Water crisis in the South Asian Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Water crisis in the South Asian - Essay Example This research will begin with the statement that the world is facing severe water crisis and the developing world is suffering an acute shortage of fresh water supply even today. Water is required for a number of daily activities besides drinking and a shortage of water can ultimately lead to food scarcity in certain populous countries of the developing world. The population explosion and lack of planning in the developing world are among the core causes of this rampant situation. According to UN Water, some 1.3 million people are without the access to clean water and certain regions of the world face a threat of water wars. Water scarcity is most pronounced in North America, Middle East, and South Asia. India and Pakistan in South Asia have already fought a war over water supply issues. The cost of drinking water is more than that of gasoline in some of the Middle Eastern countries. This overview of the situation shows that water scarcity is perhaps the most important issue faced by the planet. The freshwater is present mostly in the form of groundwater aquifers. The water in streams and rivers forms a lesser portion of the available water resources. Almost 11 trillion cubic meters of freshwater is available in the world for drinking and other uses, however, this enormous supply of water is not uniformly distributed across the planet. Moreover, the availability of water also varies across the different seasons of the year. Some of the regions in the world receive as low as 500 cubic meters of water per capita per annum of water supply and are labeled as water stressed.

Daily Assignment 8&9 Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

Daily 8 - Assignment Example They claim that paternalism is essential when preferences do not match the choice frame and paternalism is guided by the failure to validate the preference of welfare to liberty. According to Thaler and Sunstein, Paternalism occurs when organizations or planners adopt policies or decisions that have positive impacts on the options of the non-planners. They argue that paternalism is inevitable since people do not want to make their own decisions even after being coerced by planners to do so. People are also unable to assess the benefits of the decisions they make and the planners are always benevolent such that if two options are available and only one is beneficial to both parties, they will adopt that one. Thaler and Sunstein believe that paternalism should not be coercive and morally demeaning. They assume that individuals behave according to the expectations of the economic models and do not act voluntarily and rationally for their own benefit. The argument that 60% of Americans are either obese or overweight shows that they believe that people do not make beneficial decisions. Every human being knows that obesity poses risks to heart attacks, and it would be misguiding if one assumes that most of the Americans choose their diet optimally. They argue that peoples choices are influenced by the legal and organizational

Nuclear Brinkmanship :: essays research papers

â€Å"The world would be a better place if†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Mutual Assured Destruction. Nuclear holocaust. The destruction of whole nations in the blink of an eye. We cannot hide from the threat that nuclear weapons pose to humanity and all life. These are not ordinary weapons, but instruments of mass annihilation that could destroy civilization and end all life on Earth. Nuclear weapons are morally and legally unjustifiable. They destroy indiscriminately - soldiers and civilians; men, women and children; the aged and the newly born; the healthy and the infirm. The world would be a far safer and better place if the Pandora’s Box of nuclear weapons had never been opened. Many historians argue that the United States began the Cold War by ending World War II with the nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan. Four years later, on August 9, 1949, the Soviet Union developed its own nuclear weapons. At the time, both sides lacked the means to effectively use the nuclear devices against each other. However, with the development of aircraft like the B-36 Peacemaker, both sides were gaining more ability to deliver nuclear weapons effectively. The official nuclear policy of the United States was one of "massive retaliation", as coined by President Eisenhower, which called for massive nuclear attack against the Soviet Union if they were to invade Europe. It was only with the advent of ballistic missile submarines, starting with the George Washington class submarine in 1959, that a survivable nuclear force became possible and that a second strike capability became credible. It was generally assumed that any combat in Europe would end wit h apocalyptic conclusions. An idea that has not sunk into the politicians and generals of the nuclear powers skulls is the fact that nuclear weapons are expensive. In 1983, a missile submarine cost more than the education budgets of twenty-three 3rd world countries. A comparison for nuclear weapons would be akin to that of computers: It becomes obsolete very quickly, and the state of the art technology used is astronomically maintenance expensive. Building nuclear weapons is like dumping your money in a hole: It is not going to be coming back. The world would be a far safer place had nuclear weapons not been developed. The possibilities of a small terrorist cell building a nuclear bomb and detonating it in a city are probable within the next twenty years.

