King tuts tomb

Egypt selected pharaoh age 9 out of 1334-1323 BC during time of â€Å"New Kingdom† Died at around 18 or 19 out of 1352 B. C. Demise obscure Located in the Valley of the Kings (upper Egypt west of Nile) †contains numerous burial place of rulers from the New realm Howard Carter †worked In Egypt for a long time before disclosure, began at 17 duplicating divider scenes and inscriptions.In 1907, George Herbert the fifth was the Earl of Canaan place in England (Lord Canaan) recruited Howard Carter after his first season f looking for destinations was fruitless. Canaan supported Carter's entire exhuming, and if not for Lord Canaan, he would not have had the option to subsidize it himself. They Discovered the Tomb on November fourth 1922. The burial chamber was Incredibly well Intact, which was very dumbfounding for them to see, in light of the fact that most others discovered were truly well destroyed.It had more than 3,500 articles in it and took around ten years to uneart h and disclose on the grounds that he snapped a picture, Drawer it, and indexed it each and every ancient rarity Layout †waiting room biggest room, discovered 6 disassembled chariots, creature sofas, chests, bows and bolts, 2 enormous sculptures of the ruler guarding a fixed entryway everything was put away messily which demonstrated theft presumably by the watchmen Annex (like a storeroom) †littlest room contained the greater part of burial chambers substance. Several reed crates and earthenware Jars, expound urns mind boggling structures and some imperial furniture, for example, love seats Burial chamber †just live with divider artworks. Here the lords stone coffin (final resting place) lay. There were 3 caskets making up the stone casket they all had faces on them. ND the cover alone weighed more than 1 and a quarter tone. 4 places of worship, took 4 months to disassemble, extremely weak a few sections weight right around a tone. He put off taking a shot at them fo r a long time so he could take a shot at the mummy. The mummy had more than 143 Jewels and special necklaces on It or In the wrappings, gold veil, crown, counterfeit facial hair and gold hands. The body remains were really consumed with smoldering heat from the scented oils that were put upon the body during entombment Treasury †this was commanded by Tutankhamen canonic sanctuary which held the entirety of his organs.A effective route of the Underworld will permit Tutankhamen to be invited into the Afterlife as an everlasting. South Wall †The God-King invited to the Afterlife by Anabas divine force of preserving Hath, goddess of the west. Tutankhamen, who is presently godlike, will start the nurturing day by day custom. These artistic creations are noteworthy on the grounds that they show that TUTU as a Pharaoh and the general public at the time were exceptionally strict and clearly had solid convictions in death and the black market and they were extremely dedicated tendi ng to death in the right way.

England :: essays research papers

History of England The Ice Age finished around 8000 BC, during which the Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons lived in Great Britain. As a result of the liquefying ice the water level rose and the English Channel was made, making Great Britain an island. The Middle Stone Age went in this new woodland and bog, trailed by the New Stone Age when the act of cultivating started. During this period a ton of new individuals came to Britain. By 2500 BC the Beaker individuals had moved there. They were named after their stoneware, and noted for their bronze devices and colossal stone landmarks, similar to Stonehenge. These Monuments demonstrate they had a great financial association just as their specialized aptitude and capacity. Around 1000 BC the Celts assumed control over the British Isles, they additionally took over the vast majority of western Europe. Due to their iron furrows, iron weapons, and pony drawn chariots, they had the option to assume control over the occupants of the islands. Their ministers ruled their general public. Ruler Alfred became lord of Wessex in perhaps the breaking point. The Danes, viking powers that had attacked the English drifts in the eighth century, intended to assume control over England. All that held them up were Wessex and Alfred. After Alfred's triumph at Edington in 878 AD he made the Danish ruler Guthrum acknowledge sanctification and a division of England occurred. The two sections were Wessex and Danelaw. By making a naval force, redesigning the volunteer army, permitting warriors to switch among cultivating and battling, and constructing fortifications, Alfred had the option to assume control over London and start to take over tthe Danish. The battel to assume control over the Danish was finished by Alfred's child, Edward the Elder, and by his grandson Athelstan. Athelstan won a fight at Brunanburth in 937 AD and the greater part of the remainder of the century was quiet. Holy person Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury had the option to reestablish the Church. The success of the Danelaw implied the production of bound together government for the entirety of England. In spite of this the Danish attacks came back again during Ethelred II's rule. In 1154 Henry II took the seat. During his rule he reinforced the legislature, built up the customary law, made the excellent jury, and endeavored to decrease the locale of chapel courts. He was restricted by Thomas Becket, his previous chancellor, who King Henry had made ecclesiastical overseer. His indignation at Becket prompted his homicide. His domain included portion of France and lordship over Ireland and Scotland.

