government saw how effective the focused training of this division was, they realized that a new era had begun. The Tenth Mountain Division started the period of special forces. The men in the division used their mountain climbing skills to formulate a brilliant plot to capture Riva Ridge and Mount Belvedere. One source recounts, â€Å"‘Over a series of patrols and weeks, they secretly scouted routes up the mountain,’ Townsend added. ‘They went up the sheer rock face of both mountains and set up rope installations and secretly†¦show more content†¦When the men of the Tenth returned to America, they were just as revolutionary there as they were on the battlefield. They shaped the future of not only war, but of recreation. These men started ski resorts, founded outdoor education initiatives, and did a lot for the outdoor industries of America. The men of the Tenth Mountain Division were essential in developing and revolutionizing the recreational ski industry in America. Bill Pennington states, â€Å"The 10th Mountain Division connections are everywhere in American skiing, whether it s at Vail Mountain, founded by Sgt. Pete Seibert, of the 10th Mountain Division, or in Vermont, home to the 10th Division veteran Cliff Taylor, the Pied Piper of the short-skis-for-beginners revolution more than 40 years ago† (28). The men of the Tenth Mountain Division came home to reinvent and revolutionize the ski industry in the United States. Former Tenth soldiers also started many outdoor initiatives to educate people about the outdoors and to protect and enjoy the beautiful American wilderness. In Brendan Leonard’s account, he states, â€Å"Soldiers and officers from the 10th Mountain Division returned home, many to the mountains. In the decades following, they pursued different paths, building ski resorts, outdoor education programs, shoe companies, and even the Sierra Club† (29). The Tenth Mountain division was quite impactful in the development of the

Democracy in Civil Disobedience, Slavery in...

The Oppression of Democracy Exposed in Civil Disobedience, Slavery in Massachusetts, Benito Cereno and Bartleby the Scrivener America has long been recognized as a democratic nation, a nation operating under the will of the people. The forefathers of America fought incessantly against British tyranny to start anew in a land of freedom and opportunity. Because America revived the ancient Greek ideology of democracy, the nation was set apart from the rest of the world and was revered for the freedom and justice it provided its people. However, not everyone thinks that American democracy means freedom and liberty. On the contrary, writers such as Henry David Thoreau in Civil Disobedience and Slavery in Massachusetts, along with†¦show more content†¦He feels that those who belong to a democracy are essentially machines controlled by the majority, lacking in ability to make choices for themselves. He then goes farther to compare the majority to slaves, saying, When the majority shall at length vote for the abolition of slavery, it will be because they are indifferent to slavery, or because there is but little slavery left to be abolished . . . . They will then be the only slaves (Thoreau 70). Thoreau repeatedly condemns the democratic system for its lack of morality and tendency to disempower the individual. In Slavery in Massachusetts, Thoreau offers an analogy that seems convincing, but proves to be inadequate. He argues that in a democracy, if the majority vote the devil to be God, the minority will live and behave accordingly, and obey the successful candidate, trusting that sometime or other . . . they may reinstate God (Thoreau 103). Thoreau clearly neglects the converse scenario. What if the minority votes the devil to be God and the majority live accordingly? Which is more just? These questions seem to be better addressed by a less outspoken writer, Herman Melville. In Benito Cereno, Melville presents several symbolic images of democracy. Amasa Delano, the

Review Of The Epic Of Gilgamesh - 1097 Words

N.K. Sandars, The Epic of Gilgamesh, is one of the most well-known stories in literature. Gilgamesh ruled the city of Uruk and one of the most advanced cities during the third millennium B.C. He orders his people to build the strongest walls by protecting them from dangerous attacks. In the Epic, he is described as physically strong, beautiful, and wise ruler of Mesopotamia. Yet, in the beginning, Gilgamesh was uncontrollable of his powers. His people can’t take it anymore and so they prayed to the gods. Anu hears them and sent out Enkidu, a wild man, who battles with Gilgamesh. But Enkidu losses and they later become best friends. Gilgamesh decides to go on a voyage and Enkidu disagrees with him and said that it was too dangerous. They†¦show more content†¦Also, shows strength because the journey was filled with difficult tasks, but manage to conquer them making Gilgamesh a true epic hero. Gilgamesh returns home empty handed, but the people of Uruk admire their kingà ¢â‚¬â„¢s accomplishments and the ethical code of the community was created. In the Epic, the audience can feel that no matter what lies ahead in their everyday lives experiencing pain is natural. The qualities that enable Gilgamesh success is bravery, superhuman strength, and honor. Throughout the story, Gilgamesh exhibits the skills of being a warrior and leader. In the prolog the gods created Gilgamesh as perfection, â€Å"Adad the god of the storm endowed him with courage, the great gods made his beauty perfect, surpassing all others† (Sandars 61). Also, it is said that Gilgamesh is, â€Å"one-third human and two-thirds God.† He is perceived as more than a man with unlimited powers. During the forest journey he has proven to become very courageous Gilgamesh said, â€Å"only the gods live forever †¦, but as for us men, our days are numbered, our occupations are a breath of wind† (71). Gilgamesh is describing that he wants to die with honor because the jou rney isn’t easy, it definitely takes a lot of courage for a man to get what he wants. Gilgamesh is also risking everything he got. During the defeat of Humbaba Gilgamesh reveals that you have to be brave and throw away fear (81). Yet, it all turn around when his good friend Enkidu dies. Gilgamesh has shown a lot of emotions since

Essay on Rhetorical Analysis of a Modest Proposal by...