You Suck: A Love Story Chapter 21~22

Chapter Twenty-one Ladies and Gentlemen, Presenting the Disappointments He was the best one-handed free-throw shooter in the Bay Area, and that Christmas night he had sunk sixty-four in a row in his driveway hoop, shooting the new leather Spauldingball his dad had left under the tree for him. Sixty-seven in a row, without ever setting down or spilling his beer. His record was seventy-two, and he would have broken it, had he not been dragged off into the bushes to be slaughtered. Jeff Murray was not the smartest of the Animals, nor the most well-born, but when it came to squandering potential, he was the hands-down winner. Jeff had been a star power forward through his sophomore, junior, and senior years in high school, and he had been offered a full-boat ride to Cal, Berkeley – there had even been talk of his going pro after a couple of years in college, but Jeff had decided to impress his prom date by showing her he had enough vertical leap to clear a moving car. It was a minor misjudgment, and he would have cleared the car had he not drunk most of a case of beer before the attempt, and had the car's height not been eight inches enhanced by the light bar on the roof. The light bar just caught Jeff's left sneaker, and somersaulted him four times in the air before he landed upright in a James Brown split on the tarmac. He was pretty sure that his knee wasn't supposed to bend that way, and a team of doctors would later agree. He'd wear a brace forever and he'd never play competitive basketball again. Although he was a smokin' one-handed H.O.R.S.E. player, and he might have even been a champion if it weren't for that slaughtered-in-the-bushes thing. He liked the new leather ball, and he knew he shouldn't be using it on the asphalt, and especially this late at night, when the sound of his dribbling might disturb his neighbors. He lived in a garage apartment in Cow Hollow, and the fog was blowing in damp streams up his street, making the basketball sound lonely and ominous, so no one complained. It was Christmas – if all some poor bastard had was some hoops, then you'd have to be a special kind of heartless to call the cops on him. A car turned at the end of the street; blue halogens swept through the fog like sabers, then went out. Jeff squinted into the fog, but couldn't make out what kind of car it was, only that it had stopped a couple of doors down and it was a dark color. He turned to take his record-breaking shot, but distracted, he put a little too much backspin on the ball and it jumped out of the hoop. He ran it down at the junipers by the garage, but was only able to tip it, so that it went into the bushes. He set his beer down on the driveway and went in after it, and – well, you know†¦ Francis Evelyn Stroud answered the phone on the second ring, as she always did, as it was proper to do. â€Å"Hello.† â€Å"Hi, Mom, It's Jody. Merry Christmas.† â€Å"And to you, darling. You're calling rather late.† â€Å"I know, Mom. I was going to call earlier, but had a thing.† I was a thing, Jody thought. â€Å"A thing? Of course. Did you get the package I sent?† It would be expensive and completely inappropriate, a cashmere business suit, or something in a houndstooth or a herringbone, something worn only by matronly academics or matronly spies with stout poison-dart shoes. And Mother Stroud would have sent it to the old address. â€Å"Yes, I got it. It's lovely. I can't wait to wear it.† â€Å"I sent a leather-bound set of the complete works of Wallace Stegner,† Mother Stroud said. Fuck! Jody kicked at Tommy for making her call. He skipped out of range, waving a scolding finger at her. Of course. Stegner, the Stanford paragon. Mother was one of the first coeds to graduate from Stanford and she never missed an opportunity to point out that Jody hadn't gone there. Jody's father had also gone to Stanford. She was born to Stanford, and yet she had disgraced them by going to San Francisco State, and not finishing. â€Å"Yeah, those will be great, too. I guess they just haven't caught up with me yet.† â€Å"You've moved again?† Mrs. Stroud had lived in the same house in Carmel for thirty years. Carpet and draperies never survived more than two years, but she'd been in the same house. â€Å"Yeah, we needed a little more space. Tommy's working at home now.† â€Å"We? Then you're still with that writer boy?† Mom said ;writer; like it was a fungus. Jody scribbled on a Post-it at the counter: Note: Break Tommy's arms off. Beat him with them. â€Å"Yes. I'm still with Tommy. He's been nominated for a Fulbright. So, did you have a nice Christmas?† â€Å"It was fine. Your sister brought that man.