Well, at least you didnt fail, right

Well, at least you didn’t fail, right An hour-to-hour (kinda sorta somewhat close to one) description of the last five days, with exaggeration inserted only when absolutely, absolutely necessary Saturday, 2 PM I wake up. Come on, there was a party at 5th East the night before. Its right across the street, and walking there involved minimal effort. If I could cross campus for a Baker party the Friday before, then skipping out on this would only be a sign of pure laziness. 2:02 PM Brain function starts returning. Hmm, I have two tests and a pset to turn in on Wednesday. 2:03 PM Roll over, reach for computer, start watching an episode from the fifth season of Scrubs. Decide that if I ever buy a half acre of land, I will build a deck on it à la JD. 2:21 PM Wait, I have what on Wednesday? Okay, so this will be painful but doable. But its Saturday, and according to my 18.03/Differential Equations instructor Arthur Mattucks addition to the 0x10 commandments (as sent in his last email to the class), Thou shalt not tool* from sundown Friday to high noon Sunday. Hello, procrastination. 2:23 PM I remember the red formal dress I wore to an nowhere-near-formal party last night. (The dress was for the MedLinks Dating Auction, which went really well we rose over $1000 for Tutoring Plus.) The thought makes me smile. Oh hey, self-esteem. Its nice to see you again. Am sufficiently distracted. Go to the mall with Kel 10 because were hungry and tired of the food on campus. Spend the rest of my Saturday hanging out with friends from Senior Haus. Refuse to look at or even think about work. Sunday, 12 PM What have I done? All right. Must work must work must work. Will only think in numbers and chair conformations from here on out. 1-3 PM 5.12 (Organic Chemistry I) practice exam. 3-5 PM 18.03 practice exam. 6-7 PM 8.02 (Physics II) pset. 7 PM- 12 AM Watching the Oscars with the Musical Theatre Guild. Should really get around to watching Little Miss Sunshine sometime soon. 12-2 AM DJ Awesome and the Wonderfriends in Walker. Go go gadget radio! Hanna and I play obscure music with far too much electronic beeping and were proud of it. Have probably been listening to too much Enon, since Disposable Parts has been on repeat in my head for a week already. As the song is less than two minutes long to begin with, this is nothing good. 2AM Tired tired tired need sleep. Monday, 9 AM 5.12 review 11 AM 5.12 recitation. Am still wondering whether it is a benefit or an inconvenience to have this class directly before lecture. 12 PM 5.12 lecture. 1 PM annoy people in the MIT admissions office, just because I can. (Hi, Nance.) 2 PM 18.03 lecture. 3-6 PM 5.12 5.12 5.12 5.12 5.12 5.12 5.12 5.12 5.12 6 PM focus group for a National Institutes of Health study on minority students majoring in science and engineering. The ensuing discussion is really engaging, but 7:30 PM leave early to attend two-hour 5.12 exam review. Am in love with Kimberly Berkowski. Briefly consider asking her to have my babies, until I realize that Jose 10 across the hall would kill me for stealing her before I even had the chance. Perish the thought. 10 PM Brain is melting from overexposure to organic chemistry. Continue work on 8.02 pset. 12 AM Dear electricity and magnetism, I hate you. Not you, Gauss Law. Youre cool. The rest of you can go away. No love, Keri three minutes later mmmm sleep. Tuesday, 8 AM Wake up for 9:30 24.900 (Introduction to Linguistics) lecture. Am starting to forget that I am in fact registered for a fourth class. 11 AM-1 PM 18.03 18.03 18.03. 1 PM 18.03 recitation. 2 PM please dont let me screw up the first two exams of term come on optimism I am awesome I am awesome I can do this I am starting to forget anything I have ever learned about sentence structure and grammar. The irony of this occurring mere hours after attending a linguistics lecture does not escape me. 3-5 PM 8.02. The concepts related to conductors and capacitance make sense. Apparently AP Physics B was at least halfway useful. Yayyyy. 5-7 PM 18.03 18.03 18.03. Lather, rinse, repeat. Have spent more time in the lounge off the Infinite than in my room since Sunday. Should probably move in there the tourist friendly glass windows may take a while to get used to (Look! A real life MIT student! And it appears to be banging its head into its textbook in despair!), but the square footage is a definite plus. 7-8 PM 18.03 exam review. The TA knows what hes doing. This is a godsend after the disaster that was 18.02 last term. 9 PM Check email. Have made it through the first round of applications for a summer job as an RA/TA to high school students taking advanced classes at Northwestern University. Sweet! Have been saying sweet far too often lately. 11 PM OKAY SLEEP (Please, please, please make the complex numbers stop floating around in my head) Wednesday, 9 AM Had a dream in which I was eaten by a linear first-order ordinary differential equation. Feeling thoroughly prepared for this afternoons exam, albeit terrified. Complete and turn in 8.02 pset. 12 PM Pick up a Java Chip frappucino from Starbucks before rocking the 5.12 exam. 1:30 PM Start feeling sick. Not test anxiety sick, but well, this certainly isnt good sick. Hope this doesnt screw with my ability to take 18.03 exam. 2 PM Suffer through mysterious stomach cramps during entirety of exam. 3:30 PM cramps are gone in time for my Upgrade your Health and Happiness PE class. Dear fates, Why do you hate me? You get no love either Keri 5 PM six-mile run in the Z Center. 6 PM Return to the lounge off the Infinite and start to pull out 18.03 notebook. Realize the rest of my week is free and clear. Am frozen in general shock and disbelief. 6:01 PM Havent blogged in a while. Take out journal, start writing: An hour-to-hour (kinda sorta somewhat close to one) description of the last five days, with exaggeration inserted only when absolutely, absolutely necessary *tool: at MIT, to study like nothing else. Antonym: to punt, or not do work. Punting problem set after problem set = bad idea.

Rebutting Arguments to Legalize Euthanasia or Assisted...