Johnathan Swift wrote Modest Proposal with the idea to better humanity.. When you first read it you miss what the true message is. You think â€Å"Man this guy is a monster!† or â€Å"He’s sick!†, but once you reach the end the true meaning of the proposal hits you. When Jonathan Swift wrote a Modest Proposal he tried to get his audience to see the problem by taking it and providing an unethical and inhumane solution then using rhetorical devices to bring out people’s emotions. Of the many devices he used the one that brought out my emotions and that stuck out the most was his constant metaphor of comparing or â€Å"labeling† children as stock or the bodies as carcasses. He does this on multiple occasions throughout this proposal. On one occasion he†¦show more content†¦He then goes on to say that his solution to this problem â€Å"†¦will prevent those voluntary abortions, and that horrid practice of women murdering their bastard chil dren, alas! Too frequent among us! Sacrificing the poor innocent babe I double more to avoid the expense than the shame, which would move tears and pity in the most savage and inhumane breasts† (Swift 2). He uses these â€Å"inhumane† images to draw emotion. He then uses logos. He shows that he has â€Å"†¦turned his thoughts for many years upon this important subject†¦Ã¢â‚¬  (Swift 2). The way that he writes is full of logos. He lists his arguments and is actually quite logical. He uses logics in his description of the proposal to show that there is a problem and he provides a logical way to fix it. He uses ethos when he talks about the women murdering their children by saying how it is inhumane, and in most people’s books, unethical and inhumane are under the same category. He also establishes his credibility when he shows that he has thought about it and that he is knowledgeable on the crisis at hand in Ireland. When he states that the abortions and killing of bastard children would draw pity, he tries to show what unethical things are happening. By doing this he makes his point clearer that this is a satire because this â€Å"modest proposal† is more inhumane than an abortion. This is a big time satire in the fact that he exaggeratesShow MoreRelatedRhetorical Analysis Of A Modest Proposal By Jonathan Swift854 Words   |  4 PagesA Modest Proposal† is an essay by Jonathan Swift that gives some type of a solution to the hunger problem in Ireland. Swift espouse an ironic approach that guarantee a surprise ending. At the beginning of the essay, he cornerstones his proposal that will be good for the public and diminish economic troubles. The proposal that Swift advances concerns the selling of poor Irish children to the rich, so that they could suffice as food. 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Fluke, or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings Chapter 3~4 Free Essays

string(50) " grinning back at Nate as he headed out into sun\." CHAPTER THREE A Little Razor Wire Around Heaven The gate to the Papa Lani compound was hanging open when Nate drove up. Not good. Clay was adamant about their always replacing the big Masterlock on the gate when they left the compound. We will write a custom essay sample on Fluke, or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings Chapter 3~4 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Papa Lani was a group of wood-frame buildings on two acres northeast of Lahaina in the middle of a half dozen sugarcane fields that had been donated to Maui Whale by a wealthy woman Clay and Nate affectionately referred to as the â€Å"Old Broad.† The property consisted of six small bungalows that had once been used to board plantation workers but had long since been converted to housing, laboratory, and office space for Clay, Nate, and any assistants, researchers, or film crews who might be working with them for the season. Getting the compound had been a godsend for Maui Whale, given the cost of housing and storage in Lahaina. Clay had named the compound Papa Lani (Hawaiian for â€Å"heaven†) in honor of their good fortune, but someone had left the gate to heaven open, and from what Nate could tell as he drove in, the angel shit had hit the fan. Before he even got out of the truck, Nate saw a beat-up green BMW parked in the compound and a trail of papers leading out of the building they used for an office. He snatched a few of them up as he ran across the sand driveway and up the steps into the little bungalow. Inside was chaos: drawers torn out of filing cabinets, toppled racks of cassette tape – the tapes strewn across the room in great streamers – computers overturned, the sides of their cases open, trailing wires. Nate stood among the mess, not really knowing what to do or even what to look at, feeling violated and on the verge of throwing up. Even if nothing was missing, a lifetime of research had been typhooned around the room. â€Å"Oh, Jah’s sweet mercy,† came a voice from behind him. â€Å"This a bit of fuckery most heinous for sure, mon.† Nate spun and dropped into a martial-arts stance, notwithstanding the fact that he didn’t know any martial arts and that he had loosed a little-girl shriek in the process. The serpent-haired figure of a gorgon was silhouetted in the doorway, and Nate would have screamed again if the figure hadn’t stepped into the light, revealing a lean, bare-chested teenager in surfer shorts and flip-flops, sporting a giant tangle of blond dreadlocks and about six hundred nose rings. â€Å"Cool head main ting, brah, cool head,† the kid almost sang. There was pot and steel drums in his voice, bemusement and youth and two joints’ worth of separation from the rest of reality. Nate went from fear to confusion in an instant. â€Å"What the fuck are you talking about?