† â€Å"Her husband, Bob, you mean?† Mother Stroud did not care for men since Jody's father had left her for a younger woman. â€Å"Well, whatever his name is.† â€Å"It's Bob, Mom. He went to school with us. You've known him since he was nine.† â€Å"Well, I had a smoked turkey delivered, and a lovely foie-gras-and-wild-mushroom appetizer.† â€Å"You had Christmas catered?† â€Å"Of course.† â€Å"Of course.† Of course. Of course. It would never occur to her that by having Christmas dinner catered, she was making other people work on Christmas. â€Å"Well, I put my present in the mail, Mom. I'd better go. Tommy's being honored at a dinner tonight because of his massive intellect.† â€Å"On Christmas?† Oh, what the fuck. â€Å"He's Jewish.† She could hear the intake of breath on the other end of the phone. This is the light version, Mom, imagine how scandalized you be if I told you he was dead and that I killed him. â€Å"You didn't tell me that.† â€Å"Sure I did. You must be losing details. Gotta go, Mom. I gotta help Tommy get his penis piercing in before the dinner. Bye.† She hung up. Tommy had been dancing naked in front of her for most of the phone call. When she hung up he stopped. â€Å"Did I mention that I worry about your ethical equilibrium?† â€Å"Said the guy who was just playing buff the scrotum with my red scarf while I was making the merry Christmas call to my mother?† â€Å"Admit it. You're a little turned on.† Dr. Drew – Drew McComber, the Ohm-budsman, the resident pharmacist and medical adviser to the Animals, was afraid of the dark. The fear had crept up on him, like a hash brownie, and coldcocked him with an inescapable paranoia after four years on the night crew at the Marina Safeway. Thing was, he awoke in the evening, to the pervasive grow lights in his garage apartment in the Marina, then drove four blocks under the streetlights to the brightly lit Safeway, then got off work in the morning when the sun was well off the horizon, to return to his grow-lit apartment, to sleep with a satin mask in place. He encountered darkness so infrequently that it seemed like a menacing stranger when he did. On Christmas night, round midnight, Drew sat among a jungle of five-foot-tall pot plants in his living room, wearing sunglasses and watching a movie on cable about the special relationship between the lady of an English manor and her chimney sweep. (Because of his work schedule, and the constant demand to stay wasted, Drew found it difficult to keep a girlfriend. Until the Animals found Blue, his sex life had been a largely solitary affair, and (sigh) apparently had become so once again.) Each time the chimney sweep's sooty hand smacked the powdered bottom of the lady of the manor, Drew grieved a little – that dusky handprint on alabaster flank falling like a shadow on his erotic soul. There was arousal, but no joy. Sad and lonely wood did tent his hemp-fiber cargo pants. Then, as if scripted by Erecto, the Generously Endowed Pizza Delivery God of Improbable Trysts, there was a knock at Drew's door. Rather than answer the door directly, Drew adjusted himself and ambled through the ganja forest to a small video screen in his kitchenette – a video peephole. He'd installed it in the days before his doctor had given him the prescription that made him a quasilegal medical marijuana grower (patient complains that reality harshes his mellow – prescribe 2 grams cannabis every three hours by inhalation, ingestion, or suppository). Sure enough, as if he had called in an order, the video screen revealed a pale but pretty blonde standing on his doorstep in a conservative blue cocktail dress and heels. She might have just come from a party or a dinner out – her hair was pinned up with tiny blue bows. She might have shown up to audition for the role of the lady of the manor. Drew keyed the intercom. â€Å"Hi. Are you sure you have the right house?† â€Å"I think so,† said the girl. â€Å"I'm looking for Drew.† She smiled into the camera. Perfect teeth. â€Å"Jeez,† Drew said, then realizing that he had said it allowed, he cleared his throat and said, â€Å"I'll be right there.