Rebutting Arguments to Legalize Euthanasia or Assisted Suicide This essay focuses on several of the most common arguments in favor of the legalization of euthanasia or assisted suicide - and rebuts them. The language is simple, or, as they say, in laymans terms so as to be easily understandable. The sources are from professional journals, internet websites, and news outlets. The first common argument favoring euthanasia or assisted suicide is this: Since euthanasia and assisted suicide take place anyway, isnt it better to legalize them so theyll be practiced under careful guidelines and so that doctors will have to report these activities? That sounds good but it doesnt work. Physicians who do not follow the†¦show more content†¦According to the third annual report issued by OHD, physicians were present at only 52% of reported deaths.(Oregon Feb.21) In the Netherlands, prior to enactment of the 2001 law, physicians were assured that they would not be prosecuted for euthanasia or assisted suicide as long as they followed guidelines and filed a report after the patients death. However, official surveys of Dutch doctors, in which physicians were granted both immunity and anonymity, revealed that only 41% of euthanasia and assisted suicide deaths were reported.(Van) Cases which failed to meet practice guidelines were most likely to go unreported.(Id. 1710) Another popular argument in favor of legalizing euthanasia or assisted suicide is this: Isnt euthanasia or assisted suicide sometimes the only way to relieve excruciating pain? Quite the contrary. Euthanasia activists exploit the natural fear people have of suffering and dying. They often claim that, without euthanasia or assisted suicide, people will be forced to endure unbearable pain: During a radio debate, T. Patrick Hill (who was then an official of Choice in Dying and currently serves on the board of directors of the New York Citizens Committee on Health CareShow MoreRelatedThe Concept and Origin of the Assisted Suicide Movement3079 Words   |  12 PagesOne of the most contentious issues in the entire field of healthcare and end-of-life care is the notion of assisted suicide, wherein the individual who wishes to end his or her own life is assisted by someone else, usually a physician. As Werner (2005, p. 135) notes, straightforward answers to the difficult questions concerning the issues of euthanasia and assisted suicide are not yet available, but one can at least have a more robust conception of the issues history, which in turn allows one

A Literary And Historical Standpoint - 2069 Words

Although it is practical from a literary and historical standpoint, object-driven analyses of Shakespeare’s First Folio fail to account for, as Brown says, â€Å"the story of the object asserting itself as a thing.† By treating the First Folio as only a book meant to be read for information these analyses let it stagnate in a subject-object binary which leads us to falsely believe that the subject creates knowledge from the object. Or as Brown says, we are stuck viewing the object as a â€Å"code by which our interpretive attention makes them meaningful† (Brown 4). This line of thinking is problematic because the object then lacks agency. When the object transitions to a thing, the binary no longer applies and we can see that it has knowledge with or without a subject involved. Additionally, this shift out of the binary allows for the thing to become its own subject. If, as Baudrillard believes â€Å"it is the subject that totalizes the world† (qtd in Bro wn) then this implies that the thing is not merely passively impacted by the world but actively impacts the world with its presence. However, only viewing the First Folio as a thing in opposition to an object also limits our study of it. Instead, I propose that we should examine the story of an object becoming a thing. Before I further my argument I want to take a moment to fully examine the difference between an object and a thing and why current scholarship has failed to acknowledge the importance of the First Folio becoming a thing.Show MoreRelated The Bible And The Word inspire Essay859 Words   |  4 Pagesthat the authors were scribes, reproducing what was instilled in them by God. This idea is strengthened by looking at distinct examples from the scripture that show that scripture is inspired, and not made up. 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Historical literary theory explores the cultural background of the time period or the author background. Author background is extremely appropriate to application for Kafka’s book Metamorphosis because various characters in the book are reproductions of individuals in his personal life. Psychological literary theory is analysis of the book from psychological viewpoint. By applying psychoanalysis to MetamorphosisRead MoreHeart of Darkness Themes Essay1654 Words   |  7 PagesJacob Lachini Ms. Batten ENG 4U1-03 Monday, October 29th, 2012. Literary Criticisms in Relation to Heart of Darkness Interpretation is the revenge of the intellect upon art. Even more. It is the revenge of the intellect upon the world. To interpret is to impoverish, to deplete the world -- in order to set up a shadow world of meanings,† Susan Sontag. It is a persons interpretation of any form of literary work that defines itself, what the author intends a reader to discover may be completelyRead MoreEssay about Stephen Crane and The Civil War895 Words   |  4 Pages(website).   Despite his evident utilization of these sources, Crane purposefully failed to mention the actual battle in his publication of The Red Badge of Courage.   As a novel that aspired to be a psychological portrayal of fear, neglecting the historical framework became an intentional stylistic technique without which the underlined theme would inherently have been lost.   Had Crane concretized Henry’s experience with a named battle, the reactions to the novel would have altered considerably.   