† â€Å"Relax, brah, no make li’dat. Kona and I come help out.† Nate thought he might feel better if he strangled this kid – just a little frustration strangle to vent some of the shock of the wrecked lab, not a full choke – but instead he said, â€Å"Who are you, and what are you doing here?† â€Å"Kona,† the kid said. â€Å"Dat boss name Clay hire me for the boats dat day before.† â€Å"You’re the kid Clay hired to work with us on the boats?† â€Å"Shoots, mon, I just said that? What, you a ninja, brah?† The kid nodded, his dreads sweeping around his shoulders, and Nate was about to scream at him again when he realized that he was still crouched into his pseudo combat stance and probably looked like a total loon. He stood up, shrugged, then pretended to stretch his neck and roll his head in a cocky way he’d seen boxers do, as if he had just disarmed a very dangerous enemy or something. â€Å"You were supposed to meet Clay down at the dock an hour ago.† â€Å"Some rippin’ sets North Shore, they be callin’ to me this morning.† The kid shrugged. What could he do? Rippin’ sets had called to him. Nate squinted at the surfer, realizing that the kid was speaking some mix of Rasta talk, pidgin, surfspeak and†¦ well, bullshit. â€Å"Stop talking that way, or you’re fired right now.† â€Å"So you ichiban big whale kahuna, like Clay say, hey?† â€Å"Yeah,† Nate said. â€Å"I’m the number-one whale kahuna. You’re fired.† â€Å"Bummah, mon,† The kid said. He shrugged again, turned, and started out the door. â€Å"Jah’s love to ye, brah. Cool runnings,† he sang over his shoulder. â€Å"Wait,† Nate said. The kid spun around, his dreads enveloping his face like a furry octopus attacking a crab. He sputtered a dreadlock out of his mouth and was about to speak. Quinn held up a finger to signal silence. â€Å"Not a word of pidgin, Hawaiian, or Rasta talk, or you’re done.† â€Å"Okay.† The kid waited. Quinn composed himself and looked around at the mess, then at the kid. â€Å"There are papers strewn around all over outside, hanging in the fences, in the bushes. I need you to gather them up and stack them as neatly as you can. Bring them here. Can you do that?† The kid nodded. â€Å"Excellent. I’m Nathan Quinn.† Nate extended his hand to shake. The kid moved across the room and caught Nate’s hand in a powerful grip. The scientist almost winced but instead returned the pressure and tried to smile. â€Å"Pelekekona,† said the kid. â€Å"Call me Kona.† â€Å"Welcome aboard, Kona.† The kid looked around now, looking as if by giving his name he had relinquished some of his power and was suddenly weak, despite the muscles that rippled across his chest and abdomen. â€Å"Who did this?† â€Å"No idea.† Nate picked up a cassette tape that had been pulled out of the spools and wadded into a bird’s nest of brown plastic. â€Å"You go get those papers. I’m going to call the police. That a problem?† Kona shook his head. â€Å"Why would it be?† â€Å"No reason. Grab those papers now. Nothing is trash until I look at it, eh?† â€Å"Overstood, brah,† Kona said, grinning back at Nate as he headed out into sun. You read "Fluke, or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings Chapter 3~4" in category "Essay examples" Once outside, he turned and called, â€Å"Hey, Kahuna Quinn.† â€Å"What?† â€Å"How come them humpies sing like dat?† â€Å"What do you think?† Nate asked, and in the asking there was hope. Despite the fact that the kid was young and irritating and probably stoned, the biologist truly hoped that Kona – unburdened by too much knowledge – would give him the answer. He didn’t care where it came from or how it came (and it would still have to be proved); he just wanted to know, which is what set him apart from the hacks, the wannabes, the backstabbers, and the ego jockeys in the field. Nate just wanted to know. â€Å"I think they trying to shout down Babylon, maybe.† â€Å"You’ll have to explain to me what that means.† â€Å"We fix this fuckery, then we fire up a spliff and think over it, brah.† Five hours later Clay came through the door talking. â€Å"We got some amazing stuff today, Nate. Some of the best cow/calf stuff I’ve ever shot.† Clay was still so excited he almost skipped into the room. â€Å"Okay,† Nate said with a zombielike lack of enthusiasm. He sat in front of his patched-together computer at one of the desks. The office was mostly put back in order, but the open computer case sitting on the desk with wires spread out to a diaspora of refugee drive units told a tale of data gone wild. â€Å"Someone broke in. Tore apart the office.† Clay didn’t want to be concerned. He had great videotape to edit. Suddenly, looking at the fans and wires, it occurred to him that someone might have broken his editing setup. He whirled around to see his forty-two-inch flat-panel monitor leaning against the wall, a long diagonal crack bisected the glass. â€Å"Oh,† he said. â€Å"Oh, jeez.† Amy walked in smiling, â€Å"Nate you won’t believe the – † She pulled up, saw Clay staring at his broken monitor, the computer scattered over Nate’s desk, files stacked here and there where they shouldn’t be. â€Å"Oh,† she said. â€Å"Someone broke in,† Clay said forlornly. She put her hand on Clay’s shoulder. â€Å"Today? In broad daylight?† Nate swiveled around in his chair. â€Å"They went through our living quarters, too. The police have already been here.† He saw Clay staring at his monitor. â€Å"Oh, and that. Sorry, Clay.† â€Å"You guys have insurance, right?† Amy said. Clay didn’t look away from his broken monitor. â€Å"Dr. Quinn, did you pay the insurance?† Clay called Nate  «doctor » only when he wanted to remind him of just how official and absolutely professional they really ought to be. â€Å"Last week. Went out with the boat insurance.