† He smoothed his erection down, pushed his hair behind his ears, and in five long strides he was through the forest and at the front door. At the last second he remembered the sunglasses, pushed them up on his head, smiled broadly, and threw open the door, releasing a wide beam of ultraviolet light into the night fog. The pretty blonde dropped her smile, then screamed as she burst into flames and leapt out of the light. Drew ran out into the dark to save her. Chapter Twenty-two Being the Chronicles of Abby Normal: Pathetic Nosferatu Noobsicle Well, except for the murder, Christmas was like a slow drag over broken glass – I now truly know the ennui of passing eternity in total boredom – eating and hurling to-furky all day, stuck with Ronnie and Mom until like six, when Jared came over. His father has a fresh family with little crumb-snatcher stepsisters, so they like forget about him as soon as the squealing and presents start in the morning. He spent the whole day rewatching The Nightmare Before Christmas disc in his room and smoking cloves. His room is totally sacrosanct since he told his ‘rents that he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't be masturbating to gay porn if anyone came in. (He's so lucky sometimes – I could stand on my head and flick the bean right there at the dinner table and my mom would be all, â€Å"Honey, Christmas is family time, we should be together† and make me finish in front of everyone.) So, we like watched The Nightmare Before Christmas disc with Mom and Ronnie until they fell asleep on the couch – then Jared and I drew some really cool tribal tattoos on Ronnie's shaved head with Magic Marker, but only like in red and black, so they look real. Then he was all, â€Å"We should go get some coffee – my aunt gave me a hundred-dollar Starbucks gift card for Christmas.† And I hate it when people brag about their Christmas presents, because it's completely shallow and materialistic. So, I was all, â€Å"Yeah, well, I'd love to, but I am now one of the chosen, so I have duties.† And he was all, â€Å"No way, you're Jewish?† And I was all, â€Å"No, I am nosferatu.† And he was all, â€Å"You are not.† And I was all, â€Å"Remember that sexylicious guy from Walgreens. It was him. Well, actually it's the Countess who brought me into the sacred circle of sanguinity.† And he was all, â€Å"You didn't even call me?† â€Å"I'm sorry, Jared, but you are of an inferior species now.† So he goes, â€Å"I know, I totally suck.† And I know he's going to go all tragico-emo on me. So I say, â€Å"Buy me a Mochaccino and I'll reveal to you our dark ways and stuff.† We leave a note saying that Jared has impregnated me and we're running off together to join a satanic cult, so my mother won't panic when she wakes up, because she's totalitarian about leaving notes. Then we head to the SOMA. But apparently, the entire fucking country shuts down on Christmas, slammed under the oppressive iron fist of the baby Jesus, so out of nine Starbucks we try, all are closed. And Jared is all, â€Å"Take me to meet them. I want to be in the dark fold, too.† And I was all, â€Å"No way, loser, your hair is totally flat.† Which it was. He only had the one spike in front, and his sculpting gel had like failed hours ago, so in his PVC raincoat, he kinda looked like a black lacquer coatrack like you see in Chinatown, but that wasn't why I couldn't take him to see the Countess and my Dark Lord. I just couldn't. I knew the Countess would freak out if she saw I was exploiting her exquisite gift to show off for a friend, so I was all, â€Å"It's very secret.† But Jared started to pout and brood at the same time, which he can totally pull off because he practices, so I started to feel like a malodorous soupà §on of mashed assholes, as Lautramont so aptly put it. (Shut up, Lily says it sounds more romantic in French.) So I let him come, but I told him he had to say outside across the street. But when we came around the corner of the Dark Lord's block, there was a guy in a yellow tracksuit standing in the middle of the street. Just standing there, with his hood up and his head down, looking like he was going to stand there forever. And he turned really slow in our direction. Jared was all, â€Å"Wanksta rappa,† in my ear, and he giggled that high-pitched little-girl giggle he does sometimes that's like violence catnip to other guys. (Which is why Jared has to carry a foot-long double-edged dagger in his boot, which he calls his Wolf-fang. Fortunately it doesn't give him any false confidence and he is still a total puss, but he likes the attention he gets when doormen take it away from him at clubs.) Anyway, I think my vampyre senses were, like, on edge, because I could just tell that this wasn't your normal hip-hop guy standing in the middle of a deserted street in a three-hundred-dollar tracksuit at midnight on Christmas night, so I grabbed Jared's arm and pulled him back around the corner. And I'm all, â€Å"Dude. Shields up. Creep. Stealth. Lowest profile.