Case Study Apple s Logo - 1470 Words

Apple’s logo is one of the most recognizable in the world. If asked to describe the picture on the back of an iPhone or a Mac, almost anyone would quickly explain the apple with a bite out of it. With ingenious men behind the brand and a 1984 themed first commercial, it only takes a moment to realize that there is probably a story behind the famous trademark. Despite this seemingly obvious conclusion, there was apparently no premeditated meaning hidden within the apple. Even still, it has developed a life of its own, full of significance. In every aspect of the business, from the technological developments to public displays of the brand, Steve Jobs held complete control; therefore, his choice of the simple logo and his reactions, or lack of reactions, to the theories surrounding it confirm that while none were intended in the design, they became intentional parts of the branding. When Jobs was working on an earlier startup, NeXT, he spent $100,000 on the design of a symbol fr om a highly acclaimed designer, showing that he placed the highest priority on branding (Schlender and Tetzeli 6-7). NeXT could not last, in part due to the money spent on the logo, and Jobs moved on to Apple. For the initial design of the Apple logo, an intricate sketch of Newton with a tree, a glowing apple, and the caption â€Å"Newton — A Mind Forever Voyaging Through Strange Seas of Thought, Alone.† was chosen (Butcher 72). Although Jobs fell in love with this initial design, when the prototypeShow MoreRelatedSamsung Electronics : The Worlds Largest Technology Company1469 Words   |  6 PagesEngineering, Heavy Industries, Hotels and Resorts: all these seem unknown by people as it’s not the main power that resides in people’s mind when they hear Samsung. Samsung Electronics Ltd - the world s largest technology company by sales is seen much in the news lately by being a ‘Titan Industry’ battling Apple in sales of portable digital devices and for instance other chaebols in Asian Industry such as: LG, Lenovo and Hyundai (Goldsborough and Reid, 2013). Coming to its products, Samsung is proud ofRead MoreApple Store Fifth Avenue, Us1656 Words   |  7 Pages Apple Store Fifth Avenue, US Apple Store 5th Avenue, USA  Information provided in the following document represents the opinion of its sole author based on the information obtained from various internet and literature sources, it does not represent the opinion of Apple Inc. or any of its affiliates, and it does not reiterate any confidential information obtained during employment with Apple Inc. and its affiliates. Case and materials discussed are based onRead MoreAnalysis of the Starbucks Logo1256 Words   |  6 PagesThe Starbucks logo is a very interesting logo, known all over the world because of the coffee company’s popularity. The logo contains two stars on both sides of the symbol. In the middle there is a mermaid with another star on crown on her head. I read a little bit about the logo on the internet and the logo has gone through changes over the past years. It mostly stays the same but the siren in the center has gone through changes. The green and black colors have stayed the same over the years haveRead MoreSteve Jobs And The World1518 Words   |  7 PagesSteve Jobs Steve Jobs does that ring a bell well it should, as he is the reason for most of the gadgets in your pocket and hands. Steve Jobs is the founder and was the CEO of Apple. With out him most of you would have no iPads,iPhones,iPods and iOS or you could be a Samsung person.Steve has revolutionized technology and Communion throughout the world. His importance To me is that with out him I would not be typing and my normal days would be extremely different. Those are the reasons why heRead MoreApple Inc. Business Report1406 Words   |  6 PagesApple Inc. Business Report Apple Inc. is one of the largest U.S. corporations and a living legend of the computer world. This is a multinational corporation that designs consumer electronics, software, and personal computers on the market. Well-known hardware products include the best line of computers Macintosh, IPod, iPhone and IPad. It has a logo of bitten apple and associated brand name. The brand was officially registered by Steve JobsRead MoreMore than just a graphic: The role of a logo in brand building 1186 Words   |  5 Pagescommunicate about it with the market. These evolved symbols are known as logos. Today every organization needs a logo and with time the importance of this need has risen and still continues to rise. There is a reason why a thoughtful logo is important for a company, and how it affects any company’s image. A logo in technical terms might just be a graphic, but it is its functionality which makes it more than just a graphic. A logo is a graphic which is generated to represent the identity of an organizationRead MoreCase Study on Nike (Marketing)1526 Words   |  7 PagesOVERVIEW OF THE CASE Nike is a major publicly traded sportswear, footwear and equipment supplier based in the US which was founded in 1962 originally known as Blue Ribbon Sports. Nike is the world leader in the manufacturing of sportswear and gear with more than 47 market shares across the global. Nike produces a wide range of sports equipment such as running shoes, sportswear, football, basketball, tennis, golf, etc. Now Nike follows the global fashion trends and is well known and popular in theRead MoreStuden Brand Comparison Betwen Apple and Samsung14106 Words   |  57 PagesBrand Preferences Between Apple and Samsung Smartphone Master Thesis Tutor: Carl G Thunman Group 2901 Maha Al Azzawi Mac Anthony Nzube Ezeh (mai11002) (meh08001) ABSTRACT Date University Course Authors Tutor Examiner Title May 2012 Mà ¤lardalen University School of Sustainable Development of Society and Technology Master Thesis, EFO 705 Maha Al-azzawi Mac Anthony Carl G Thunman Ole Liljefors Students Brand Preferences between Apple and Samsung Smartphone Purpose of the Study Methodology ConclusionRead MoreThe Firm Htc Presentation Script1475 Words   |  6 Pagesphone now. Let s start to think about the implication from the case study on HTC as a pioneer in smart phone industry. At first we are going to talk the purpose and course of this case. The second we gonna talk is the firm introduction, the third one is the summary of network industry and then we gonna analyze the main issue on this case and strategy of HTC. At the last, we gonna show the present business status of HTC. The first chapter is the purpose and course of HTC. The case analysis whatRead MoreEssay on Using Semiotics for Branding 1261 Words   |  6 Pagestogether. According to Pamela Kufahl, this creates a branding identity (43). A logo is usually used on all pieces of marketing material, especially those of a company that focuses on their brand. William Ryan and Theodore Conover write, â€Å"Logotypes tie seamlessly to identity and branding† (393). In the case of Nike Inc., the â€Å"swoosh† can be identified in nations all across the world in any color. Pamela Kufahl states, â€Å"Logos are the utmost importance in maintaining a common look to your marketing pieces†

A Research Study On Finance And Economics - 2006 Words

Two years ago while I offered a research job at Cambridge in applied economics, one of my friends jokingly quipped that one day I would be the next Raghuram Rajan, who had just taken over as the Governor of the Reserve Bank of India following his academic position. I smiled as I had then not considered the possibility of becoming an academic who could wield such power in designing policies to govern the financial institution of the world s largest democracy. In retrospect, this does not seem very far from the truth with respect to my long-term career goals. I consider it a privilege to contribute meaningful work that would improve the financial standards in my country. My interest in a quantitative field like finance and economics comes as no surprise, since Mathematics is one of my favorite subjects and my forte right from secondary school. The power of these subjects to cater to practical applications in the real-world setting led to my close involvement with them, which was also i nstrumental for my qualifying for the Indian National Mathematics Olympiad. For my undergraduate studies, I chose Mechanical Engineering over the other options, at one of the top universities for this discipline in my country, due to its significant quantitative content and for the possibility of applying those tools to solving complex problems, which I did. The rigorous pure math training spanning 3 semesters including topics in linear and vector algebra, multivariate calculus, differentialShow MoreRelatedFinancial Statement Thesis Statement767 Words   |  4 PagesSchool will help my professional experience and academic training come together in the long term - My long term career goal is to become a Finance Professor to teach, conduct research, and produce research publications that would add value and contribute to my field of specialization. At Carroll School, I intend to concentrate in Behavior Finance and Comparative Study between Developed and Emerging Financial Markets. I have over 15 years stock investment experience in Chinese Stock Exchanges, 10 yearsRead MoreEssay on MBA detail course outline1314 Words   |  6 PagesEffective : Spring Quarter 2011 Human Resource Management Finance Accounting Banking Finance †¢ Organizational Communication †¢ Organizational Communication †¢ Organizational Communication †¢ Organizational Communication †¢ Principles of Management †¢ Principles of Management †¢ Principles of Management †¢ Principles of Management †¢ Research Methods †¢ Research Methods †¢ Research Methods †¢ Research Methods †¢ Organization Theory †¢ Organization Theory †¢Read MoreThe Impact Of Finance On Real Estate Assets And The Economic Outlook Of The Entire World Economy946 Words   |  4 Pagesfascinated me was the influence of finance on real estate assets and the economic outlook of the entire world economy. Studying modules such as, Financial Markets, Multinational Financial Management, Financial Statistics, Mathematics and Economics at university level was the revelation that perfectly matched my ambition in what I wanted to do. Studying the different factors that influence financial markets, organisations and entire nations is combining my interests for Finance to the balance I aimed forRead MoreResearch Proposal1706 Words   |  7 PagesMOI UNIVERSITY MAIN CAMPUS SCHOOL OF BUSINESS AND ECONOMICS DEPARTMENT OF ECONOMICS. Course: RESEARCH METHODS Course code: ECO 217 Task: GROUP ASSIGNMENT NAMES REG. NO. SIGN 1. HUSSEIN IBRAHIM ABDIRAHMAN ECO/201/O9 †¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ 2. THIONG AGUTORead MoreThe Timeliness Of Corporate Reporting : A Comparative Study Of South Asia1031 Words   |  5 Pagescorporate reporting: A comparative study of South Asia. Advances in International Accounting, 16, pp.17-43. [2] Ajinkya, B. and Gift, M. (1985). Dispersion