InevitablyRead More A Psychoanalytic Analysis of To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell639 Words   |  3 Pages A satisfactory understanding of a literary work necessitates a multi-level investigation—of the poem’s context, of the text itself, of the poem’s socio-political implications, of the poem’s trans-cultural implications, and of the Christian implications. To see a great work of fiction or a great poem primarily as a psychological case study,it means that we have to miss its real significance,its real meaning.Literary interpretation and psychoanalysis are twoRead MoreBook Review: Journey Through the Old Testament1538 Words   |  6 Pagesusage of journaling, which gives students an opportunity to internalize, reflect, and offer their own interpretations and opinions about varying events and historical figures found in the Old Testament. Another pretty frequent activity includes historical timelines, which is ideal for assisting students in becoming familiar with the overall historical context in which events occurred. The timelines are particularly useful in this respect, since they allow students to gauge when certain events happenedRead MoreSurvival of the Fittest1409 Words   |  6 Pagesthe world, and he was by no means impressed. By examining the different critical lenses of The Time Machine, the reader can see how H.G. 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Jumpha Lahiri’s â€Å"Going Ashore† brings the story of her twoRead MoreCriticism Of Anne Bradstreets Poetry871 Words   |  4 PagesLiterary Theo ry and Anne Bradstreet’s Poems Anne Bradstreet was not the typical Puritan author. She wrote sweet and loving poems that greatly contrasted from other writers of her time. She did not write the ever so popular sermons that told people that they were going to hell and there was nothing they could do about it. Bradstreet was a rarity in Puritan times, she was a very educated woman that worked on something other than being a woman in the household. She was one of a kind and the beginning

Lamb The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 4 Free Essays

Chapter 4 Yet another reason that I loathe the heavenly scum with whom I share this room: today I found that I had offended our intrepid room service waiter, Jesus. How was I to know? When he brought our pizza for dinner, I gave him one of the American silver coins that we received from the airport sweet shop called Cinnabon. He scoffed at me – scoffed – then, thinking better of it, he said, â€Å"Seà ±or, I know you are foreign, so you do not know, but this is a very insulting tip. We will write a custom essay sample on Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 4 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Better you just sign the room service slip so I get the fee that is added automatically. I tell you this because you have been very kind, and I know you do not mean to offend, but another of the waiters would spit in your food if you should offer him this.† I glared at the angel, who, as usual, was lying on the bed watching television, and for the first time I realized that he did not understand Jesus’ language. He did not possess the gift of tongues he had bestowed on me. He spoke Aramaic to me, and he seemed to know Hebrew and enough English to understand television, but of Spanish he understood not a word. I apologized to Jesus and sent him on his way with a promise that I would make it up to him, then I wheeled on the angel. â€Å"You fool, these coins, these dimes, are nearly worthless in this country.† â€Å"What do you mean, they look like the silver dinars we dug up in Jerusalem, they are worth a fortune.† He was right, in a way. After he called me up from the dead I led him to a cemetery in the valley of Ben Hiddon, and there, hidden behind a stone where Judas had put it two thousand years ago, was the blood money – thirty silver dinars. But for a little tarnish, they looked just as they did on the day I had taken them, and they were almost identical to the coin this country calls the dime (except for the image of Tiberius on the dinars, and some other Caesar on the dime). We had taken the dinars to an antiquities dealer in the old city (which looked nearly the same as it did when I’d last walked there, except that the Temple was gone and in its place two great mosques). The merchant gave us twenty thousand dollars in American money for them. It was this money that we had traveled on, and deposited at the hotel desk for our expenses. The angel told me the dimes must have the same worth as the dinars, and I, like a fool, believed him. â€Å"You should have told me,† I said to the angel. â€Å"If I could leave this room I would know myself.† â€Å"You have work to do,† the angel said. Then he leapt to his feet and shouted at the television, â€Å"The wrath of the Lord shall fall upon ye, Stephanos!† â€Å"What in the hell are you shouting at?† The angel wagged a finger at the screen, â€Å"He has exchanged Catherine’s baby for its evil twin, which he fathered with her sister while she was in a coma, yet Catherine does not realize his evil deed, as he has had his face changed to impersonate the bank manager who is foreclosing on Catherine’s husband’s business. If I was not trapped here I would personally drag the fiend straight to hell.† For days now the angel had been watching serial dramas on television, alternately shouting at the screen or bursting into tears. He had stopped reading over my shoulder, so I had just tried to ignore him, but now I realized what was going on. â€Å"It’s not real, Raziel.† â€Å"What do you mean?† â€Å"It’s drama, like the Greeks used to do. They are actors in a play.† â€Å"No, no one could pretend to such evil.† â€Å"That’s not all. Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus? Not real. Characters in a play.† â€Å"You lying dog!† â€Å"If you’d ever leave the room and look at how real people talk you’d know that, you yellow-haired cretin. But no, you stay here perched on my shoulder like a trained bird. I am dead two thousand years and even I know better.† (I still need to get a look at that book in the dresser. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could goad the angel into giving me five minutes privacy.) â€Å"You know nothing,† said Raziel. â€Å"I have destroyed whole cities in my time.† â€Å"Sort of makes me wonder if you destroyed the right ones. That’d be embarrassing, huh?† Then an advertisement came on the screen for a magazine that promised to â€Å"fill in all the blanks† and give the real inside story to all of soap operas: Soap Opera Digest. I watched the angel’s eyes widen. He grabbed the phone and rang the front desk. â€Å"What are you doing?† â€Å"I need that book.† â€Å"Have them send up Jesus,† I said. â€Å"He’ll help you get it.† On our first day of work, Joshua and I were up before dawn. We met near the well and filled the waterskins our fathers had given us, then ate our breakfasts, flatbread and cheese, as we walked together to Sepphoris. The road, although packed dirt most of the way, was smooth and easy to walk. (If Rome saw to anything in its territories, it was the lifelines of its army.) As we walked we watched the rock-strewn hills turn pink under the rising sun, and I saw Joshua shudder as if a chill wind had danced up his spine. â€Å"The glory of God is in everything we see,† he said. â€Å"We must never forget that.