† So we peek around the corner, totally cloaked this time, and the tracksuit guy is like over by the door of the loft, and someone is coming out. It's the crusty old drunk guy with the huge shaved cat, and he has his unit out, like he's going to take a leak, which I could have gone another sixteen years without seeing. And Tracksuit grabs him like he's a rag doll and pulls his head back by the hair, and bites him on the neck. And when he does, I can see that it's not a hip-hop guy at all, but some crusty white vampyre, his fangs were like visible from space. So the huge cat guy is thrashing and screaming and spraying whiz all over the place and I can hear the huge cat hissing behind the door, and Jared grabs me by my messenger bag and starts pulling me away, down the street. So that's all I saw. And Jared was all, â€Å"Whoa.† And I was all, â€Å"Yeah.† And as soon as we got a few blocks away, I pulled out my cell and called the Countess's cell, but it went right to voice mail. So now we're at a special midnight showing of The Nightmare Before Christmas at the Metreon, drinking a huge Diet Coke to calm our nerves while we wait for a return call from my vampyre coven. (Jared forgot his inhaler and has been gasping since we saw the attack. It's so embarrassing. People are like looking, and I've moved a couple of seats over so they won't think I'm giving him a hand job or something.) I am totally overcome with dread and foreboding, and the time passes like a seeping infection on a bad eyebrow piercing. So we wait. I wish we had some pot. More later. Oh yeah, and Mom got me a green Care Bear for Christmas! I totally love it. â€Å"You're sure this is where you left it?† Jody was looking up and down the Embarcadero. There were no people out on the street – the performers and hustlers were long gone. She could hear the Bay Bridge humming in the distance, a foghorn started to low over in Alameda. A BART train burped out of a tunnel onto the street a block away, headed toward the ballpark, empty. A police cruiser turning out of Market Street strafed them with its headlights before heading past the Ferry Building toward Fisherman's Wharf. Tommy waved to the cops. â€Å"Yeah. I was right here and my watch went off. He weighed a ton. It would have taken a bunch of guys to move him.† Jody saw something shining on the bricks near her feet and crouched down to touch the source. Metal filings of some sort. She licked her finger and came up with a coating of yellowish metallic particles on her fingertip. â€Å"Unless someone cut it up.† â€Å"Who would do that? Who would cut a statue up and steal the pieces?† â€Å"Doesn't matter. Maybe thieves, maybe city workers. If someone cut that bronze shell, one of two things happened. If it was daytime, Elijah fried out here in the sun. If it was dark, he's free.† â€Å"It wasn't light, was it?† Jody shook her head. â€Å"I'm guessing no.† She saw a light pattern among the bricks a few steps away and crouched down again. There was a fine, grayish powder between the bricks. She pinched some between her fingers and shook her head. â€Å"For sure no.† â€Å"What? What is that?† She brushed her finger off on her jeans and dug into her jacket pocket. â€Å"Tommy, remember I told you that you didn't drink the whore dry because she wouldn't have been there if you had?† â€Å"Yeah.† â€Å"Well, that's because when a vampire drains someone – when we drain someone, they turn to a fine gray powder. I can't explain why, but it looks like that. Feels like that.† She pointed to the mortar lines between the bricks. Tommy knelt down and touched the powder, looked up. â€Å"How do you know that?† â€Å"You know how I know that?† â€Å"You've killed people.† She shrugged. â€Å"Just a couple. And they were sick. Terminal. They were asking for it, sort of.† â€Å"So that's why you weren't upset about the hooker?† She pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket, then held it behind her back and twisted back and forth looking at her feet, like a little girl being interrogated about how Mommy's lamp got broken. â€Å"Are you mad?† â€Å"I'm a little disappointed.† â€Å"Really? I'm really sorry. You would have done the same thing if you'd been there.† â€Å"I'm just disappointed that you didn't feel that you could trust me.† â€Å"You were having a hard time with your change. I didn't want to bother you.† â€Å"But it wasn't sexual or anything, right?† â€Å"Absolutely not. Purely nutritional.† She didn't think it necessary to tell him about kissing the old man. It would just confuse things. â€Å"Well, I guess it's okay, then. I guess if you had to.† He stood and she ran to him and kissed him. â€Å"I can't tell you how glad I am to have that off my chest.† â€Å"Yeah, well†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Hang on.† She held up a finger and hit the power button on her phone. â€Å"Calling your mom to tell her she was right about your being a tramp?