of Financial Analysts Earnings Forecasts and the (Option Model) Implied Standard Deviations of Stock Returns. The Journal of Finance, 40(5), p.1353. [3] Alford, A. and Berger, P. (1999). A Simultaneous Equations Analysis of Forecast Accuracy, Analyst Following, and Trading Volume. Journal of Accounting, Auditing and Finance, 14(3), pp.219–240. [4] BakerRead MorePersonal Statement For Economics755 Words   |  4 Pagesmarkets has always intrigued me, ever since I was a young undergraduate. What fascinated me most about economics was the effort to mathematically model this dynamic driven in part by human behavior and social tendencies. During my undergraduate study, I got an opportunity to explore various facets of global markets and got a chance to work on several academic projects to empirically model economic theories. At the same time, I received the opportunity to intern at Ernst and Young Financial ServicesRead MoreA Study On Finance And Commerce927 Words   |  4 Pagesaccounting, finance and commerce, I have directed my studies towards developing a career in this field. I believe my career goals, my current skill set and the MPhil program curriculum, are very closely aligned. I majored in Accounting and minored in Finance as an undergraduate at Nanjing University, and I would now like to focus on real estate financ e. My academic interests, which focus specifically on financial theory and quantitative techniques, arise from my undergraduate studies. I am specificallyRead MoreThe Impact of Tax Revenue on Economic Growth1418 Words   |  6 PagesPROPOSAL INTRODUCTION 1.1 Background of the study The political, economic and social development of any country depends on the amount of revenue generated for the provision of infrastructure in that given country. However, one means of generating the amount of revenue for providing the needed infrastructure is through a well structured tax system (ogbona and ebimobewei, 2012). The vital role that taxation play in an economy cannot be overemphasized. Tax is a compulsory levy imposed by governmentRead MoreEfficient Market Hypothesis Vs Behavioural Finance1747 Words   |  7 PagesEfficient Market Hypothesis v’s Behavioural Finance An efficient market is one in which share prices quickly and fully reflect all available information, where investors are rational, and there are no frictions. Investors determine stock prices on the basis of expected cash flows to be received from a stock and the risk involved. Rational investors should use all the information they have available or can reasonably obtain, including both known information and beliefs about the future. In an efficientRead MoreOperating Lease Financing And Financial Performance Of State Owned Sugar Companies Essay973 Words   |  4 PagesManagement, University of Eldoret, P.O. Box 1125-30100, Eldoret, Kenya, Email: harwoodisabwa@yahoo.com Abstract This study analyses the effect of operating lease finance on financial performance of state owned sugar firms in Kenya. The study used the retrospective research design in collection of data. A target population of all the four state owned sugar firms was considered in the study for the period 2004-2014. The firms included Muhoroni Sugar Company, Chemilil Sugar Company, Nzoia Sugar Company

Symptoms And Treatment Of Parkinson Disease - 985 Words

SUBJECT POPULATION: Subjects older than 50 years, both men and women will be selected and enrolled at â€Å"Boston Medical Center, its affiliated hospitals-Massachusetts† and at â€Å"THE Queen’s Medical Center and its affiliated hospitals.- HAWAII†.Subjects will be recruited from the Suffolk and Honolulu County. The health departments of respective counties will be contacted; meetings will be arranged in seeking their advice to plan a community screening operation of Parkinson disease patients. Patients from tertiary hospitals as well as community hospitals will be enrolled. Participants who were diagnosed by community hospitals will be assessed and examined more carefully and detail by team members to make sure they received the right diagnosis. Inclusion/Exclusion Criteria: Inclusion Criteria: †¢ People aged older than 50 years, both men and women who have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Justification: This age range will enable us to recruit study participants adequately for our outcome of interest. Parkinson disease with dementia is a disease associated with advanced aging. The study subjects above 50 years of age will enable us to enroll desired participants diagnosed with PD without dementia and allow us to observe them for a sufficient period until outcome with minimal loss to follow-up.23, 24 †¢ All people diagnosed with Parkinson disease validated from tertiary care setting. Justification: Since Parkinson disease is a clinical diagnosis and misdiagnosisShow MoreRelatedTreatment Of Sleeping : Symptoms And Symptoms Of Parkinson s Disease2876 Words   |  12 PagesTreatment of Sleeping 1 Disorders Should Be Considered in 2 Clinical Management of Parkinson’s Disease 3 4 5 Altair B. dos Santos1, George E. Barreto, PhD2, Kristi A. Kohlmeier, PhD3 * 6 7 1Department of Biological Sciences, Universidade Estadual do Sudoeste da Bahia, 8 Brazil. 9 2Departmento de Nutricià ³n y Bioquà ­mica, Facultad de Ciencias, Pontificia Universidad 10 Javeriana, Bogotà ¡ D.C., Colombia. 11 3Faculty of Health and Medical Sciences, Department of Drug Design and 12 Pharmacology, UniversityRead MoreSymptoms And Treatment Of Parkinson s Disease1491 Words   |  6 Pageshealth care services. For example, my grandmother, age 85, was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2011 and is now a patient in the health care system. Parkinson’s disease is â€Å"when neurons in the substantia nigra degenerate, the resulting loss of dopamine causes the nerve cells of the striatum to fire excessively. This makes it impossible for people to control their movements, leading to the primary motor symptoms of PD†(National Institute of Neurological Disorders, 2004). She has not been capable ofRead MoreSymptoms And Treatment Of Parkinson s Disease1762 Words   |  8 Pagesâ€Å"Your 35-year-old spouse has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease†. These words hit home when dealing with a spouse. Question’s start to fly with what Parkinson’s disease really entails. Like any other disease, each case is different from t he next, but it all comes down to a gradual decrease in the range of muscle movement. When diagnosed, patients with PD have already lost and are still loosing nerve cells that produce dopamine and since dopamine helps control the movement of muscles it hindersRead MoreIs Parkinson Disease A Disease?1290 Words   |  6 Pages Parkinson Disease Danielle West University Of Arkansas Fort Smith Medical Terminology Fall of 2015 Introduction Parkinson is a disease that is a glitch in the neurons in the brain, which frequently affects the substantia nigra. Part of the dying neurons produces a chemical called dopamine. As this progresses, the dopamine in the brain decreases. Dopamine is a chemical in the brain which helps the body regulate coordination and movement in the body. Once Parkinson Disease (PD)Read MoreParkinson Disease : A Brain Disorder1109 Words   |  5 Pages Parkinson Disease By Teri Gordon BIO 202 Harrisonburg Campus â€Æ' Teri Gordon BIO 202 Kevin Chakos Harrisonburg Campus Research Paper Parkinson Disease Parkinson Disease is a brain disorder that affects movement, loss of muscle control and balance. The first symptoms usually include a tremor of the hand, foot, or leg which is often termed as a â€Å"shaky palsy.† The disease usually slowly progresses with symptoms getting more intense over many years. Some patients who develop Parkinson’s inRead MoreIdiopathic Parkisons Disease779 Words   |  3 PagesPARKINSONS DISEASE Parkinson also known as idiopathic Parkinson basically targets dopamine in brain nerve cells specially in mid brain and substantia nigra causes cell death. In Parkinson disorder levels of dopamine are decreased in brain. In early stage of Parkinson signs are very oblivious which includes tremors (shaking of hands), muscle rigidity and slowness of movement. Treatment can relief the symptoms but do not cure the disease. CLASSIFICATION: 1. IDIOPATHIC PARKINSONS DISEASE: In thisRead MoreUnderstanding Of Parkinson s Disease1527 Words   |  7 PagesUnderstanding Parkinson’s disease Many disease have been discovered thought the years. Many of which target a specific sex, age, or even a specific gene in a body. One particular disease is Parkinson’s disease that targets adults of age 60 and over. In 1817 James Parkinson wrote his famous essay over Shanking Paisy. Making James Parkinson the first to describe paralysis agitans that will later be named Parkinson’s disease. James Parkinson was born in the year 1755 Landon, England and would alsoRead MoreSymptoms And Symptoms Of Parkinson s Disease Essay831 Words   |  4 PagesParkinson Disease by Melissa Green Topical Bibliography In partial fulfillment of the writing requirement for Anatomy and Physiology 304 and the Department of Speech-Language Pathology SUNY Buffalo State Fall 2016 Parkinson’s disease is a neurodegenerative disorder characterized by motor symptoms or tremors, rigidity, (bradykinesia) or slowness of movement and posture instability. Parkinson’s involves the malfunction and death of vital nerve cells in theRead MoreParkinson s No Longer Happens But Is Inherited1181 Words   |  5 Pageshappens but is inherited An autosomal recessive is how one inherits a trait, disorder, or disease that is passed or shared through families. Whether it is albinism or red hair (also referred to as day walkers or ginger) height or heath both parent carry the autosomal trait that is passed to the child. An autosomal recessive disorder means that two copies of an abnormal gene must be present in order for the disease or trait to develop. A mutation in a gene on one of the first 22 non-sex chromosomes canRead MoreThe Impact Of Datscan On Diagnosis And Management Of Movement Disorders1108 Words   |  5 PagesEspecially if these tests could possibly lead us to a cure for those diseases that currently have only treatment, but no cures. Parkinson s is a progressively degenerative disease, which affects millions of people every year. Patients suffering from Parkinson s incur high costs from drug therapy, fall-related injuries, and hospitalizations. By diagnosing this disease earlier, treatment can be started ear lier and hopefully the symptoms can be delayed and less severe for a longer period of time giving

Strategic Management - 1232 Words