† â€Å"I just stepped in camel dung. Tomorrow let’s leave after it’s light out.† â€Å"I just realized it, that is why the old woman wouldn’t live again. I forgot that it wasn’t my power that made her arise, it was the Lord’s. I brought her back for the wrong reason, out of arrogance, so she died a second time.† â€Å"It squished over the side of my sandal. Well, that’s going to smell all day.† â€Å"But perhaps it was because I did not touch her. When I’ve brought other creatures back to life, I’ve always touched them.† â€Å"Is there something in the Law about taking your camel off the road to do his business? There should be. If not the Law of Moses, then the Romans should have one. I mean, they won’t hesitate to crucify a Jew who rebels, there should be some punishment for messing up their roads. Don’t you think? I’m not saying crucifixion, but a good smiting in the mouth or something.† â€Å"But how could I have touched the corpse when it is forbidden by the Law? The mourners would have stopped me.† â€Å"Can we stop for a second so I can scrape off my sandal? Help me find a stick. That pile was as big as my head.† â€Å"You’re not listening to me, Biff.† â€Å"I am listening. Look, Joshua, I don’t think the Law applies to you. I mean, you’re the Messiah, God is supposed to tell you what he wants, isn’t he?† â€Å"I ask, but I receive no answer.† â€Å"Look, you’re doing fine. Maybe that woman didn’t live again because she was stubborn. Old people are that way. You have to throw water on my grandfather to get him up from his nap. Try a young dead person next time.† â€Å"What if I am not really the Messiah?† â€Å"You mean you’re not sure? The angel didn’t give it away? You think that God might be playing a joke on you? I don’t think so. I don’t know the Torah as well as you, Joshua, but I don’t remember God having a sense of humor.† Finally, a grin. â€Å"He gave me you as a best friend, didn’t he?† â€Å"Help me find a stick.† â€Å"Do you think I’ll make a good stonemason?† â€Å"Just don’t be better at it than I am. That’s all I ask.† â€Å"You stink.† â€Å"What have I been saying?† â€Å"You really think Maggie likes me?† â€Å"Are you going to be like this every morning? Because if you are, you can walk to work alone.† The gates of Sepphoris were like a funnel of humanity. Farmers poured out into their fields and groves, craftsmen and builders crowded in, while merchants hawked their wares and beggars moaned at the roadside. Joshua and I stopped outside the gates to marvel and were nearly run down by a man leading a string of donkeys laden with baskets of stone. It wasn’t that we had never seen a city before. Jerusalem was fifty times larger than Sepphoris, and we had been there many times for feast days, but Jerusalem was a Jewish city – it was the Jewish city. Sepphoris was the Roman fortress city of Galilee, and as soon as we saw the statue of Venus at the gates we knew that this was something different. I elbowed Joshua in the ribs. â€Å"Graven image.† I had never seen the human form depicted before. â€Å"Sinful,† Joshua said. â€Å"She’s naked.† â€Å"Don’t look.† â€Å"She’s completely naked.† â€Å"It is forbidden. We should go away from here, find your father.† He caught me by my sleeve and dragged me through the gates into the city. â€Å"How can they allow that?† I asked. â€Å"You’d think that our people would tear it down.† â€Å"They did, a band of Zealots. Joseph told me. The Romans caught them and crucified them by this road.† â€Å"You never told me that.† â€Å"Joseph told me not to speak of it.† â€Å"You could see her breasts.† â€Å"Don’t think about it.† â€Å"How can I not think about it? I’ve never seen a breast without a baby attached to it. They’re more – more friendly in pairs like that.† â€Å"Which way to where we are supposed to work?† â€Å"My father said to come to the western corner of the city and we would see where the work was being done.† â€Å"Then come along.† He was still dragging me, his head down, stomping along like an angry mule. â€Å"Do you think Maggie’s breasts will look like that?† My father had been commissioned to build a house for a wealthy Greek on the western side of the city. When Joshua and I arrived my father was already there, directing the slaves who were hoisting a cut stone into place on the wall. I suppose I expected something different. I suppose I was surprised that anyone, even a slave, would do as my father instructed. The slaves were Nubians, Egyptians, Phoenicians, criminals, debtors, spoils of war, accidents of birth; they were wiry, filthy men, many wearing nothing more than sandals and a loincloth. In another life they might have commanded an army or lived in a palace, but now they sweated in the morning chill, moving stones heavy enough to break a donkey. â€Å"Are these your slaves?† Joshua asked my father. â€Å"Am I a rich man, Joshua? No, these slaves belong to the Romans. The Greek who is building this house has hired them for the construction.† â€Å"Why do they do as you ask? There are so many of them. You are only one man.† My father hung his head. â€Å"I hope that you never see what the lead tips of a Roman whip do to a man’s body. All of these men have, and even seeing it has broken their spirit as men. I pray for them every night.† â€Å"I hate the Romans,† I said. â€Å"Do you, little one, do you?† A man’s voice from behind. â€Å"Hail, Centurion,† my father said, his eyes going wide. Joshua and I turned to see Justus Gallicus, the centurion from the funeral at Japhia, standing among the slaves. â€Å"Alphaeus, it seems you are raising a litter of Zealots.† My father put his hands on my and Joshua’s shoulders. â€Å"This is my son, Levi, and his friend Joshua. They begin their apprenticeship today. Just boys,† he said, by way of apology. Justus approached, looked quickly at me, then stared at Joshua for a long time. â€Å"I know you, boy. I’ve seen you before.† â€Å"The funeral at Japhia,† I said quickly. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the wasp-waisted short sword that hung from the centurion’s belt. â€Å"No,† the Roman seemed to be searching his memory. â€Å"Not Japhia. I’ve seen this face in a picture.† â€Å"That can’t be,† my father said. â€Å"We are forbidden by our faith from depicting the human form.† Justus glared at him. â€Å"I am not a stranger to your people’s primitive beliefs, Alphaeus. Still, this boy is familiar.