† â€Å"Well, then, we’re okay,† Amy said, jostling Clay, squeezing his shoulder, punching his arm, pinching his butt. â€Å"We can order a new monitor tonight, ya big palooka.† she chirped, looking like a goth version of the bluebird of happiness. â€Å"Hey!† Clay grinned, â€Å"Yeah, we’re okay.† He turned to Nate, smiling. â€Å"Anything else broken? Anything missing?† Nate pointed to the wastebasket where a virtual haystack of audiotape was spilling over in tangles. â€Å"That was spread all over the compound along with all the files. We lost most of the tape, going back two years.† Amy stopped being cheerful and looked appropriately concerned. â€Å"What about the digitals?† She elbowed Clay, who was still grinning, and he joined her in gravity. They frowned. (Nate recorded all the audio on analog tape, then transferred it to the computer for analysis. Theoretically, there should be digital copies of everything.) â€Å"These hard drives have been erased. I can’t pull up anything from them.† Nate took a deep breath, sighed, then spun back around in his chair and let his forehead fall against the desk with a thud that shook the whole bungalow. Amy and Clay winced. There were a lot of screws on that desk. Clay said, â€Å"Well, it couldn’t have been that bad, Nate. You got it all cleaned up pretty quickly.† â€Å"The guy you hired showed up late and helped me.† Nate was speaking into the desk, his face right where it had landed. â€Å"Kona? Where is he?† â€Å"I sent him to the lab. I had some film I want to see right away.† â€Å"I knew he wouldn’t stand us up on his first day.† â€Å"Clay, I need to talk to you. Amy, could you excuse us a minute, please?† â€Å"Sure,† Amy said. â€Å"I’ll go see if anything’s missing from my cabin.† She left. Clay said, â€Å"You going to look up? Or should I get down on the floor so I can see your face?† â€Å"Could you grab the first-aid kit while we talk?† â€Å"Screws embedded in your forehead?† â€Å"Feels like four, maybe five.† â€Å"They’re small, though, those little drive-mount screws.† â€Å"Clay, you’re always trying to cheer me up.† â€Å"It’s who I am,† Clay said. CHAPTER FOUR Whale Men of Maui Who Clay was, was a guy who liked things – liked people, liked animals, liked cars, liked boats – who had an almost supernatural ability to spot the likability in almost anyone or anything. When he walked down the streets of Lahaina, he would nod and say hello to sunburned tourist couples in matching aloha wear (people generally considered to be a waste of humanity by most locals), but by the same token he would trade a backhanded hang-loose shaka (thumb and fingers extended, three middle fingers tucked, always backhand if you’re a local) with a crash of native bruddahs in the parking lot of the ABC Store and get no scowls or pidgin curses, as would most haoles. People could sense that Clay liked them, as could animals, which was probably why Clay was still alive. Twenty-five years in the water with hunters and giants, and the worst he’d come out of it was to get a close tail-wash from a southern right whale that tumbled him like a cartoon into the idl ing prop of a Zodiac. (Oh, there were the two times he was drowned and the hypothermia, but that stuff wasn’t caused by the animals; that was the sea, and she’ll kill you whether you liked her or not, which Clay did.) Doing what he wanted to do and his boundless affinity for everything made Clay Demodocus a happy guy, but he was also shrewd enough not to be too open about his happiness. Animals might put up with that smiley shit, but people will eventually kill you for it. â€Å"How’s the new kid?† Clay said, trying to distract from the iodine he was applying to Nate’s forehead while simultaneously calculating the time to ship his new monitor over to Maui from the discount house in Seattle. Clay liked gadgets. â€Å"He’s a criminal,† Nate said. â€Å"He’ll come around. He’s a water guy.† For Clay this said it all. You were a water guy or you weren’t. If you weren’t†¦ well, you were pretty much useless, weren’t you? â€Å"He was an hour late, and he showed up in the wrong place.† â€Å"He’s a native. He’ll help us deal with the whale cops.† â€Å"He’s not a native, he’s blond, Clay. He’s more of a haole than you are, for Christ’s sake.† â€Å"He’ll come around. I was right about Amy, wasn’t I?† Clay said. He liked the new kid, Kona, despite the employment interview, which had gone like this: Clay sat with the forty-two-inch monitor at his back, his world-famous photographs of whales and pinnipeds playing in a slide show behind him. Since he was conducting a job interview, he had put on his very best $5.99 ABC Store flip-flops. Kona stood in the middle of the office wearing sunglasses, his baggies, and, since he was applying for a job, a red-dirt-dyed shirt. â€Å"Your application says that your name is Pelke – ah, Pelekekona Ke – † Clay threw his hands up in surrender. â€Å"I be called Pelekekona Keohokalole – da warrior kine – Lion of Zion, brah.† â€Å"Can I call you Pele?† â€Å"Kona,† Kona said. â€Å"It says on your driver’s license that your name is Preston Applebaum and you’re from New Jersey.† â€Å"I be one hundred percent Hawaiian. Kona the best boat hand in the Island, yeah. I figga I be number-one good man for to keep track haole science boss’s isms and skisms while he out oppressing the native bruddahs and stealing our land and the best wahines. Sovereignty now, but after a bruddah make his rent, don’t you know?† Clay grinned at the blond kid. â€Å"You’re just a mess, aren’t you?