† â€Å"I'm calling the kid.† â€Å"Abby?† â€Å"Yeah. I need to tell her to stay away from our place. Elijah is going to start messing with us like before.† Jody watched as the little icons on her phone showed that it was searching for a signal. â€Å"But she said she wasn't coming by tonight. It's Christmas.† â€Å"I know she said that, but I think she may come by anyway.† â€Å"Why?† â€Å"Well, she has a thing for me, I think. I bit her last night.† â€Å"You bit Abby?† â€Å"Yeah. I told you, I was hurt. I needed – â€Å" â€Å"God, you're such a blood slut.† â€Å"I knew you'd be mad.† â€Å"Well, it's Abby, for fuck's sake. I'm her dark lord.† â€Å"Look, a voice mail.† Elijah Ben Sapir cast the twitching, pee-spraying alcoholic across the street, where he bounced off the metal garage door of the foundry and back out to the curb, where his head knocked the side mirror off an illegally parked Mazda. Then the vampire walked with exaggerated steps, his arms held out from his sides like a bad stage monster to try to keep the urine-sotted velour fabric of his tracksuit from contacting his skin. Although he had experienced all manner of filth and gore in his eight hundred years, and had, in fact, spent whole days hiding naked under loamy soil to escape the sun, he didn't remember being quite so put off as he was at being pissed on by his lunch. Perhaps it was that he only had one set of clothes now, and there was no luxurious yacht with a full wardrobe to retire to, or perhaps it was that he had spent the day between two urine-stained mattresses under an unconscious junkie while police searched the hotel around him. He'd just hit his limit, that's all. He'd known the desk clerk would give him up to the police, so as soon as he had gone to his room, the vampire had hidden his tracksuit in the corner of the closet, gone to mist, then slipped under the door into the next room and in between the mattress and box springs of a semiconscious junkie. He'd gone back to solid just as sunrise put him out for the day. At sundown, he was surprised at how elated he was to find the tracksuit still in the closet, after he fed off the junkie (just a sip) and snapped his neck. (Leaving more or less a greeting card to the homicide inspectors who had attacked him with the others at the yacht club.) Now his precious tracksuit was all covered in whiz and he was furious. He stalked over to where he'd thrown the bum and snatched him up by the ankle. Elijah was not tall by modern standards, but he found that if he held the bum's ankle high above his head, he could shake him sufficiently to get the job done. â€Å"You're not even her minion, are you?† Elijah banged the bum's head against the sidewalk to punctuate his question. â€Å"Please,† said the bum. â€Å"My huge cat – â€Å" Thud, thud, thud on the sidewalk. A little shake. Change, a few bills, a lighter, and a bottle of Johnny Walker rained out of the bum's pockets. â€Å"You're just her little moo cow, aren't you? I tasted her on you.† â€Å"There's a kid,† said the moo cow. â€Å"A spooky little girl. She takes care of them.† â€Å"Them?† Elijah flung the bum against the garage and proceeded to pick up the change and the bills on the sidewalk. The steel door next to the garage door opened and a burly bald man in overalls stepped out on the sidewalk, smacking a lead-tipped tire thumper on his palm. â€Å"You motherfuckers making enough noise out here?† Elijah bared his fangs and hissed at the biker, then leapt to the wall over the garage door and clung there, facedown, above the biker's head. The biker looked up at the vampire, down at the prostrate bum, then at the damaged Mazda. â€Å"Well, okay then,† he said. â€Å"I can see you fellas still have some shit to work out.† He slipped back into the foundry and slammed the door. Elijah dropped to his feet and headed up the street, not even bothering to stop to snap the moo cow's neck. How could he have been so stupid? He wasn't going to terrorize her by killing a food source. He needed to threaten her minion, just as he had with the boy. How could he have known that she'd actually betray him and choose the boy? Turn the boy? It wouldn't happen again. Amid all the anger, the hunger, and the excitement at having a purpose, Elijah Ben Sapir felt a twinge of heartache. He had begun this adventure thinking himself the puppet master; now he was all entangled in the strings. Making mistakes. No worry. He cocked his head and focused. Past the rasping breath of the moo cow, the buildings settling, the Bay Bridge humming, and a thousand hearts beating in the lofts around him, he could hear the retreating steps of the little girl and her friend.