† Joshua stared up at the centurion with a completely blank expression. â€Å"You feel for these slaves, boy? You would free them if you could?† Joshua nodded. â€Å"I would. A man’s spirit should be his own to give to God.† â€Å"You know, there was a slave about eighty years ago who talked like you. He raised an army of slaves against Rome, beat back two of our armies, took over all the territories south of Rome. It’s a story every Roman soldier must learn.† â€Å"Why, what happened?† I asked. â€Å"We crucified him,† Justus said. â€Å"By the side of the road, and his body was eaten by ravens. The lesson we all learn is that nothing can stand against Rome. A lesson you need to learn, boy, along with your stonecutting.† Just then another Roman soldier approached, a legionnaire, not wearing the cape or the helmet crest of the centurion. He said something to Justus in Latin, then looked at Joshua and paused. In rough Aramaic he said, â€Å"Hey, didn’t I see that kid on some bread once?† â€Å"Wasn’t him,† I said. â€Å"Really? Sure looks like him.† â€Å"Nope, that was another kid on the bread.† â€Å"It was me,† said Joshua. I backhanded him across the forehead, knocking him to the ground. â€Å"No it wasn’t. He’s insane. Sorry.† The soldier shook his head and hurried off after Justus. I offered a hand to help Joshua up. â€Å"You’re going to have to learn to lie.† â€Å"I am? But I feel like I’m here to tell the truth.† â€Å"Yeah, sure, but not now.† I don’t exactly know what I expected it would be like working as a stonemason, but I know that in less than a week Joshua was having second thoughts about not becoming a carpenter. Cutting great stones with small iron chisels was very hard work. Who knew? â€Å"Look around, do you see any trees?† Joshua mocked. â€Å"Rocks, Josh, rocks.† â€Å"It’s only hard because we don’t know what we’re doing. It will get easier.† Joshua looked at my father, who was stripped to the waist, chiseling away on a stone the size of a donkey, while a dozen slaves waited to hoist it into place. He was covered with gray dust and streams of sweat drew dark lines between cords of muscle straining in his back and arms. â€Å"Alphaeus,† Joshua called, â€Å"does the work get easier once you know what you are doing?† â€Å"Your lungs grow thick with stone dust and your eyes bleary from the sun and fragments thrown up by the chisel. You pour your lifeblood out into works of stone for Romans who will take your money in taxes to feed soldiers who will nail your people to crosses for wanting to be free. Your back breaks, your bones creak, your wife screeches at you, and your children torment you with open, begging mouths, like greedy baby birds in the nest. You go to bed every night so tired and beaten that you pray to the Lord to send the angel of death to take you in your sleep so you don’t have to face another morning. It also has its downside.† â€Å"Thanks,† Joshua said. He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. â€Å"I for one, am excited,† I said. â€Å"I’m ready to cut some stone. Stand back, Josh, my chisel is on fire. Life is stretched out before us like a great bazaar, and I can’t wait to taste the sweets to be found there.† Josh tilted his head like a bewildered dog. â€Å"I didn’t get that from your father’s answer.† â€Å"It’s sarcasm, Josh.† â€Å"Sarcasm?† â€Å"It’s from the Greek, sarkasmos. To bite the lips. It means that you aren’t really saying what you mean, but people will get your point. I invented it, Bartholomew named it.† â€Å"Well, if the village idiot named it, I’m sure it’s a good thing.† â€Å"There you go, you got it.† â€Å"Got what?† â€Å"Sarcasm.† â€Å"No, I meant it.† â€Å"Sure you did.† â€Å"Is that sarcasm?† â€Å"Irony, I think.† â€Å"What’s the difference?† â€Å"I haven’t the slightest idea.† â€Å"So you’re being ironic now, right?† â€Å"No, I really don’t know.† â€Å"Maybe you should ask the idiot.† â€Å"Now you’ve got it.† â€Å"What?† â€Å"Sarcasm.† â€Å"Biff, are you sure you weren’t sent here by the Devil to vex me?† â€Å"Could be. How am I doing so far? You feel vexed?† â€Å"Yep. And my hands hurt from holding the chisel and mallet.† He struck the chisel with his wooden mallet and sprayed us both with stone fragments. â€Å"Maybe God sent me to talk you into being a stonemason so you would hurry up and go be the Messiah.† He struck the chisel again, then spit and sputtered through the fragments that flew. â€Å"I don’t know how to be the Messiah.† â€Å"So what, a week ago we didn’t know how to be stonemasons and look at us now. It gets easier once you know what you’re doing.† â€Å"Are you being ironic again?† â€Å"God, I hope not.† It was two months before we actually saw the Greek who had commissioned my father to build the house. He was a short, soft-looking little man, who wore a robe that was as white as any worn by the Levite priests, with a border of interlocking rectangles woven around the hem in gold. He arrived in a pair of chariots, followed on foot by two body slaves and a half-dozen bodyguards who looked like Phoenicians. I say a pair of chariots because he rode with a driver in the lead chariot, but behind them they pulled a second chariot in which stood the ten-foot-tall marble statue of a naked man. The Greek climbed down from his chariot and went directly to my father. Joshua and I were mixing a batch of mortar at the time and we paused to watch. â€Å"Graven image,† Joshua said. â€Å"Saw it,† I said. â€Å"As graven images go, I like Venus over by the gate better.† â€Å"That statue is not Jewish,† Joshua said. â€Å"Definitely not Jewish,† I said. The statue’s manhood, although abundant, was not circumcised. â€Å"Alphaeus,† the Greek said, â€Å"why haven’t you set the floor of the gymnasium yet? I’ve brought this statue to display in the gymnasium, and there’s just a hole in the ground instead of a gymnasium.† â€Å"I told you, this ground is not suitable for building. I can’t build on sand. I’ve had the slaves dig down in the sand until they hit bedrock. Now it has to be back-filled in with stone, then pounded.† â€Å"But I want to place my statue,† the Greek whined. â€Å"It’s come all the way from Athens.† â€Å"Would you rather your house fall down around your precious statue?† â€Å"Don’t talk to me that way, Jew, I am paying you well to build this house.† â€Å"And I am building this house well, which means not on the sand. So store your statue and let me do my work.† â€Å"Well, unload it. You, slaves, help unload my statue.† The Greek was talking to Joshua and me. â€Å"All of you, help unload my statue.