† Kona lost his Rastafarian, laid-backness. â€Å"Look, I was born here when my parents were on vacation. I really am Hawaiian, kinda, and I really need this job. I’m going to lose my place to live if I don’t make some money this week. I can’t live on the beach in Paia again. All my shit got stolen last time.† â€Å"It says here that you last worked as a forensic calligrapher. What’s that, handwriting analysis?† â€Å"Uh, no, actually, it was a business I started where I would write people’s suicide notes for them.† Not a hint of pidgin in his speech, not a skankin’ smidgen of reggae. â€Å"It didn’t do that well. No one wants to kill himself in Hawaii. I think if I’d started it back in New Jersey, or maybe Portland, it would have gone over really well. You know business: location, location, location.† â€Å"I thought that was real estate.† Clay actually felt a twinge of missed opportunity, here, for although he had spent his life having adventures, doing exactly what he wanted to do, and although he often felt like the dumbest guy in the room (because he’d surrounded himself with scientists), now, talking to Kona, he realized that he had never realized his full potential as a self-deluded blockhead. Ahhh†¦ wistful regrets. Clay liked this kid. â€Å"Look, I’m a water guy,† Kona said. â€Å"I know boats, I know tides, I know waves, I love the ocean.† â€Å"You afraid of it?† Clay asked. â€Å"Terrified.† â€Å"Good. Meet me at the dock tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.† Now Nate rubbed at the crisscrrossed band-aids on his forehead as Clay went through the Pelican cases of camera equipment under the table across the room. The break-in and subsequent shit storm of activity had sidetracked him from what he’d seen this morning. It started to settle on him again like a black cloud of self-doubt, and he wondered whether he should even mention what he saw to Clay. In the world of behavioral biology, nothing existed until it was published. It didn’t matter how much you knew – it wasn’t real if it didn’t appear in a scientific journal. But when it came to day-to-day life, publication was secondary. If he told Clay what he’d seen, it would suddenly become real. As with his attraction for Amy and the realization that years’ worth of research was gone, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be real. â€Å"So why did you need to send Amy out?† Clay asked. â€Å"Clay, I don’t see things I don’t see, right? I mean, in all the time we’ve worked together, I haven’t called something before the data backed it up, right?† Clay looked up from his inventory to see the expression of consternation on his friend’s face. â€Å"Look, Nate, if the kid bothers you that much, we can find someone else –  » â€Å"It’s not the kid.† Nate seemed to be weighing what he was going to say, not sure if he should say it, then blurted out, â€Å"Clay, I think I saw writing on the tail flukes of that singer this morning.† â€Å"What, like a pattern of scars that look like letters? I’ve seen that. I have a dolphin shot that shows tooth rakings on the animal’s side that appear to spell out the word ‘zap.  » â€Å"No it was different. Not scars. It said, ‘Bite me. â€Å" â€Å"Uh-huh,† Clay said, trying not to make it sound as if he thought his friend was nuts. â€Å"Well, this break-in, Nate, it’s shaken us all up.† â€Å"This was before that. Oh, I don’t know. Look, I think it’s on the film I shot. That’s why I came in to take the film to the lab. Then I found this mess, so I sent the kid to the lab with my truck, even though I’m pretty sure he’s a criminal. Let’s table it until he gets back with the film, okay?† Nate turned and stared at the deskful of wires and parts, as if he’d quickly floated off into his own thoughts. Clay nodded. He’d spent whole days in the same twenty-three-foot boat with the lanky scientist, and nothing more had passed between the two than the exchange of â€Å"Sandwich?† â€Å"Thanks.† When Nate was ready to tell him more, he would. In the meantime he would not press. You don’t hurry a thinker, and you don’t talk to him when he’s thinking. It’s just inconsiderate. â€Å"What are you thinking?† Clay asked. Okay, he could be inconsiderate sometimes. His giant monitor was broken, and he was traumatized. â€Å"I’m thinking that we’re going to have to start over on a lot of these studies. Every piece of magnetic media in this place has been scrambled, but as far as I can tell, nothing is missing. Why would someone do that, Clay?† â€Å"Kids,† Clay said, inspecting a Nikon lens for damage. â€Å"None of my stuff is missing, and except for the monitor it seems okay.† â€Å"Right, your stuff.† â€Å"Yeah, my stuff.† â€Å"Your stuff is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, Clay. Why wouldn’t kids take your stuff? No one doesn’t know that Nikon equipment is expensive, and no one on the island doesn’t know that underwater housings are expensive, so who would just destroy the tapes and disks and leave everything?† Clay put down the lens and stood up. â€Å"Wrong question.† â€Å"How is that the wrong question?† â€Å"The question is, who could possibly care about our research other than us, the Old Broad, and a dozen or so biologists and whale huggers in the entire world? Face it, Nate, no one gives a damn about singing whales. There’s no motive. The question is, who cares?† Nate slumped in his chair. Clay was right. No one did care. People, the world, cared about the numbers of whales, so the survey guys, the whale counters, they actually collected data that people cared about. Why? Because if you knew how many whales you had, you knew how many you could or could not kill. People loved and understood and thought they could prove points and make money with the numbers. Behavior†¦ well, behavior was squishy stuff used to entertain fourth-graders on Cable in the Classroom. â€Å"We were really close, Clay,† Nate said. â€Å"There’s something in the song that we’re missing. But without the tapes†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Clay shrugged. â€Å"You heard one song, you heard ’em all.