Summary In management domain, strategic management encompasses identification coupled with definition of strategies. Usually, managers employ these strategies to strive for high performance levels as well as admirable competitive advantage for business establishments. In addition to that, it includes decisions as well as acts managers set about, and which determine the outcome of the organizations’ performance.In this respect, strategic management draws higher profitability if well planned and executed. Incisively, a science is whatever skill that manifests detailed use of facts for a particular purpose. Subsequently, an art is clearly characterized as skill critical for any human tasks. Not only is strategic management a behavioral†¦show more content†¦In this perspective, an art is outlined as individualized application of theoretical formulas for attaining coveted results. For the most part, an art has to a large extent practical knowledge. In this case, a manager needs to be well-rounded in academic qualifications and the practical part of management, whereby he or she can apply concrete principles in relative situations for fruitful yield. In addition to that, a manager must have also personal skill. For one thing, each manager has a unique style and address for strategic management, depending on knowledge level coupled with personality (Hodgkinson and Healey, 1510). Moreover, a great sense of creativity is critical in an art. In the case of strategic management, creativity is displayed in targeting to bring forth unique results via combination of cognition and imagination. Above all, it harmonizes human as well as non human endowments to accomplish desired objectives (Leaptrott and McDonald, 35). Again, continued practice leads to mastery of a given art. As an example, managers gain skills by way of trial and error in the earlier stages, yet daily application of strategic management principles over a long period makes them competent in strategic management. To sum up, an art is goal oriented, whereby in strategic management efforts are directed towards attainment of preset goals by utilizing available resources. Therefore, in a wayShow MoreRelatedStrategic Management20602 Words   |  83 PagesHammond/Design Pics/Corbis Strategic Management Inputs Strategic Management and Strategic Competitiveness, 2 The External Environment: Opportunities, Threats, Industry Competition, and Competitor Analysis, 32 The Internal Organization: Resources, Capabilities, Core Competencies, and Competitive Advantages, 68 Strategic Management and Strategic Competitiveness Studying this chapter should provide you with the strategic management knowledge needed to: 1. Deï ¬ ne strategic competitiveness, strategyRead MoreStrategic Management1157 Words   |  5 PagesStrategic management consists of the analysis, decisions, and actions an organization undertakes in order to create and sustain competitive advantages. It gives the organization a sense of its objectives and a sense of how it will achieve these objectives. For Michael Porter, one of the leading strategy gurus, strategy is about achieving competitive advantage through being different. This means offering buyers a unique value, to increase their number and keep them as customers. For example, SouthwestRead MoreStrategic Management16778 Words   |  68 PagesPlanning and Management Strategy Formulation Strategy can be defined as a guide through whom organizations progress from the current state of affairs to a future desired state. Strategy is most importantly an effective tool used to forecast the future of a good organization rooted in long range plans. It makes a strong argument for an organization to effectively position itself within its constrain and environments, thereby maximizing its potential for flowing with the environmentalRead MoreStrategic Management2334 Words   |  10 PagesStrategic planning  is an  organization s process of defining its  strategy, or direction, and making  decisions  on allocating its resources to pursue this strategy. In order to determine the direction of the organization, it is necessary to understand its current position and the possible avenues through which it can pursue a particular course of action. Generally, strategic planning deals with at least one of three key questions: â€Å"What do we do?†, â€Å"For whom do we do it?†, and â€Å"How do we excel?†. InRead MoreStrategic Management5568 Words   |  23 PagesStrategic Management Section A: Objective Type (30 marks) †¢Ã¯â‚¬  This section consists of multiple choice questions Short notes type questions. †¢Ã¯â‚¬  Answer all the questions. †¢Ã¯â‚¬  Part one questions carry 1 mark each Part two questions carry 5 marks each. Part One: Multiple choices: 1. A plan of action designed to achieve a particular goal is: b. Strategy 2. It is important to develop mission statement for: a. Allocating organizational resources 3. The five forces model was developedRead MoreStrategic Management1860 Words   |  8 PagesExamination Paper: Semester II IIBM Institute of Business Management IIBM Institute of Business Management Examination Paper MM.100 Strategic Management Section A: Objective Type (30 marks) ï‚ ·Ã¯â‚¬  This section consists of multiple choice questions amp; Short notes type questions. ï‚ ·Ã¯â‚¬  Answer all the questions. ï‚ ·Ã¯â‚¬  Part one questions carry 1 mark each amp; Part two questions carry 5 marks each. Part One: Multiple choices: 1. A plan of action designed to achieve a particular goal is: a. Tactic Read MoreStrategic Management3099 Words   |  13 PagesIntroduction Strategic Management focuses on the long-term scope and direction of the organization which enables it to achieve advantages through matching resources to the changing environment to meet the need of the market and fulfill stakeholder’s expectations. The following is a strategic analysis of Manchester United, a member of the Barclay’s Premier league in the 2009 - 10 football season. This analysis is divided into three parts, namely; Market environment Analysis, Football Club Strategic AnalysisRead MoreStrategic Management9967 Words   |  40 PagesStrengths-Weakness-Opportunities-Threats (SWOT) Matrix, Strategic Position and Action Evaluation (SPACE) Matrix, Boston Consulting Group (BCG) Matrix, Internal External (IE) Matrix, Grand Strategy Matrix and Quantitative Strategic Planning Matrix (QSPM as Appropriate. Gives Advantages and Disadvantages of Alternative Strategies 11 8.1 SWOT Matrix 11 8.2 SPACE Matrix 14 8.3 BCG Matrix 15 8.4 IE Matrix 16 8.5: The Grand Strategy Matrix (GSM) 18 8.6 The Quantitative Strategic Planning Matrix (QSPM) 20 8.7 AdvantageRead MoreStrategic Management1922 Words   |  8 Pagesbetween the planning/design/positioning schools of strategic management and the resource based view? Define the planning of strategic management: Strategic planning can be defined as a process of organization that defining its strategy, direction, and making decision about resource to pursue its strategy. For the defining organization’s direction, its must be understand the current position and find out the way to making it successful. Generally, strategic planning must be including one of three keyRead Morestrategic management3200 Words   |  13 Pagesï » ¿Executive summary: The purpose of my assignment has been done in terms of strategic analysis, its formulation and implementation of Ryanair organization. The assignment is developed by three parts which includes variety of questions in the each part. Firstly, The part one is mostly focused on strategic analysis and its related questions has been given. Also, each question is answered that relevant to current strategy of Ryanair organization. And this part included internal environment and external

Black House Chapter Twenty-seven Free Essays

27 WHEN JACK AND Dale step into the air-conditioned cool, the Sand Bar is empty except for three people. Beezer and Doc are at the bar, with soft drinks in front of them an End Times sign if there ever was one, Jack thinks. Far back in the shadows (any further and he’d be in the dive’s primitive kitchen), Stinky Cheese is lurking. We will write a custom essay sample on Black House Chapter Twenty-seven or any similar topic only for you Order Now There is a vibe coming off the two bikers, a bad one, and Stinky wants no part of it. For one thing, he’s never seen Beezer and Doc without Mouse, Sonny, and Kaiser Bill. For another . . . oh God, it’s the California detective and the freakin’ chief of police. The jukebox is dark and dead, but the TV is on and Jack’s not exactly surprised to see that today’s Matinee Movie on AMC features his mother and Woody Strode. He fumbles for the name of the film, and after a moment it comes to him: Execution Express. â€Å"You don’t want to be in on this, Bea,† Woody says in this film Lily plays a Boston heiress named Beatrice Lodge, who comes west and turns outlaw, mostly to spite her straitlaced father. â€Å"This is looking like the gang’s last ride.† â€Å"Good,† Lily says. Her voice is stony, her eyes stonier. The picture is crap, but as always, she is dead on character. Jack has to smile a little. â€Å"What?† Dale asks him. â€Å"The whole world’s gone crazy, so what’s to smile about?† On TV, Woody Strode says: â€Å"What do you mean, good? The whole damn world’s gone crazy.† Jack Sawyer says, very softly: â€Å"We’re going to gun down as many as we can. Let them know we were here.† On the screen, Lily says the same thing to Woody. The two of them are about to step aboard the Execution Express, and heads will roll the good, the bad, and the ugly. Dale looks at his friend, dazed. â€Å"I know most of her lines,† Jack says, almost apologetically. â€Å"She was my mother, you see.† Before Dale can answer (supposing any answer came to mind), Jack joins Beezer and Doc at the bar. He looks up at the Kingsland Ale clock next to the television: 11:40. It should be high noon in situations like this, it’s always supposed to be high noon, isn’t it? â€Å"Jack,† Beezer says, and gives him a nod. â€Å"How ya doin’, buddy?† â€Å"Not too bad. You boys carrying?† Doc lifts his vest, disclosing the butt of a pistol. â€Å"It’s a Colt 9. Beez has got one of the same. Good iron, all registered and proper.† He glances at Dale. â€Å"You along for the ride, are you?† â€Å"It’s my town,† Dale says, â€Å"and the Fisherman just murdered my uncle. I don’t understand very much of what Jack’s been telling me, but I know that much. And if he says there’s a chance we can get Judy Marshall’s boy back, I think we’d better try it.† He glances at Jack. â€Å"I brought you a service revolver. One of the Ruger automatics. It’s out in the car.† Jack nods absently. He doesn’t care much about the guns, because once they’re on the other side they’ll almost certainly change into something else. Spears, possibly javelins. Maybe even slingshots. It’s going to be the Execution Express, all right the Sawyer Gang’s last ride but he doubts if it’ll be much like the one in this old movie from the sixties. Although he’ll take the Ruger. There might be work for it on this side. One never knows, does one? â€Å"Ready to saddle up?† Beezer asks Jack. His eyes are deep-socketed, haunted. Jack guesses the Beez didn’t get much sleep last night. He glances up at the clock again and decides for no other reason than pure superstition that he doesn’t want to start for the Black House just yet, after all. They’ll leave the Sand Bar when the hands on the Kingsland clock stand at straight-up noon, no sooner. The Gary Cooper witching hour. â€Å"Almost,† he says. â€Å"Have you got the map, Beez?