How to Manage and ID Yoshino Cherry

Yoshino Cherry grows quickly to 20 feet, has beautiful bark but is a relatively short-lived tree. It has upright to horizontal branching, making it ideal for planting along walks and over patios. The white to pink flowers blooming in early spring, before the leaves develop, can be damaged by late frosts or very windy conditions. The tree is glorious in flower and has been planted along with Kwanzan Cherry in Washington, D.C. and Macon, Georgia for their annual Cherry Blossom Festivals. Specifics Scientific name: Prunus x yedoensisPronunciation: PROO-nus x yed-oh-EN-sisCommon name: Yoshino CherryFamily: RosaceaeUSDA hardiness zones: 5B through 8AOrigin: not native to North AmericaUses: Bonsai; container or above-ground planter; near a deck or patio; trainable as a standard; specimen; residential street tree Cultivars ‘Akebona’(‘Daybreak’) - flowers softer pink; ‘Perpendens’ - irregularly pendulous branches; ‘Shidare Yoshino’ (‘Perpendens’) - irregularly pendulous branches Description Height: 35 to 45 feetSpread: 30 to 40 feetCrown uniformity: symmetrical canopy with a regular (or smooth) outline, and individuals have more or less identical crown formsCrown shape: round; vase shapeCrown density: moderateGrowth rate: mediumTexture: medium Trunk and Branches Trunk/bark/branches: bark is thin and easily damaged from mechanical impact; droop as the tree grows, and will require pruning for vehicular or pedestrian clearance beneath the canopy; showy trunk; should be grown with a single leader;Pruning requirement: requires pruning to develop strong structureBreakage: resistantCurrent year twig color: brownCurrent year twig thickness: thin Foliage Leaf arrangement: alternateLeaf type: simpleLeaf margin: double serrate; serrateLeaf shape: elliptic oval; oblong; ovateLeaf venation: banchidodrome; pinnateLeaf type and persistence: deciduousLeaf blade length: 2 to 4 inches Culture Light requirement: tree grows in full sunSoil tolerances: clay; loam; sand; acidic; occasionally wet; alkaline; well-drainedDrought tolerance: moderateAerosol salt tolerance: noneSoil salt tolerance: poor In Depth Best used as a specimen or near the deck or patio for shade, Yoshino cherry also works nicely along walks or near a water feature. Not a street or parking lot tree due to drought-sensitivity. Large specimens take on a weeping habit with delicate branchlets arranged on upright-spreading branches affixed to a short, stout trunk. A lovely addition to a sunny spot where a beautiful specimen is needed. Winter form, yellow fall color, and pretty bark make this a year-round favorite. Provide good drainage in an acidic soil for best growth. Crowns become one-sided unless they receive light from all around the plant, so locate in full sun. Select another tree to plant if soil is poorly drained but otherwise Yoshino cherry adapts to clay or loam. Roots should be kept moist and should not be subjected to prolonged drought.

A Modest Proposal, to Save the Country’s Image Examining...