† Which was also true. All the males sang the same song each season. The song might change from season to season, or even evolve through the season somewhat, but in any given population of humpbacks, they were all singing the same tune. No one had figured out exactly why. â€Å"We’ll get new samples.† â€Å"I’d already cleaned up the spectrographs, filtered them, analyzed them. It was all on the hard disks. That work was for specific samples.† â€Å"We’ll do it again, Nate. We have time. No one is waiting. No one cares.† â€Å"You don’t have to keep saying that.† â€Å"Well, it’s starting to bother me, too, now,† Clay said. â€Å"Who in the hell cares whether you figure out what’s going on with humpback song?† A kicked-off flip-flop flew into the room followed by the singsong Rastafarian-bruddah pomp of Kona returning, â€Å"Irie, Clay, me dready. I be bringing films and herb for the evening to welcome to Jah’s mercy, mon. Peace.† Kona stood there, an envelope of negatives and contact sheet in one hand, a film can held high above his head in the other. He was looking up to it as if it held the elixir of life. â€Å"You have any idea what he said?† Nate asked. He quickly crossed the room and snatched the negatives away from Kona. â€Å"I think it’s from the ‘Jabberwocky, † Clay replied. â€Å"You gave him cash to get the film processed? You can’t give him cash.† â€Å"And this lonely stash can to fill with the sacred herb,† Kona said. â€Å"I’ll find me papers, and we can take the ship home to Zion, mon.† â€Å"You can’t give him money and an empty film can, Nate. He sees it as a religious duty to fill it up.† Nate had pulled the contact sheet out of the envelope and was examining it with a loupe. He checked it twice, counting each frame, checking the registry numbers along the edge. Frame twenty-six wasn’t there. He held the plastic page of negatives up to the light, looked through the images twice and the registry numbers on the edges three times before he threw them down, checked the earlier frames that Amy had shot of the whale tail, then crossed the room and grabbed Kona by the shoulders. â€Å"Where’s frame twenty-six, goddamn it? What did you do with it?† â€Å"This just like I get it, mon. I didn’t do nothing.† â€Å"He’s a criminal, Clay,† Nate said. Then he grabbed the phone and called the lab. All they could tell him was that the film had been processed normally and picked up from the bin in front. A machine cut the negatives before they went into the sleeves – perhaps it had snipped off the frame. They’d be happy to give Nate a fresh roll of film for his trouble. Two hours later Nate sat at the desk, holding a pen and looking at a sheet of paper. Just looking at it. The room was dark except for the desk lamp, which reached out just far enough to leave darkness in all the corners where the unknown could hide. There was a nightstand, the desk, the chair, and a single bed with a trunk set at its end, a blanket on top as a cushion. Nathan Quinn was a tall man, and his feet hung off the end of the bed. He found that if he removed the supporting trunk, he dreamed of foundering in blue-water ocean and woke up gasping. The trunk was full of books, journals, and blankets, none of which had ever been removed since he’d shipped them to the island nine years ago. A centipede the size of a Pontiac had once lived in the bottom-right corner of the trunk but had long since moved on once he realized that no one was ever going to bother him, so he could stand up on his hind hundred feet, hiss like a pissed cat, and deliver a deadly bite to a naked foot. There was a small television, a clock radio, a small kitchenette with two burners and a microwave, two full bookshelves under the window that looked out onto the compound, and a yellowed print of two of Gauguin’s Tahitian girls between the windows over the bed. At one time, before the plantations had been automated, ten people probably slept in this room. In grad school at UC Santa Cruz, Nathan Quinn had lived in quarters about this same size. Progress. The paper on Nate’s desk was empty, the bottle of Myers’s Dark Rum beside it half empty. The door and windows were open, and Nate could hear the warm trades rattling the fronds of two tall coconut palms out front. There was a tap on the door, and Nate looked up to see Amy silhouetted in the doorway. She stepped into the light. â€Å"Nathan, can I come in?† She was wearing a T-shirt dress that hit her about midthigh. Nate put his hand over the paper, embarrassed that there was nothing written on it. â€Å"I was just trying to put a plan together for – † He looked past the paper to the bottle, then back at Amy. â€Å"Do you want a drink?† He picked up the bottle, looked around for a glass, then just held the bottle out to her. Amy shook her head. â€Å"Are you all right?† â€Å"I started this work when I was your age. I don’t know if I have the energy to start it all over again.† â€Å"It’s a lot of work. I’m really sorry this happened.† â€Å"Why? You didn’t do it. I was close, Amy. There’s something that I’ve been missing, but I was close.† â€Å"It will still be there. You know, we have the field notes from the last couple of years. I’ll help you put as much of it back together as I can.† â€Å"I know you will, but Clay’s right. Nobody cares. I should have gone into biochemistry or become an ecowarrior or something.† â€Å"I care.