† â€Å"I got it, but I also got an idea you don’t really need it, do you?† â€Å"Maybe not,† Jack allows, â€Å"but I’ll take all the insurance I can get.† Beezer nods. â€Å"I’m down with that. I sent my old lady back to her ma’s in Idaho. After what happened with poor old Mousie, I didn’t have to argue too hard. Never sent her back before, man. Not even the time we had our bad rumble with the Pagans. But I got a terrible feeling about this.† He hesitates, then comes right out with it. â€Å"Feel like none of us are coming back.† Jack puts a hand on Beezer’s meaty forearm. â€Å"Not too late to back out. I won’t think any less of you.† Beezer mulls it over, then shakes his head. â€Å"Amy comes to me in my dreams, sometimes. We talk. How am I gonna talk to her if I don’t stand up for her? No, man, I’m in.† Jack looks at Doc. â€Å"I’m with Beez,† Doc says. â€Å"Sometimes you just gotta stand up. Besides, after what happened to Mouse . . .† He shrugs. â€Å"God knows what we might have caught from him. Or fucking around out there at that house. Future might be short after that, no matter what.† â€Å"How’d it turn out with Mouse?† Jack inquires. Doc gives a short laugh. â€Å"Just like he said. Around three o’clock this morning, we just washed old Mousie down the tub drain. Nothing left but foam and hair.† He grimaces as if his stomach is trying to revolt, then quickly downs his glass of Coke. â€Å"If we’re going to do something,† Dale blurts, â€Å"let’s just do it.† Jack glances up at the clock. It’s 11:50 now. â€Å"Soon.† â€Å"I’m not afraid of dying,† Beezer says abruptly. â€Å"I’m not even afraid of that devil dog. It can be hurt if you pour enough bullets into it, we found that out. It’s how that fucking place makes you feel. The air gets thick. Your head aches and your muscles get weak.† And then, with a surprisingly good British accent: â€Å"Hangovers ain’t in it, old boy.† â€Å"My gut was the worst,† Doc says. â€Å"That and . . .† But he falls silent. He doesn’t ever talk about Daisy Temperly, the girl he killed with an errant scratch of ink on a prescription pad, but he can see her now as clearly as the make-believe cowboys on the Sand Bar’s TV. Blond, she was. With brown eyes. Sometimes he’d made her smile (even in her pain) by singing that song to her, the Van Morrison song about the brown-eyed girl. â€Å"I’m going for Mouse,† Doc says. â€Å"I have to. But that place . . . it’s a sick place. You don’t know, man. You may think you understand, but you don’t.† â€Å"I understand more than you think,† Jack says. Now it’s his turn to stop, to consider. Do Beezer and Doc remember the word Mouse spoke before he died? Do they remember d’yamba? They should, they were right there, they saw the books slide off their shelf and hang in the air when Jack spoke that word . . . but Jack is almost sure that if he asked them right now, they’d give him looks that are puzzled, or maybe just blank. Partly because d’yamba is hard to remember, like the precise location of the lane that leads from sane antislippage Highway 35 to Black House. Mostly, however, because the word was for him, for Jack Sawyer, the son of Phil and Lily. He is the leader of the Sawyer Gang because he is different. He has traveled, and travel is broadening. How much of this should he tell them? None of it, probably. But they must believe, and for that to happen he must use Mouse’s word. He knows in his heart that he must be careful about using it d’yamba is like a gun; you can only fire it so many times before it clicks empty and he hates to use it here, so far from Black House, but he will. Because they must believe. If they don’t, their brave quest to rescue Ty is apt to end with them all kneeling in Black House’s front yard, noses bleeding, eyes bleeding, vomiting and spitting teeth into the poison air. Jack can tell them that most of the poison comes from their own minds, but talk is cheap. They must believe. Besides, it’s still only 11:53. â€Å"Lester,† he says. The bartender has been lurking, forgotten, by the swing door into the kitchen. Not eavesdropping he’s too far away for that but not wanting to move and attract attention. Now it seems that he’s attracted some anyway. â€Å"Have you got honey?† Jack asks. â€Å"H-honey?† â€Å"Bees make it, Lester. Mokes make money and bees make honey.† Something like comprehension dawns in Lester’s eyes. â€Å"Yeah, sure. I keep it to make Kentucky Getaways. Also â€Å" â€Å"Set it on the bar,† Jack tells him. Dale stirs restively. â€Å"If time’s as short as you think, Jack â€Å" â€Å"This is important.† He watches Lester Moon put a small plastic squeeze bottle of honey on the bar and finds himself thinking of Henry. How Henry would have enjoyed the pocket miracle Jack is about to perform! But of course, he wouldn’t have needed to perform such a trick for Henry. Wouldn’t have needed to waste part of the precious word’s power. Because Henry would have believed at once, just as he had believed he could drive from Trempealeau to French Landing hell, to the fucking moon if someone just dared to give him the chance and the car keys. â€Å"I’ll bring it to you,† Lester says bravely. â€Å"I ain’t afraid.† â€Å"Just set it down on the far end of the bar,† Jack tells him. â€Å"That’ll be fine.† He does as asked. The squeeze bottle is shaped like a bear. It sits there in a beam of six-minutes-to-noon sun. On the television, the gunplay has started. Jack ignores it. He ignores everything, focusing his mind as brightly as a point of light through a magnifying glass. For a moment he allows that tight focus to remain empty, and then he fills it with a single word: (D’YAMBA) At once he hears a low buzzing. It swells to a drone. Beezer, Doc, and Dale look around. For a moment nothing happens, and then the sunshiny doorway darkens. It’s almost as if a very small rain cloud has floated into the Sand Bar Stinky Cheese lets out a strangled squawk and goes flailing backward. â€Å"Wasps!† he shouts. â€Å"Them are wasps! Get clear!† But they are not wasps. Doc and Lester Moon might not recognize that, but both Beezer and Dale Gilbertson are country boys. They know bees when they see one. Jack, meanwhile, only looks at the swarm. Sweat has popped out on his forehead. He’s concentrating with all his might on what he wants the bees to do. They cloud around the squeeze bottle of honey so thickly it almost disappears. Then their humming deepens, and the bottle begins to rise, wobbling from side to side like a tiny missile with a really shitty guidance system. Then, slowly, it wavers its way toward the Sawyer Gang. The squeeze bottle is riding a cushion of bees six inches above the bar. Jack holds his hand out and open. The squeeze bottle glides into it. Jack closes his fingers. Docking complete. For a moment the bees rise around his head, their drone competing with Lily, who is shouting: â€Å"Save the tall bastard for me! He’s the one who raped Stella!† Then they stream out the door and are gone. The Kingsland Ale clock stands at 11:57. â€Å"Holy Mary, mothera God,† Beezer whispers. His eyes are huge, almost popping out of their sockets. â€Å"You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel, looks like to me,† Dale says. His voice is unsteady. From the end of the bar there comes a soft thud. Lester â€Å"Stinky Cheese† Moon has, for the first time in his life, fainted. â€Å"We’re going to go now,† Jack says. â€Å"Beez, you and Doc lead. We’ll be right behind you in Dale’s car. When you get to the lane and the NO TRESPASSING sign, don’t go in. Just park your scoots. We’ll go the rest of the way in the car, but first we’re going to put a little of this under our noses.† Jack holds up the squeeze bottle. It’s a plastic version of Winnie-the-Pooh, grimy around the middle where Lester seizes it and squeezes it. â€Å"We might even dab some in our nostrils. A little sticky, but better than projectile vomiting.† Confirmation and approval are dawning in Dale’s eyes. â€Å"Like putting Vicks under your nose at a murder scene,† he says. It’s nothing like that at all, but Jack nods. Because this is about believing. â€Å"Will it work?† Doc asks doubtfully. â€Å"Yes,† Jack replies. â€Å"You’ll still feel some discomfort, I don’t doubt that a bit, but it’ll be mild. Then we’re going to cross over to . . . well, to someplace else. After that, all bets are off.† â€Å"I thought the kid was in the house,† Beez says. â€Å"I think he’s probably been moved. And the house . . . it’s a kind of wormhole. It opens on another . . .† World is the first word to come into Jack’s mind, but somehow he doesn’t think it is a world, not in the Territories sense. â€Å"On another place.† On the TV, Lily has just taken the first of about six bullets. She dies in this one, and as a kid Jack always hated that, but at least she goes down shooting. She takes quite a few of the bastards with her, including the tall one who raped her friend, and that is good. Jack hopes he can do the same. More than anything, however, he hopes he can bring Tyler Marshall back to his mother and father. Beside the television, the clock flicks from 11:59 to 12:00. â€Å"Come on, boys,† Jack Sawyer says. â€Å"Let’s saddle up and ride.† Beezer and Doc mount their iron horses. Jack and Dale stroll toward the chief of police’s car, then stop as a Ford Explorer bolts into the Sand Bar’s lot, skidding on the gravel and hurrying toward them, pulling a rooster tail of dust into the summer air. â€Å"Oh Christ,† Dale murmurs. Jack can tell from the too small baseball cap sitting ludicrously on the driver’s head that it’s Fred Marshall. But if Ty’s father thinks he’s going to join the rescue mission, he’d better think again. â€Å"Thank God I caught you!† Fred shouts as he all but tumbles from his truck. â€Å"Thank God!† â€Å"Who next?† Dale asks softly. â€Å"Wendell Green? Tom Cruise? George W. Bush, arm in arm with Miss Fucking Universe?† Jack barely hears him. Fred is wrestling a long package from the bed of his truck, and all at once Jack is interested. The thing in that package could be a rifle, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s what it is. Jack suddenly feels like a squeeze bottle being levitated by bees, not so much acting as acted upon. He starts forward. â€Å"Hey bro, let’s roll!† Beezer yells. Beneath him, his Harley explodes into life. â€Å"Let’s â€Å" Then Beezer cries out. So does Doc, who jerks so hard he almost dumps the bike idling between his thighs. Jack feels something like a bolt of lightning go through his head and he reels forward into Fred, who is also shouting incoherently. For a moment the two of them appear to be either dancing with the long wrapped object Fred has brought them or wrestling over it. Only Dale Gilbertson who hasn’t been to the Territories, hasn’t been close to Black House, and who is not Ty Marshall’s father is unaffected. Yet even he feels something rise in his head, something like an interior shout. The world trembles. All at once there seems to be more color in it, more dimension. â€Å"What was that?