† He pointed to the slaves who had been pretending to work since the Greek arrived, but who weren’t sure that it was in their best interest to look like a part of a project about which the master seemed displeased. They all looked up with a surprised â€Å"Who, me?† expression on their faces, which I noticed was the same in any language. The slaves moved to the chariot and began untying the ropes that held the statue in place. The Greek looked to us. â€Å"Are you deaf, slaves? Help them!† He stormed back to his chariot and grabbed a whip out of the driver’s hand. â€Å"Those are not slaves,† my father said. â€Å"Those are my apprentices.† The Greek wheeled on him. â€Å"And I should care about that? Move, boys! Now!† â€Å"No,† Joshua said. I thought the Greek would explode. He raised the whip as if to strike. â€Å"What did you say?† â€Å"He said, no.† I stepped up to Joshua’s side. â€Å"My people believe that graven images, statues, are sinful,† my father said, his voice on the edge of panic. â€Å"The boys are only being true to our God.† â€Å"Well, that is a statue of Apollo, a real god, so they will help unload it, as will you, or I’ll find another mason to build my house.† â€Å"No,† Joshua repeated. â€Å"We will not.† â€Å"Right, you leprous jar of camel snot,† I said. Joshua looked at me, sort of disgusted. â€Å"Jeez, Biff.† â€Å"Too much?† The Greek screeched and started to swing the whip. The last thing I saw as I covered my face was my father diving toward the Greek. I would take a lash for Joshua, but I didn’t want to lose an eye. I braced for the sting that never came. There was a thump, then a twanging sound, and when I uncovered my face, the Greek was lying on his back in the dirt, his white robe covered with dust, his face red with rage. The whip was extended out behind him, and on its tip stood the armored hobnail boot of Gaius Justus Gallicus, the centurion. The Greek rolled in the dirt, ready to vent his ire on whoever had stayed his hand, but when he saw who it was, he went limp and pretended to cough. One of the Greek’s bodyguards started to step forward. Justus pointed a finger at the guard. â€Å"Will you stand down, or would you rather feel the foot of the Roman Empire on your neck?† The guard stepped back into line with his companions. The Roman was grinning like a mule eating an apple, not in the least concerned with allowing the Greek to save face. â€Å"So, Castor, am I to gather that you need to conscript more Roman slaves to help build your house? Or is it true what I hear about you Greeks, that whipping young boys is an entertainment for you, not a disciplinary action?† The Greek spit out a mouthful of dust as he climbed to his feet. â€Å"The slaves I have will be sufficient for the task, won’t they, Alphaeus?† He turned to my father, his eyes pleading. My father seemed to be caught between two evils, and unable to decide which was the lesser of them. â€Å"Probably,† he said, finally. â€Å"Well, good, then,† Justus said. â€Å"I will expect a bonus payment for the extra work they are doing. Carry on.† Justus walked through the construction site, acting as if every eye was not on him, or not caring, and paused as he passed Joshua and me. â€Å"Leprous jar of camel snot?† he said under his breath. â€Å"Old Hebrew blessing?† I ventured. â€Å"You two should be in the hills with the other Hebrew rebels.† The Roman laughed, tousled our hair, then walked away. The sunset was turning the hillsides pink as we walked home to Nazareth that evening. In addition to being almost exhausted from the work, Joshua seemed vexed by the events of the day. â€Å"Did you know that – about not being able to build on sand?† he asked. â€Å"Of course, my father’s been talking about it for a long time. You can build on sand, but what you build will fall down.† Joshua nodded thoughtfully. â€Å"What about soil? Dirt? Is it okay to build on that?† â€Å"Rock is best, but I suppose hard dirt is good.† â€Å"I need to remember that.† We seldom saw Maggie in those days after we began working with my father. I found myself looking forward to the Sabbath, when we would go to the synagogue and I would mill around outside, among the women, while the men were inside listening to the reading of the Torah or the arguments of the Pharisees. It was one of the few times I could talk to Maggie without Joshua around, for though he resented the Pharisees even then, he knew he could learn from them, so he spent the Sabbath listening to their teachings. I still wonder if this time I stole with Maggie somehow represented a disloyalty to Joshua, but later, when I asked him about it, he said, â€Å"God is willing to forgive you the sin that you carry for being a child of man, but you must forgive yourself for having once been a child.† â€Å"I suppose that’s right.† â€Å"Of course it’s right, I’m the Son of God, you dolt. Besides, Maggie always wanted to talk about me anyway, didn’t she?† â€Å"Not always,† I lied. On the Sabbath before the murder, I found Maggie outside the synagogue, sitting by herself under a date palm tree. I shuffled up to her to talk, but kept looking at my feet. I knew that if I looked into her eyes I would forget what I was talking about, so I only looked at her in brief takes, the way a man will glance up at the sun on a sweltering day to confirm the source of the heat. â€Å"Where’s Joshua?† were the first words out of her mouth, of course. â€Å"Studying with the men.† She seemed disappointed for a moment, but then brightened. â€Å"How is your work?† â€Å"Hard, I like playing better.† â€Å"What is Sepphoris like? Is it like Jerusalem?† â€Å"No, it’s smaller. But there are a lot of Romans there.† She’d seen Romans. I needed something to impress her. â€Å"And there are graven images – statues of people.† Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. â€Å"Statues, really? I would love to see them.† â€Å"Then come with us, we are leaving tomorrow very early, before anyone is awake.† â€Å"I couldn’t. Where would I tell my mother I was going?† â€Å"Tell her that you are going to Sepphoris with the Messiah and his pal.† Her eyes went wide and I looked away quickly, before I was caught in their spell. â€Å"You shouldn’t talk that way, Biff.† â€Å"I saw the angel.† â€Å"You said yourself that we shouldn’t say it.† â€Å"I was only joking. Tell your mother that I told you about a beehive that I found and that you want to go find some honey while the bees are still groggy from the morning cold. It’s a full moon tonight, so you’ll be able to see. She just might believe you.† â€Å"She might, but she’ll know I was lying when I don’t bring home any honey.