† Nate looked at her feet to avoid looking her in the eye. â€Å"I know you do. But without the recordings†¦ well – then†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He shrugged and took a sip from the rum bottle. â€Å"You can’t drink, you know,† he said, now the professor, now the Ph.D., now the head researcher. â€Å"You can’t do anything or have anything in your life that gets in the way of researching whales.† â€Å"Okay,† Amy said. â€Å"I just wanted to see if you were okay.† â€Å"Yeah, I’m okay.† â€Å"We’ll get started putting it back together tomorrow. Good night, Nate.† She backed out the door. â€Å"Night, Amy.† Nate noticed that she wasn’t wearing anything under the T-shirt dress and felt sleazy for it. He turned his attention back to his blank piece of paper, and before he could figure out why, he wrote BITE ME in big block letters and underlined it so hard that he ripped the page. How to cite Fluke, or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings Chapter 3~4, Essay examples

Reeling In Catch 22 Essay Example For Students

Reeling In Catch 22 Essay Since the dawn of literature and drama, comedyand tragedy have always been partitioned into separate genres. Certainly mosttragedies had comedic moments, and even the zaniest comedies were at timesserious. However, even the development of said tragicomedies left the divisionmore or less intact. Integrating a total comedy and a total tragedy into aholistic union that not only preserved both features, but also blended them intoa new and harmonious entity remained elusive. That is, until Catch-22. Using hisunique style and structure, Joseph Heller masterfully manages to interlay humorand terror, comedy and tragedy, and reveals in the process the perversions ofthe human character and of society gone mad. The first stroke of Hellers defttouch is his presentation of outrageous characters, acting outrageously. Fromthe first chapter, we are presented with a slew of unbelievable characters whoseactions and ideologies are uproariously funny, and horrifically disturbing. Infact, the manner in w hich the reader recognizes the characters dual nature willserve as the first example of Hellers amalgamation of comedy and tragedy. Dunbars theory of life is first received with a burst of laughter from theaudience. Life is short, and Dunbar wishes to extend it as much as possible. Iftime flies when one is having fun, then conversely, time must slow when one isbored. Dunbar endeavors to make his life as boring as possible, thus increasingthe length of its passing. Indeed, it is understandable why such an attitudeshould elicit a laugh, but the further implications are horrific. Societysemphasis on life over meaning comes as a shocking revelation to the audience. Heller further reinforces that idea with characters such as Doc Daneeka, whovalues self-preservation and money over responsibility and friendship, and Milowho values self-improvement and fortune over the lives of thousands of others. The motif that follows gives us characters that are, above all else, moreinterested in self (Cathcart, Mrs. Daneeka, Duckett, the Old Man, Peckem, etc.). Though they are initially humorous, their nature is ultimately revealed to befalse and horrific, arousing disgust and pity, a brilliant combination of comedyand tragedy. The perversion of society is revealed further in a second majortype of character, the deluded. Though most serve largely as foils to Yossarianand his philosophy, much can still be made of their condition. Clevinger isperhaps the best example of a deluded character. His debate with Yossarianserves as an insightful evaluation of their psyche. He argues that, althougheveryone is trying to kill him, everyone is not trying to kill him. The humor ofthe debate cannot be denied, but horror and tragedy are equally present. Thedebate leaves the audience struggling to decide who is crazy. Clevinger fallsinto an obvious contradiction, but his argument still strikes as common sense. In face of Yossarians triumphant What difference does that make?the audience is left not only with the realization of its speciousness, but ofthe realization that they believed it. The terror evoked by the deluded liesmainly in that the audience is equally deluded. Perhaps Clevinger, Appleby, andHavermeyer are fighting for what they have been told was theircountry and perhaps so has the audience. The genius of Hellerscharacterization is further enhanced as the audience sees itself in the hollowrationale of the deluded, and is aghast with horror, even in face of such humor. With this revelation, Heller compels the audience to follow the rebellious pathof Yossarian, or fall victim to the indoctrination of society, and meet the samefate as the deluded. As the audience is bombarded with insanely comedic ironiesof Catch-22, they are further aware of its horror. A primary example of irony isfound in Milo, when he is praised for bombing his own company when it is learnedthat he made a great deal of money. Again, this evokes a staunch laugh, and thenleaves the audience aghast with horror. Exaggeration makes this funny an eventsuch as this occurring, and then inciting such a reaction by those affected isalmost unfathomable but the ultimate truth provides the terror. Society trulydoes reward persons for profit, even if it results, as it often does, interrible distress. The further instances of ridiculously backward behaviorHungry Joes screaming, Havermeyers disregard for life, McWatts destructiveflying, Cathcarts list, etc. further provide the audience withhumor ous instances of exaggeration, whose ultimate truth proves to behorrifying. Hellers blend of hyperbole and truth create a horrifying, thoughcomedic, charge for his irony. Perhaps the most memorable attribute of Catch-22is its mind-boggling paradoxes, or, as they are more