† he shouts. â€Å"Good or bad? Good or bad? What the hell is going on here?† For a moment none of them answer. They are too dazed to answer. While a swarm of bees is floating a squeeze bottle of honey along the top of a bar in another world, Burny is telling Ty Marshall to face the wall, goddamnit, just face the wall. They are in a foul little shack. The sounds of clashing machinery are much closer. Ty can also hear screams and sobs and harsh yells and what can only be the whistling crack of whips. They are very near the Big Combination now. Ty has seen it, a great crisscrossing confusion of metal rising into the clouds from a smoking pit about half a mile east. It looks like a madman’s conception of a skyscraper, a Rube Goldberg collection of chutes and cables and belts and platforms, everything run by the marching, staggering children who roll the belts and pull the great levers. Red-tinged smoke rises from it in stinking fumes. Twice as the golf cart rolled slowly along, Ty at the wheel and Burny leaning askew in the passenger seat with the Taser pointed, squads of freakish green men passed them. Their features were scrambled, their skin plated and reptilian. They wore half-cured leather tunics from which tufts of fur still started in places. Most carried spears; several had whips. Overseers, Burny said. They keep the wheels of progress turning. He began to laugh, but the laugh turned into a groan and the groan into a harsh and breathless shriek of pain. Good, Ty thought coldly. And then, for the first time employing a favorite word of Ebbie Wexler’s: Die soon, you motherfucker. About two miles from the back of Black House, they came to a huge wooden platform on their left. A gantrylike thing jutted up from it. A long post projected out from the top, almost to the road. A number of frayed rope ends dangled from it, twitching in the hot and sulfurous breeze. Under the platform, on dead ground that never felt the sun, were litters of bones and ancient piles of white dust. To one side was a great mound of shoes. Why they’d take the clothes and leave the shoes was a question Ty probably couldn’t have answered even had he not been wearing the cap (sbecial toyz for sbecial boyz), but a disjointed phrase popped into his head: custom of the country. He had an idea that was something his father sometimes said, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t even remember his father’s face, not clearly. The gibbet was surrounded by crows. They jostled one another and turned to follow the humming progress of the E-Z-Go. None was the special crow, the one with the name Ty could no longer remember, but he knew why they were here. They were waiting for fresh flesh to pluck, that’s what they were doing. Waiting for newly dead eyes to gobble. Not to mention the bare toesies of the shoe-deprived dead. Beyond the pile of discarded, rotting footwear, a broken track led off to the north, over a fuming hill. â€Å"Station House Road,† Burny said. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Ty at that point, was perhaps edging into delirium. Yet still the Taser pointed at Ty’s neck, never wavering. â€Å"That’s where I’m supposed to be taking the special boy.† Taging the sbecial bouy. â€Å"That’s where the special ones go. Mr. Munshun’s gone to get the mono. The End-World mono. Once there were two others. Patricia . . . and Blaine. They’re gone. Went crazy. Committed suicide.† Ty drove the cart and remained silent, but he had to believe old Burn-Burn was the one who had gone crazy (crazier, he reminded himself ). He knew about monorails, had even ridden one at Disney World in Orlando, but monorails named Blaine and Patricia? That was stupid. Station House Road fell behind them. Ahead, the rusty red and iron gray of the Big Combination drew closer. Ty could see moving ants on cruelly inclined belts. Children. Some from other worlds, perhaps worlds adjacent to this one but many from his own. Kids whose faces appeared for a while on milk cartons and then disappeared forever. Kept a little longer in the hearts of their parents, of course, but eventually growing dusty even there, turning from vivid memories into old photographs. Kids presumed dead, buried somewhere in shallow graves by perverts who had used them and then discarded them. Instead, they were here. Some of them, anyway. Many of them. Struggling to yank the levers and turn the wheels and move the belts while the yellow-eyed, green-skinned overseers cracked their whips. As Ty watched, one of the ant specks fell down the side of the convoluted, steam-wreathed building. He thought he could hear a faint scream. Or perhaps it was a cry of relief ? â€Å"Beautiful day,† Burny said faintly. â€Å"I’ll enjoy it more when I get something to eat. Having something to eat always . . . always perks me up.† His ancient eyes studied Ty, tightening a little at the corners with sudden warmth. â€Å"Baby butt’s the best eatin’, but yours won’t be bad. Nope, won’t be bad at all. He said to take you to the station, but I ain’t sure he’d give me my share. My . . . commission. Maybe he’s honest . . . maybe he’s still my friend . . . but I think I’ll just take my share first, and make sure. Most agents take their ten percent off the top.† He reached out and poked Ty just below the belt-line. Even through his jeans, the boy could feel the tough, blunt edge of the old man’s nail. â€Å"I think I’ll take mine off the bottom.† A wheezy, painful laugh, and Ty was not exactly displeased to see a bright bubble of blood appear between the old man’s cracked lips. â€Å"Off the bottom, get it?† The nail poked the side of Ty’s buttock again. â€Å"I get it,† Ty said. â€Å"You’ll be able to break just as well,† Burny said. â€Å"It’s just that when you fart, you’ll have to do the old one-cheek sneak every time!† More wheezing laughter. Yes, he sounded delirious, all right delirious or on the verge of it yet still the tip of the Taser remained rock-steady. â€Å"Keep on going, boy. ‘Nother half a mile up the Conger Road. You’ll see a little shack with a tin roof, down in a draw. It’s on the right. It’s a special place. Special to me. Turn in there.† Ty, with no other choice, obeyed. And now â€Å"Do what I tell you! Face the fucking wall! Put your hands up and through those loops!† Ty couldn’t define the word euphemism on a bet, but he knows calling those metal circlets â€Å"loops† is bullshit. What’s hanging from the rear wall are shackles. Panic flutters in his brain like a flock of small birds, threatening to obscure his thoughts. Ty fights to hold on fights with grim intensity. If he gives in to panic, starts to holler and scream, he’s going to be finished. Either the old man will kill him in the act of carving him up, or the old man’s friend will take him away to some awful place Burny calls Din-tah. In either case, Ty will never see his mother and father again. Or French Landing. But if he can keep his head . . . wait for his chance . . . Ah, but it’s hard. The cap he’s wearing actually helps a little in this respect it has a dulling effect that helps hold the panic at bay but it’s still hard. Because he’s not the first kid the old man has brought here, no more than he was the first to spend long, slow hours in that cell back at the old man’s house. There’s a blackened, grease-caked barbecue set up in the left corner of the shed, underneath a tin-plated smoke hole. The grill is hooked up to a couple of gas bottles with LA RIVIERE PROPANE stenciled on the sides. Hung on the wall are oven mitts, spatulas, tongs, basting brushes, and meat forks. There are scissors and tenderizing hammers and at least four keen-bladed carving knives. One of the knives looks almost as long as a ceremonial sword. Hanging beside that one is a filthy apron with YOU MAY KISS THE COOK printed on it. The smell in the air reminds Ty of the VFW picnic his mom and dad took him to the previous Labor Day. Maui Wowie, it had been called, because the people who went were supposed to feel like they were spending the day in Hawaii. There had been a great big barbecue pit in the center of La Follette Park down by the river, tended by women in grass skirts and men wearing loud shirts covered with birds and tropical foliage. Whole pigs had been roasting over a glaring hole in the ground, and the odor had been like the one in this shed. Except the smell in here is stale . . . and old . . . and . . . And not quite pork, Ty thinks. It’s â€Å"I should stand here and jaw at you all day, you louse?† The Taser gives off a crackling sizzle. Tingling, debilitating pain sinks into the side of Ty’s neck. His bladder lets go and he wets his pants. He can’t help it. Is hardly aware of it, in truth. Somewhere (in a galaxy far, far away) a hand that is trembling but still terribly strong thrusts Ty toward the back wall and the shackles that have been welded to steel plates about five and a half feet off the ground. â€Å"There!† Burny cries, and gives a tired, hysterical laugh. â€Å"Knew you’d get one for good luck eventually! Smart boy, ain’tcha? Little wisenheimer! Now put your hands through them loops and let’s have no more foolishness about it!† Ty has put out his hands in order to keep himself from crashing face-first into the shed’s rear wall. His eyes are less than a foot from the wood, and he is getting a very good look at the old layers of blood that coat it. That plate it. The blood has an ancient metallic reek. Beneath his feet, the ground feels spongy. Jellylike. Nasty. This may be an illusion in the physical sense, but Ty knows that what he’s feeling is nonetheless quite real. This is corpse ground. The old man may not prepare his terrible meals here every time may not have that luxury but this is the place he likes. As he said, it’s special to him. If I let him lock both of my hands into those shackles, Ty thinks, I’ve had it. He’ll cut me up. And once he starts cutting, he may not be able to stop himself not for this Mr. Munching, not for anyone. So get ready. That last is not like one of his own thoughts at all. It’s like hearing his mother’s voice in his head. His mother, or someone like her. Ty steadies. The flock of panic birds is suddenly gone, and he is as clearheaded as the cap will allow. He knows what he must do. Or try to do. He feels the nozzle of the Taser slip between his legs and thinks of the snake wriggling across the overgrown driveway, carrying its mouthful of fangs. â€Å"Put your hands through those loops right now, or I’m going to fry your balls like oysters.† Ersters, it sounds like. â€Å"Okay,† Ty says. He speaks in a high, whiny voice. He hopes he sounds scared out of his mind. God knows it shouldn’t be hard to sound that way. â€Å"Okay, okay, just don’t hurt me, I’m doing it now, see? See?† He puts his hands through the loops. They are big and loose. â€Å"Higher!† The growling voice is still in his ear, but the Taser is gone from between his legs, at least. â€Å"Shove ’em in as far as you can!