† â€Å"Tell her it was a hornets’ nest. She thinks Josh and I are stupid anyway, doesn’t she?† â€Å"She thinks that Joshua is touched in the head, but you, yes, she thinks you’re stupid.† â€Å"You see, my plan is working. For it is written that ‘if the wise man always appears stupid, his failures do not disappoint, and his success gives pleasant surprise.'† Maggie smacked me on the leg. â€Å"That is not written.† â€Å"Sure it is, Imbeciles three, verse seven.† â€Å"There is no book of Imbeciles.† â€Å"Drudges five-four?† â€Å"You’re making that up.† â€Å"Come with us, you can be back to Nazareth before it’s time to fetch the morning water.† â€Å"Why so early? What are you two up to?† â€Å"We’re going to circumcise Apollo.† She didn’t say anything, she just looked at me, as if she would see â€Å"Liar† written across my forehead in fire. â€Å"It wasn’t my idea,† I said. â€Å"It was Joshua’s.† â€Å"I’ll go then,† she said. How to cite Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 4, Essay examples

Whats Eating Gilbert Grape free essay sample

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape is a film, directed by Lasse Hallstrom it takes place in the monotonous town of Endora, Iowa where there’s not a whole lot to do. Gilbert is a young man who wants nothing more than to leave and pursue something bigger. Gilbert is tied down due to his family who he must help, as they are in quite a struggle as it is. Gilberts brother, Arnie is almost eighteen and suffers from a mental disability. Gilbert must constantly watch Arnie so as to make sure he does not get into any trouble, or cause trouble for anyone else. Arnie’s mother, Bonnie is morbidly obese and has continued to eat her pain away ever since her husband, committed suicide. Gilbert also has two sisters, Amy and Ellen. Amy helps her mother and Arnie as much as she can and is selflessly assisting them in any way she can. Ellen is a fifteen-year-old girl, generally too swept up in her adolescent social life to do next to anything to help out. The film uses a number of film techniques, such as: mise-en-scene, and a variety of long shots and close-ups. Gilberts family and Gilbert himself especially are afflicted with many difficulties in their lives. Gilberts problems are everyone else’s, as they all affect him. When it comes to Gilberts mother, Bonnie the director uses a low-angle shot of her, this emphasises how large she is. Bonnie is also often shown eating unhealthy foods, and in one scene smoking a cigarette, also used to emphasise her lethargic nature. Bonnie’s troubles are not only physical, but mental as well, she eats to escape the pain of her deceased husband, and perhaps Arnie’s condition too. When Bonnie leaves the house for the first time in several years, she is stared and gawked at by the community, one man taking a photo. There is a close up on Bonnies face during this scene, this is done to show the audience that she attempts to remain strong and with dignity, however due to the closeness of the shot you are able to see the small twitches in her face which let you know she is extremely self conscious. During the car ride to and from the town there is a long shot of the car with the right side extremely lopsided, showing how large she is, another technique the director has used is the mise-en-scene, showing the whole family eating dinner at the table, and showing just how large Bonnie is by comparison. Arnie is Gilberts younger brother; he suffers from a mental illness, which is not specified in the film. Arnie constantly needs to be under surveillance. Arnie has a bad habit of climbing the water tower, forcing the police and the fire station to come and get him down. Gilbert cannot watch Arnie 24/7, as he has other affairs to attend to. Arnie is often a burden on the rest of the household, often getting lost, and generally being utterly dependant, against his own free will. Arnie often cannot control what he says, for example at the dinner table he cannot stop repeating â€Å"dad’s dead! † over and over, slowly driving Bonnie to insanity. Bonnie’s death hits Arnie the hardest, where the rest saw it as somewhat of a burden being relieved from them, Arnie was shocked, his mother was all he had besides Gilbert, and with her gone too, Arnie was having tremendous difficulty comprehending the situation. Arnie is quite out going and grows to be quite dirty often, this is illustrated clearly when he is shown for a long period of time with dirt, among other things coated over him. When Arnie climbs the water tower for the second time there is an extremely long shot of him from across the town where he is seen climbing the tower. Gilbert, while being arguably the most normal of the family is also the most burdened. Gilbert is caught in the crossfire of all of his family’s problems, and is the person who they rely on to make things right. Gilbert wishes to leave Endora and move somewhere with opportunities, where he can be somebody. Endora is a desolate, poor excuse for a town of any sort; this is shown by everything having a greyish filter and focusing on images such as paint peeling. Gilbert must look after Arnie and cater to his mothers needs. At one point it is all too much for Gilbert, making him snap and resulting in him striking Arnie in a blind rage. In one scene, Arnie continuously repeats the words â€Å"we’re not going anywhere, we’re not going anywhere† and although it is used in a different context, it is easy to see that Gilbert is thinking about his life and escaping from Endora. Gilbert is having an affair with the wife of an insurance salesman, Betty. This situation puts Gilbert under high stress, especially when Gilbert is asked to meet Mr Carver face to face. Betty then burns the house, resulting in Mr Carters breakdown, causing cardiac arrest and consequential in his death. This on top of what Gilbert already carries upon his shoulders everyday is quite the affliction. What’s Eating Gilbert Grape is the story of one man who wants to escape his monotonous life and make something of himself. With all the struggles surrounding him which he must face he is finally able to put them to rest and move away to something more. Gilbert, while having to have dealt with his mothers obesity, his brothers disability, and his place in his dead end town, is rewarded in the end by meeting Becky, who he falls in love with and ends up leaving Endora with. By the end of the film Gilbert has left his old life and is left with to pursue the life, which he had always wanted.