commonly referred to,catches. These paradoxes range from the harmlessly absurd, to the insanelycatastrophic. When Yossarian and his friends begin asking clever questions todisrupt boring educational sessions, Colonel Korn decides that only those whonever ask questions may ask questions. When they want to discuss a problem withMajor Major, they are allowed into his office only when he is out. Even whenYossarian is offered an apparently harmless deal that would allow him to go homeas a hero, there is a catch. He must betray his friends by praising the officerswho caused many of them to die. And as Heller shows, life is reduced to onefrustrating paradox after another. The most notable instance of the paradox isCatch-22 . The first solid reference is Doc Daneekas version, presented toYossarian on the matter of groundings. To be grounded, one must be insane, butone must also ask to be grounded. However, asking to be grounded shows thedesire for self-preservation, a sure sign of sanity. For, if one were trulyinsane, one would fly the missions voluntarily. Thus, no one is grounded. Thisis striking for its sophistry and circularity, and is certainly humorous, butits implications are equally grotesque more and more deaths. As the novelcontinues, the paradoxes remain equally humorous, but their implications evenmore gruesome. The Catch decays, moving into the civilian world with the Lucianamarriage conundrum. Later, it appears with official regulation stating thatones orders must be obeyed, even if they conflict with official regulation. .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 , .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .postImageUrl , .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 , .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:hover , .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:visited , .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:active { border:0!important; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:active , .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66 .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .udc298cbcb96dfc41178dd1c4b18eaf66:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Freud And Dreams EssayFinally, the truth of Catch-22 is revealed in the MPs destructive and inhumanerendition, they can do whatever you cant stop them from doing. Ultimately,Catch-22 is the unwritten loophole that empowers authorities to revoke yourrights whenever it suits their cruel whims. It is, in short, the principle ofabsolute evil in a malevolent and incompetent world. As humorous as Catch-22 is(initially at least), the horror intertwined with it is strikingly evident. Likely the most important element of Catch-22 is its absurdity. Absurditypervades the novel, creating dually humor and terror. The absurd Lt., Col.,Gen., Sheishkopffs obsession with parades is quite droll. Again, however, theimplications are ghastly. Sheishkopff views his soldiers as puppets, wanting atone point to wire them together to create a perfectly precise machine. Thisreflects societys insane obsession with order and conformity, even at the costof individuality and humanity. A further example of such dehumanizing absurdityoccurs at the hospital. Yossarian has suffered a leg injury and is told to takebetter care of his leg because it is government property. Soldiers, therefore,are not even people, but simply property that can be listed on an inventory. Ina bureaucracy, as Heller shows, individuality does not matter. Maybe the mostabsurd character in the novel is Colonel Cathcart. He continually raises thenumber of missions for no other reason than personal prestige. Though hea chieves nothing by this, he continually persists. Cathcarts absurd drive forprestige is again emphasized in the Saturday Evening Post incident. He tries tocopy another squadrons prayer meetings, not for morale, but for the absurdthought that he will be featured in the Saturday Evening Post. Even his reasonfor not going forward is absurd; he refuses to accept the enlisted men prayingto the same God as the officers. Perhaps Cathcarts most ridiculously absurdaction is his List. Ultimately, his career is measured out inBlack Eyes and Feathers in His Cap rather than insuccess, morale, or human life. Cathcart remains one of the novels funniestcharacters, but his essential inhumanity and selfishness creates an equallycontemptible character. Cathcart presents another example of Hellers beautifulweaving of comedy and tragedy. Final examples of the horrifically humorousabsurdity of the novel are the death scenes. Clevinger is the first to make hisdeparture, flying into a cloud and never retur ning. The unreasonable logisticsof his demise are certain to garner laughs. Likewise, Kid Sampsons gruesomedeath at the blades of a propeller followed by McWatts suicide issadistically funny. The absurdity of Dunbar being disappeared cloaksits awful truth. Even life and death can be at the whim of the army bureaucracy,as demonstrated by Mudds life, and Daneekas death. Atthe outset these deaths are indeed comically absurd, but the basic horror of itis enough to make one nauseous. Absurdity represents one of Hellers mostskillful blends of comedy and tragedy in the entire novel. Though seeminglyirreconcilable genres, horror and tragedy are nimbly fused into a whole creationby Hellers unique style and structure. Heller creates situations where theaudience laughs, and then must look back in horror at what they were laughingat. Through brilliant characterizations, superb irony, mind-boggling paradoxes,and ingenious absurdity, Heller manages interlay humor and terror, comedy andtragedy int o a beautiful whole as Catch-22.