† Ty does as he is told. The shackles slide to a point just above his wrists. His hands are like starfish in the gloom. Behind him, he hears that soft clinking noise again as Burny rummages in his bag. Ty understands. The cap may be scrambling his thoughts a little, but this is too obvious to miss. The old bastard’s got handcuffs in there. Handcuffs that have been used many, many times. He’ll cuff Ty’s wrists above the shackles, and here Ty will stand or dangle, if he passes out while the old monster carves him up. â€Å"Now listen,† Burny says. He sounds out of breath, but he also sounds lively again. The prospect of a meal has refreshed him, brought back a certain amount of his vitality. â€Å"I’m pointin’ this shocker at you with one hand. I’m gonna slip a cuff around your left wrist with the other hand. If you move . . . if you so much as twitch, boy . . . you get the juice. Understand?† Ty nods at the bloodstained wall. â€Å"I won’t move,† he gibbers. â€Å"Honest I won’t.† â€Å"First one hand, then the other. That’s how I do it.† There is a revolting complacency in his voice. The Taser presses between Ty’s shoulder blades hard enough to hurt. Grunting with effort, the old man leans over Ty’s left shoulder. Ty can smell sweat and blood and age. It is like â€Å"Hansel and Gretel,† he thinks, only he has no oven to push his tormentor into. You know what to do, Judy tells him coldly. He may not give you a chance, and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. But if he does . . . A handcuff slips around his left wrist. Burny is grunting softly, repulsively, in Ty’s ear. The old man reaches . . . the Taser shifts . . . but not quite far enough. Ty holds still as Burny snaps the handcuff shut and tightens it down. Now Ty’s left hand is secured to the shed wall. Dangling down from his left wrist by its steel chain is the cuff Burny intends to put on his right wrist. The old man, still panting effortfully, moves to the right. He reaches around Ty’s front, groping for the dangling cuff. The Taser is once more digging into Ty’s back. If the old man gets hold of the cuff, Ty’s goose is probably cooked (in more ways than one). And he almost does. But the cuff slips out of his grip, and instead of waiting for it to pendulum back to where he can grab it, Burny leans farther forward. The bony side of his face is planted against Ty’s right shoulder. And when he leans to get the dangling handcuff, Ty feels the touch of the Taser first lighten, then disappear. Now! Judy screams inside Ty’s head. Or perhaps it is Sophie. Or maybe it’s both of them together. Now, Ty! It’s your chance, there won’t be another! Ty pistons his right arm downward, pulling free of the shackle. It would do him no good to try to shove Burny away from him the old monster outweighs him by sixty pounds or more and Ty doesn’t try. He pulls away to his left instead, putting excruciating pressure on his shoulder and on his left wrist, which has been locked into the shackle holding it. â€Å"What † Burny begins, and then Ty’s groping right hand has what it wants: the loose, dangling sac of the old man’s balls. He squeezes with all the force in his body. He feels the monster’s testicles squash toward each other; feels one of them rupture and deflate. Ty shouts, a sound of dismay and horror and savage triumph all mingled together. Burny, caught entirely by surprise, howls. He tries to pull backward, but Ty has him in a harpy’s grip. His hand so small, so incapable (or so you would think) of any serious defense has turned into a claw. If ever there was a time to use the Taser, this is it . . . but in his surprise, Burny’s hand has sprung open. The Taser lies on the ancient, blood-impacted earth of the shed floor. â€Å"Let go of me! That HURTS! That hurr â€Å" Before he can finish, Ty yanks forward on the spongy and deflating bag inside the old cotton pants; he yanks with all the force of panic, and something in there rips. Burny’s words dissolve in a liquid howl of agony. This is more pain than he has ever imagined . . . certainly never in connection with himself. But it is not enough. Judy’s voice says it’s not, and Ty might know it, anyway. He has hurt the old man has given him what Ebbie Wexler would undoubtedly call â€Å"a fuckin’ rupture† but it’s not enough. He lets go and turns to his left, pivoting on his shackled hand. He sees the old man swaying before him in the shadows. Beyond him, the golf cart stands in the open door, outlined against a sky filled with clouds and burning smoke. The old monster’s eyes are huge and disbelieving, bulging with tears. He gapes at the little boy who has done this. Soon comprehension will return. When it does, Burny is apt to seize one of the knives from the wall or perhaps one of the meat forks and stab his chained prisoner to death, screaming curses and oaths at him as he does so, calling him a monkey, a bastard, a fucking asswipe. Any thought of Ty’s great talent will be gone. Any fear of what may happen to Burny himself if Mr. Munshun and the abbalah is robbed of his prize will also be gone. In truth, Burny is nothing but a psychotic animal, and in another moment his essential nature will break loose and vent itself on this tethered child. Tyler Marshall, son of Fred and the formidable Judy, does not give Burny this chance. During the last part of the drive he has thought repeatedly of what the old man said about Mr. Munshun he hurt me, he pulled my guts and hoped he might get his own opportunity to do some pulling. Now it’s come. Hanging from the shackle with his left arm pulled cruelly up, he shoots his right hand forward. Through the hole in Burny’s shirt. Through the hole Henry has made with his switchblade knife. Suddenly Ty has hold of something ropy and wet. He seizes it and pulls a roll of Charles Burnside’s intestines out through the rip in his shirt. Burny’s head turns up toward the shed’s ceiling. His jaw snaps convulsively, the cords on his wrinkled old neck stand out, and he voices a great, agonized bray. He tries to pull away, which may be the worst thing a man can do when someone has him by the liver and lights. A blue-gray fold of gut, as plump as a sausage and perhaps still trying to digest Burny’s last Maxton cafeteria meal, comes out with the audible pop of a champagne cork leaving the neck of its bottle. Charles â€Å"Chummy† Burnside’s last words: â€Å"LET GO, YOU LITTLE PIIIIG!† Tyler does not let go. Instead he shakes the loop of intestine furiously from side to side like a terrier with a rat in its jaws. Blood and yellowish fluid spray out of the hole in Burny’s midsection. â€Å"Die!† Tyler hears himself screaming. â€Å"Die, you old fuck, GO ON AND DIE!† Burny staggers back another step. His mouth drops open, and part of an upper plate tumbles out and onto the dirt. He is staring down at two loops of his own innards, stretching like gristle from the gaping red-black front of his shirt to the awful child’s right hand. And he sees an even more terrible thing: a kind of white glow has surrounded the boy. It is feeding him more strength than he otherwise would have had. Feeding him the strength to pull Burny’s living guts right out of his body and how it hurt, how it hurt, how it dud dud dud hurrrrr â€Å"Die!† the boy screams in a shrill and breaking voice. â€Å"Oh please, WON’T YOU EVER DIE?† And at last at long, long last Burny collapses to his knees. His dimming gaze fixes on the Taser and he reaches one trembling hand toward it. Before it can get far, the light of consciousness leaves Burny’s eyes. He hasn’t endured enough pain to equal even the hundredth part of the suffering he has inflicted, but it’s all his ancient body can take. He makes a harsh cawing sound deep in his throat, then tumbles over backward, more intestines pulling out of his lower abdomen as he does so. He is unaware of this or of anything else. Carl Bierstone, also known as Charles Burnside, also known as â€Å"Chummy† Burnside, is dead. For over thirty seconds, nothing moves. Tyler Marshall is alive but at first only hangs from the axis of his shackled left arm, still clutching a loop of Burny’s intestine in his right hand. Clutching it in a death grip. At last some sense of awareness informs his features. He gets his feet under him and scrambles upright, easing the all but intolerable pressure on the socket of his left shoulder. He suddenly becomes aware that his right arm is splashed with gore all the way to the biceps, and that he’s got a handful of dead man’s insides. He lets go of them and bolts for the door, not remembering that he’s still chained to the wall until he is yanked back, the socket of his shoulder once more bellowing with pain. You’ve done well, the voice of Judy-Sophie whispers. But you have to get out of here, and quick. Tears start to roll down his dirty, pallid face again, and Ty begins to scream at the top of his voice. â€Å"Help me! Somebody help me! I’m in the shed! I’M IN THE SHED!† Out in front of the Sand Bar, Doc stays where he is, with his scoot rumbling between his legs, but Beezer turns his off, levers the stand into place with one booted heel, and walks over to Jack, Dale, and Fred. Jack has taken charge of the wrapped object Ty’s father has brought them. Fred, meanwhile, has gotten hold of Jack’s shirt. Dale tries to restrain the man, but as far as Fred Marshall’s concerned, there are now only two people in the world: him and Hollywood Jack Sawyer. â€Å"It was him, wasn’t it? It was Ty. That was my boy, I heard him!† â€Å"Yes,† Jack says. â€Å"It certainly was and you certainly did.† He’s gone rather pale, Beezer sees, but is otherwise calm. It’s absolutely not bothering him that the missing boy’s father has yanked his shirt out of his pants. No, all Jack’s attention is on the wrapped package. â€Å"What in God’s name is going on here?† Dale asks plaintively. He looks at Beezer. â€Å"Do you know?† â€Å"The kid’s in a shed somewhere,† Beezer says. â€Å"Am I right about that?† â€Å"Yes,† Jack says. Fred abruptly lets go of Jack’s shirt and staggers backward, sobbing. Jack pays no attention to him and makes no effort to tuck in the tail of his crumpled shirt. He’s still looking at the package. He half-expects sugar-packet stamps, but no, this is just a case of plain old metered mail. Whatever it is, it’s been mailed Priority to Mr. Tyler Marshall, 16 Robin Hood Lane, French Landing. The return address has been stamped in red: Mr. George Rathbun, KDCU, 4 Peninsula Drive, French Landing. Below this, stamped in large black letters: EVEN A BLIND MAN CAN SEE THAT COULEE COUNTRY LOVES THE BREWER BASH! â€Å"Henry, you never quit, do you?† Jack murmurs. Tears sting his eyes. The idea of life without his old friend hits him all over again, leaves him feeling helpless and lost and stupid and hurt. â€Å"What about Uncle Henry?† Dale asks. â€Å"Jack, Uncle Henry’s dead.† Jack’s no longer so sure of that, somehow. â€Å"Let’s go,† Beezer says. â€Å"We got to get that kid. He’s alive, but he ain’t safe. I got that clear as a bell. Let’s go for it. We can figure the rest out later.