A Modest Proposal, to save the country’s image: Examining the oppression toward the Irish poor A Modest Proposal: For Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland from Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Public was published in 1729 by Jonathan Swift. It was published during an economic crisis and a period where the English developed a great dissatisfaction toward the Irish. The Irish were facing a devastating economic crisis during the 1700s. The Irish faced starvation and Swift wanted to expose the misfortunate lives of the poor in order to have the country striving for change in the lives of each. The English were aware of everything occurring and were not satisfied with how awful†¦show more content†¦Swift clearly states and shows with great imagery what the country was facing at the time. Swift begins by saying, â€Å"It is a melancholy object to those who walk through this great town or travel in the country w hen they see the streets, roads, and cabin doors crowded with the beggars of the female sex, followed by three, four, or six children, all in rags, and importuning every passenger for an alms† (Swift). The Irish were very bad economically and Swift wanted one to feel a sense of sympathy toward them because the Irish had families to care for and could not offer them a healthy safe living. Swift wanted the country thrive to find a solution after he clearly mentioned their hardship and dreadful lives. He describes how the females went out to the streets hoping they would receive money or food to feed their children and themselves. Their lives were nothing compared to the English. The Irish children were described as beggar walking around in rags. The English were the wealthy and the British officials had the power to take action but it seems to Swift that they were not doing anything to better the situation. Swift really wanted the English and the government officials to notice the Irish’s economic living conditions and at the same time feel empathy toward them recognizing how much the Irish needed their help. Imagery helped one see how poverty was pushing females to give into any job in order to sustain a living for their families. SwiftShow MoreRelatedManagement Course: Mba−10 General Management215330 Words   |  862 Pages2. Interaction between the Leader, the Followers the Situation Cohen †¢ Effective Behavior in Organizations, Seventh Edition 11. Leadership: Exerting Influence and Power 94 94 Text Palmer−Dunford−Akin †¢ Managing Organizational Change 2. Images of Managing Change 121 121 147 147 Text 3. Why Organizations Change Text Cohen †¢ Effective Behavior in Organizations, Seventh Edition 14. Initiating Change 174 174 Text iii Cases 221 221 225 The Consolidated Life Case:Read MoreOne Significant Change That Has Occurred in the World Between 1900 and 2005. Explain the Impact This Change Has Made on Our Lives and Why It Is an Important Change.163893 Words   |  656 PagesJean H. Quataert 116 5 The Impact of the Two World Wars in a Century of Violence †¢ John H. Morrow Jr. 161 6 Locating the United States in Twentieth-Century World History †¢ Carl J. Guarneri 213 7 The Technopolitics of Cold War: Toward a Transregional Perspective †¢ Gabrielle Hecht and Paul N. Edwards 271 8 A Century of Environmental Transitions †¢ Richard P. Tucker 315 About the Contributors †¢ 343 _ IN TR OD UC TIO N Michael Adas B y any of theRead MoreDeveloping Management Skills404131 Words   |  1617 PagesKahn Senior Art Director: Janet Slowik Interior Design: Suzanne Duda and Michael Fruhbeis Permissions Project Manager: Shannon Barbe Manager, Cover Visual Research Permissions: Karen Sanatar Manager Central Design: Jayne Conte Cover Art: Getty Images, Inc. Cover Design: Suzanne Duda Lead Media Project Manager: Denise Vaughn Full-Service Project Management: Sharon Anderson/BookMasters, Inc. Composition: Integra Software Services Printer/Binder: Edwards Brothers Cover Printer: Coral Graphics TextRead MoreOrganisational Theory230255 Words   |  922 Pagescopyright material. Figure 2.1 (top left)  © Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS, (top right)  © Edifice/ CORBIS, (bottom left)  © Michael Nicholson/CORBIS, (bottom right)  © Mikael Andersson/Nordic Photos/Getty Images; Figure 2.3  © Sean Justice/The Image Bank/ Getty Images; Figure 2.4  © Bruce Hands/Stone/Getty Images; 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, and 3.5 based on Human relations: rare, medium, or well-done? in Harvard Business Review Vol. 26 No. 1 Harvard Business School Publishing (Roethlisberger, F. J. 1948); Figure 3

19th Century Changes for Europe and America - 1453 Words

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