† But Jack who has not just heard Tyler’s shout but has, for a moment, seen through Tyler’s eyes doesn’t have much to figure out. In fact, figuring out now comes down to only one thing. Ignoring both Beezer and Dale, he steps toward Ty’s weeping father. â€Å"Fred.† Fred goes on sobbing. â€Å"Fred, if you ever want to see your boy again, you get hold of yourself right now and listen to me.† Fred looks up, red eyes streaming. The ridiculously small baseball cap still perches on his head. â€Å"What’s in this, Fred?† â€Å"It must be a prize in that contest George Rathbun runs every summer the Brewer Bash. But I don’t know how Ty could have won something in the first place. A couple of weeks ago he was pissing and moaning about how he forgot to enter. He even asked if maybe I’d entered the contest for him, and I kind of . . . well, I snapped at him.† Fresh tears begin running down Fred’s stubbly cheeks at the memory. â€Å"That was around the time Judy was getting . . . strange . . . I was worried about her and I just kind of . . . snapped at him. You know?† Fred’s chest heaves. He makes a watery hitching sound and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. He wipes an arm across his eyes. â€Å"And Ty . . . all he said was, ? ®That’s all right, Dad.’ He didn’t get mad at me, didn’t sulk or anything. Because that’s just the kind of boy he was. That he is.† â€Å"How did you know to bring it to me?† â€Å"Your friend called,† Fred says. â€Å"He told me the postman had brought something and I had to bring it to you here, right away. Before you left. He called you â€Å" â€Å"He called me Travelin’ Jack.† Fred Marshall looks at him wonderingly. â€Å"That’s right.† â€Å"All right.† Jack speaks gently, almost absently. â€Å"We’re going to get your boy now.† â€Å"I’ll come. I’ve got my deer rifle in the truck â€Å" â€Å"And that’s where it’s going to stay. Go home. Make a place for him. Make a place for your wife. And let us do what we have to do.† Jack looks first at Dale, then at Beezer. â€Å"Come on,† he says. â€Å"Let’s roll.† Five minutes later, the FLPD chief’s car is speeding west on Highway 35. Directly ahead, like an honor guard, Beezer and Doc are riding side by side, the sun gleaming on the chrome of their bikes. Trees in full summer leaf crowd close to the road on either side. Jack can feel the buzzing that is Black House’s signature starting to ramp up in his head. He has discovered he can wall that noise off if he has to, keep it from spreading and blanketing his entire thought process with static, but it’s still damned unpleasant. Dale has given him one of the Ruger .357s that are the police department’s service weapons; it’s now stuck in the waistband of his blue jeans. He was surprised at how good the weight of it felt in his hand, almost like a homecoming. Guns may not be of much use in the world behind Black House, but they have to get there first, don’t they? And according to Beezer and Doc, the approach is not exactly undefended. â€Å"Dale, do you have a pocketknife?† â€Å"Glove compartment,† Dale says. He glances at the long package on Jack’s lap. â€Å"I presume you want to open that.† â€Å"You presume right.† â€Å"Can you explain a few things while you do it? Like whether or not, once we get inside Black House, we can expect Charles Burnside to jump out of a secret door with an axe and start â€Å" â€Å"Chummy Burnside’s days of jumping out at folks are all over,† Jack says. â€Å"He’s dead. Ty Marshall killed him. That’s what hit us outside the Sand Bar.† The chief’s car swerves so extravagantly all the way across to the left side of the road that Beezer looks back for a moment, startled at what he’s just seen in his rearview. Jack gives him a hard, quick wave Go on, don’t worry about us and Beez faces forward again. â€Å"What?† Dale gasps. â€Å"The old bastard was hurt, but I have an idea that Ty still did one hell of a brave thing. Brave and crafty both.† Jack is thinking that Henry softened Burnside up and Ty finished him up. What George Rathbun would undoubtedly have called a honey of a double play. â€Å"How â€Å" â€Å"Disemboweled him. With his bare hands. Hand. I’m pretty sure the other one’s chained up somehow.† Dale is silent for a moment, watching the motorcyclists ahead of him as they lean into a curve with their hair streaming out from beneath their token gestures at obeying Wisconsin’s helmet law. Jack, meanwhile, is slitting open brown wrapping paper and revealing a long white carton beneath. Something rolls back and forth inside. â€Å"You’re telling me that a ten-year-old boy disemboweled a serial killer. A serial cannibal. You somehow know this.† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"I find that extremely difficult to believe.† â€Å"Based on the father, I guess I can understand that. Fred’s . . .† A wimp is what comes to mind, but that is both unfair and untrue. â€Å"Fred’s tenderhearted,† Jack says. â€Å"Judy, though . . .† â€Å"Backbone,† Dale says. â€Å"She does have that, I’m told.† Jack gives his friend a humorless grin. He’s got the buzzing confined to a small portion of his brain, but in that one small portion it’s shrieking like a fire alarm. They’re almost there. â€Å"She certainly does,† he tells Dale. â€Å"And so does the boy. He’s . . . brave.† What Jack has almost said is He’s a prince. â€Å"And he’s alive.† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"Chained in a shed somewhere.† â€Å"Right.† â€Å"Behind Burnside’s house.† â€Å"Uh-huh.† â€Å"If I’ve got the geography right, that places him somewhere in the woods near Schubert and Gale.† Jack smiles and says nothing. â€Å"All right,† Dale says heavily. â€Å"What have I got wrong?† â€Å"It doesn’t matter. Which is good, because it’s impossible to explain.† Jack just hopes Dale’s mind is screwed down tightly, because it’s apt to take one hell of a pounding in the next hour or so. His fingernail slits the tape holding the box closed. He opens it. There’s bubble wrap beneath. Jack pulls it out, tosses it into the footwell, and looks at Ty Marshall’s Brewer Bash prize a prize he won even though he apparently never entered the contest. Jack lets out a little sigh of awe. There’s enough kid left in him to react to the object that he sees, even though he never played the game once he was too old for Little League. Because there’s something about a bat, isn’t there? Something that speaks to our primitive beliefs about the purity of struggle and the strength of our team. The home team. Of the right and the white. Surely Bernard Malamud knew it; Jack has read The Natural a score of times, always hoping for a different ending (and when the movie offered him one, he hated it), always loving the fact that Roy Hobbs named his cudgel Wonderboy. And never mind the critics with all their stuffy talk about the Arthurian legend and phallic symbols; sometimes a cigar is just a smoke and sometimes a bat is just a bat. A big stick. Something to hit home runs with. â€Å"Holy wow,† Dale says, glancing over. And he looks younger. Boyish. Eyes wide. So Jack isn’t the only one, it seems. â€Å"Whose bat?† Jack lifts it carefully from the box. Written up the barrel in black Magic Marker is this message: To Tyler Marshall Keep Slugging! Your pal, Richie Sexson â€Å"Richie Sexson,† Jack says. â€Å"Who’s Richie Sexson?† â€Å"Big slugger for the Brewers,† Dale says. â€Å"Is he as good as Roy Hobbs?† â€Å"Roy † Then Dale grins. â€Å"Oh, in that movie! Robert Redford, right? No I don’t think . Hey, what are you doing?† Still holding the bat (in fact he almost bashes Dale in the right cheekbone with the end of it), Jack reaches over and honks the horn. â€Å"Pull over,† he says. â€Å"This is it. Those dopes were out here only yesterday and they’re going right past it.† Dale pulls over on the shoulder, brings the cruiser to a jerky stop, and puts it in park. When he looks over at Jack, his face has gone remarkably pale. â€Å"Oh man, Jack I don’t feel so good. Maybe it was breakfast. Christ, I hope I’m not going to start puking.† â€Å"That buzzing you hear in your head, is that from breakfast?† Jack inquires. Dale’s eyes go wide. â€Å"How do you â€Å" â€Å"Because I hear it, too. And feel it in my stomach. It’s not your breakfast. It’s Black House.† Jack holds out the squeeze bottle. â€Å"Go on. Dab some more around your nostrils. Get some right up in. You’ll feel better.† Projecting absolute confidence. Because it’s not about secret weapons or secret formulas; it’s certainly not about honey. It’s about belief. They have left the realm of the rational and have entered the realm of slippage. Jack knows it for certain as soon as he opens the car door. Ahead of him, the bikes swerve and come back. Beezer, an impatient look on his face, is shaking his head: No, no, not here. Dale joins Jack at the front of the car. His face is still pale, but the skin around and below his nose is shiny with honey, and he looks steady enough on his feet. â€Å"Thanks, Jack. This is so much better. I don’t know how putting honey around my nose could affect my ears, but the buzzing’s better, too. It’s nothing but a low drone.† â€Å"Wrong place!† Beezer bawls as he pulls his Harley up to the front of the cruiser. â€Å"Nope,† Jack says calmly, looking at the unbroken woods. Sunlight on green leaves contrasting with crazy black zigzags of shadow. Everything trembling and unsteady, making mock of perspective. â€Å"This is it. The hideout of Mr. Munshun and the Black House Gang, as the Duke never said.† Now Doc’s bike adds to the din as he pulls up next to Beezer. â€Å"Beez is right! We were just out here yesterday, y’damn fool! Don’t you think you know what we’re talking about?† â€Å"This is just scrap woods on both sides,† Dale chimes in. He points across the road where, fifty yards or so southeast of their position, yellow police tape flutters from a pair of trees. â€Å"That’s the lane to Ed’s Eats, there. The place we want is probably beyond it â€Å" Even though you know it’s here, Jack thinks. Marvels, really. Why else have you gone and smeared yourself with honey like Pooh-bear on a lucky day? He shifts his gaze to Beezer and Doc, who are also looking remarkably unwell. Jack opens his mouth to speak to them . . . and something flutters at the upper edge of his vision. He restrains his natural impulse to look up and define the source of that movement. Something probably the old Travelin’ Jack part of him thinks it would be a very bad idea to do that. Something is watching them already. Better if it doesn’t know it’s been spotted. He puts the Richie Sexson bat down, leaning it against the side of the idling cruiser. He takes the honey from Dale and holds it out to the Beez. â€Å"Here you go,† he says, â€Å"lather up.† â€Å"There’s no point in it, you goddamn fool!† Beezer cries in exasperation. â€Å"This . . . ain’t . . . the place!† â€Å"Your nose is bleeding,† Jack says mildly. â€Å"Just a little. Yours too, Doc.† Doc wipes a finger under his nose and looks at the red smear, startled. He starts, â€Å"But I know this isn’t â€Å" That flutter again, at the top of Jack’s vision. He ignores it and points straight ahead. Beezer, Doc, and Dale all look, and Dale’s the first one to see it. â€Å"I’ll be damned,† he says softly. â€Å"A NO TRESPASSING sign. Was it there before?† â€Å"Yep,† Jack says. â€Å"Been there for thirty years or more, I’d guess.† â€Å"Fuck,† Beez says, and begins rubbing honey around his nose. He pokes generous wads of the stuff up his nostrils; resinous drops gleam in his red-brown Viking’s beard. â€Å"We woulda gone right on, Doctor. All the way to town. Hell, maybe all the way to Rapid City, South Dakota.† He hands the honey to Doc and grimaces at Jack. â€Å"I’m sorry, man. We should have known. No excuses.† â€Å"Where’s the driveway?† Dale’s asking, and then: â€Å"Oh. There it is. I could have sworn â€Å" â€Å"That there was nothing there, I know,† Jack says. He’s smiling. Looking at his friends. At the Sawyer Gang. He is certainly not looking at the black rags fluttering restively at the upper periphery of his vision, nor down at his waist, where his hand is slowly drawing the Ruger .357 from his waistband. He was always one of the best out there. He’d only won badges a couple of times when it was shooting from a stand, but when it came to the draw-and-fire competition, he did quite well. Top five, usually. Jack has no idea if this is a skill he’s retained, but he thinks he’s going to find out right now. Smiling at them, watching Doc swab his schnozz with honey, Jack says in a conversational voice: â€Å"Something’s watching us. Don’t look up. I’m going to try and shoot it.† â€Å"What is it?† Dale asks, smiling back. He doesn’t look up, only straight ahead. Now he can quite clearly see the shadowy lane that must lead to Burnside’s house. It wasn’t there, he could have sworn it wasn’t, but now it is. â€Å"It’s a pain in the ass,† Jack says, and suddenly swings the Ruger up, locking both hands around the stock. He’s firing almost before he sees with his eyes, and he catches the great dark crow crouched on the overhanging branch of an oak tree entirely by surprise. It gives one loud, shocked cry â€Å"AWWWWK!† and then it is torn apart on its roost. Blood flies against the faded blue summer sky. Feathers flutter down in clumps as dark as midnight shadows. And a body. It hits the shoulder in front of the lane with a heavy thud. One dark, glazing eye peers at Jack Sawyer with an expression of surprise. â€Å"Did you fire five or six?† Beezer asks in a tone of deep awe. â€Å"It was so fast I couldn’t tell.† â€Å"All of them,† Jack says. He guesses he’s still not too bad at draw-and-fire after all. â€Å"That’s one big fucking crow,† Doc says. â€Å"It’s not just any crow,† Jack tells him. â€Å"It’s Gorg.† He advances to the blasted body lying on the dirt. â€Å"How you doin’, fella? How do you feel?† He spits on Gorg, a luscious thick lunger. â€Å"That’s for luring the kids,† he says. Then, suddenly, he boots the crow’s corpse into the underbrush. It flies in a limp arc, the wings wrapping around the body like a shroud. â€Å"And that’s for fucking with Irma’s mother.† They are looking at him, all three of them, with identical expressions of stunned awe. Almost of fear. It’s a look that makes Jack tired, although he supposes he must accept it. He can remember his old friend Richard Sloat looking at him the same way, once Richard realized that what he called â€Å"Seabrook Island stuff † wasn’t confined to Seabrook Island. â€Å"Come on,† Jack says. â€Å"Everybody in the car. Let’s get it done.† Yes, and they must move quickly because a certain one-eyed gent will shortly be looking for Ty, too. Mr. Munshun. Eye of the King, Jack thinks. Eye of the abbalah. That’s what Judy meant Mr. Munshun. Whoever or whatever he really is. â€Å"Don’t like leaving the bikes out here by the side of the road, man.† Beezer says. â€Å"Anybody could come along and â€Å" â€Å"Nobody will see them,† Jack tells him. â€Å"Three or four cars have gone by since we parked, and no one’s so much as looked over at us. And you know why.† â€Å"We’ve already started to cross over, haven’t we?† Doc asks. â€Å"This is the edge of it. The border.† â€Å"Opopanax,† Jack says. The word simply pops out. â€Å"Huh?† Jack picks up Ty’s Richie Sexson bat and gets in on the passenger side of the cruiser. â€Å"It means let’s go,† he says. â€Å"Let’s get it done.† And so the Sawyer Gang takes its last ride up the wooded, poisonous lane that leads to Black House. The strong afternoon light quickly fades to the sullen glow of an overcast November evening. In the close-pressing trees on either side, dark shapes twine and crawl and sometimes fly. They don’t matter, much, Jack reckons; they are only phantoms. â€Å"You gonna reload that Roogalator?† Beezer asks from the back seat. â€Å"Nope,† Jack says, looking at the Ruger without much interest. â€Å"Think it’s done its job.† â€Å"What should we be ready for?† Dale asks in a thin voice. â€Å"Anything,† Jack replies. He favors Dale Gilbertson with a humorless grin. Ahead of them is a house that won’t keep its shape but whirls and wavers in the most distressing way. Sometimes it seems no bigger than a humble ranch house; a blink, and it seems to be a ragged monolith that blots out the entire sky; another blink and it appears to be a low, uneven construction stretching back under the forest canopy for what could be miles. It gives off a low hum that sounds like voices. â€Å"Be ready for anything at all.† How to cite Black House Chapter Twenty-seven, Essay examples

Community Health And Public Health Essay Example For Students

Community Health And Public Health Essay In the United States, community health field is anchored in the history of innovations of public health methods and programs aids at reducing risk factor prevalence, decreasing acute and chronic disease burden and injury occurrence, and promoting health (Goodman, Bunnel, Posner, 2014). â€Å"Community Health refers to the health status of a defined group of people and the actions and conditions, both private and public (governmental), to promote, protect, and preserve their health† (McKenzie et al., 2005). Personal health is all about body needs, requirements and limitations so that avoidable health difficulties can be prevented. Basically the major difference between two are that community health is about a group of people and personal health is concerned with individual health choices (UBC, n. d.).Community health depends on the personal health of many people in the community. Some can also define community health as personal health of the people and environmental services that helps in promoting positive health of the community. Some of the community services are, provision of health education, safe water supply, medical care, etc (Tutor Vista, n.d. ). 2) Public health assessment can be defined as evaluation of data and information on a public health subject matter for the purpose of assessing the impact on public health. Many government health agencies conducts these assessments for assuring the safety of public. Agency for toxic substances and disease registry conducts public health assessments for the purpose of determining the extent of exposure of harmful substances. The benefits of the public health assessment is that it helps in planning for the future health needs of the public by developing policy and other pr. . act†, which is an article of Time.Com, â€Å"Youth marijuana use is associated with higher future risk of using other drugs, including alcohol, tobacco, opioids, methamphetamine and cocaine. Use by teens is also associated with decreased school performance and memory impairments that last as long as 28 days after use. There is also a demonstrated correlation between early and heavy marijuana use and the development of psychotic symptoms and disorders like schizophrenia in adulthood among certain populations.†(Next step community solution, 2015).Marijuana has both short term and long term effect on human brain, which is one of the most important part of human body. Study showed decreased IQ level in people who have smoked marijuana for a period of time. Most importantly, it creates addiction and any addiction is not good as it effects people’s mental health (NIH, 2015).

Forensic science course free essay sample

Herculaneum is important to society because they have a better chance of piecing together the mysteries of Herculaneum than any other site. All the evidence has been well preserved making it easier to piece together this ancient society. 3. What are some of the challenges that archeologists face when examining the city of Herculaneum? A challenge that the archeologists faced when examining the city of Herculaneum was the presence of decay and the risk of it falling apart. 4. How do you think the archeological investigation of Herculaneum relates to forensic anthropology? In what ways are similar techniques and processes used in both of these situations? I think the archeological investigation of Herculaneum relates to forensic anthropology in the way in which both are trying to discover what happened by analyzing the skeletons, paintings, or any other evidence found. Some similar techniques and processes that are used in both situations are looking at the bones to try and figure out the gender or age, and also trying to determine the cause of death. We will write a custom essay sample on Forensic science course or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page 5. What is surprising about the ruins in Herculaneum? How is this different than Pompeii? In Herculaneum, most of the sites were preserved extremely well and there were almost no human skeletons unlike Pompeii which had many more. 6. How do archeologists know that other people have been to the ruins in Herculaneum before them? What were the people searching for? What dangers did they face? Archeologists know that other people have been to the ruins before them due to the discovery of strange labyrinth of ancient tunnels. They were looking for treasure. They risked suffocation or dying by dangerous rock falls. 7. How did the bodies in Herculaneum differ from those in Pompeii? In Pompeii the bodies of humans and animals were preserved in a cast which showed a lot about life and everyday life in Pompeii but the most of the bodies in Herculaneum were incarcerated in the eruption but the bodies that have been found have been preserved but are very fragile. 8. Do you think it would be interesting to work on a site like Herculaneum to discover what happened? Why or why not? How would this work differ from a traditional crime scene? I do think it would be interesting to work on a site like Herculaneum because it can give you an insight on a whole new culture and it’s basically a secret city that not that many people are aware about so it would be interesting to find some major discovery. I think this would differ from a traditional crime by the fact that you’d find older and more fragile evidence compared to a more recent crime scene which would have less fragile and newer evidence.