Two women were injured by <strong>shotgun</strong> pellets after a moped rider dropped a firearm while being chased by police.

Clapham: Moped rider dropped shotgun that fired and injured two people during police chase | UK News | Sky News

Shotgun is a worldwide event marketplace that enables live event Organizers to create amazing events and distribute tickets to evolving communities of users, in France, Brazil, Spain, USA or Mexico

Shotgun

Ukraine's Rapid Push to Deploy AI-Enabled Drones for Battlefield Supremacy

This paper is available on arxiv under CC 4.0 license.
Authors:
(1) D.Sinclair, Imense Ltd, and email: david@imense.com;
(2) W.T.Pye, Warwick University, and email:  willempye@gmail.com. Table of Links Abstract and Introduction
Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt
PCA analysis of the Emotion of Amazon reviews
Future Work
Conclusions
Acknowledgments and References 2. Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt In this work we used Facebook’s open source LlaMa2 7 billion weight LLM as the core engine [2]. It was necessary to use a LLM that allowed access to raw token probabilities after a prompt. The model ran on a Mac Studio with 32 gigabytes of RAM. With this combination of hardware and model it took 2 minutes to compute the probabilities of the emotion descriptors in the emotion dictionary given below. 2.1. The Emotion Dictionary The English language is blessed with many words and an extensive literature providing examples of the usage of these words in appropriate contexts. For the purposes of LLMs, it is the context of a word that conveys it’s meaning. A reader will infer the meaning of an unfamiliar word through the context they find the word used in, provided they understand the context. As an example, ‘The shotgun discombobulated the rabbit.’ shows how meaning can be moderated by context. The context created by a tail prompt will favour an associated class of words. For the experiment detailed in this paper the following tail prompt was used to elicit emotion descriptors, ’Reading this makes me feel’. It is likely that specific emotion eliciting tail prompts will favour specific sub classes of descriptor but studying this is beyond the scope of this paper The following words were chosen to provide a broad sample of emotion descriptors. acceptance, admiration, adoration, affection, afraid, agitation, agony, aggressive, alarm, alarmed, alienation, amazement, ambivalence, amusement, anger, anguish, annoyed anticipating, anxious, apathy, apprehension, arrogant, assertive, astonished, attentiveness, attraction, aversion, awe, baffled, bewildered, bitter, bitter sweetness, bliss, bored, brazen, brooding, calm, carefree, careless, caring, charity, cheeky, cheerfulness, claustrophobic, coercive, comfortable, confident, confusion, contempt, content, courage, cowardly, cruelty, curiosity, cynicism, dazed, dejection, delighted, demoralized, depressed, desire, despair, determined, disappointment, disbelief, discombobulated, discomfort, discontentment, disgruntled, disgust, disheartened, dislike, dismay, disoriented, dispirited, displeasure, distraction, distress, disturbed, dominant, doubt, dread, driven, dumbstruck, eagerness, ecstasy, elation, embarrassment, empathy, enchanted, enjoyment, enlightened, ennui, enthusiasm, envy, epiphany, euphoria, exasperated, excitement, expectancy, fascination, fear, flakey, focused, fondness, friendliness, fright, frustrated, fury, glee, gloomy, glumness, gratitude, greed, grief, grouchiness, grumpiness, guilt, happiness, hate, hatred, helpless, homesickness, hope, hopeless, horrified, hospitable, humiliation, humility, hurt, hysteria, idleness, impatient, indifference, indignant, infatuation, infuriated, insecurity, insightful, insulted, interest, intrigued, irritated, isolated, jealousy, joviality, joy, jubilation, kind, lazy, liking, loathing, lonely, longing, loopy, love, lust, mad, melancholy, miserable, miserliness, mixed up, modesty, moody, mortified, mystified, nasty, nauseated, negative, neglect, nervous, nostalgic, numb, obstinate, offended, optimistic, outrage, overwhelmed, panicked, paranoid, passion, patience, pensiveness, perplexed, persevering, pessimism, pity, pleased, pleasure, politeness, positive, possessive, powerless, pride, puzzled, rage, rash, rattled, regret, rejected, relaxed, relieved, reluctant, remorse, resentment, resignation, restlessness, revulsion, ruthless, sadness, satisfaction, scared, schadenfreude, scorn, self-caring, self-compassionate, self-confident, self-conscious, self-critical, self-loathing, self-motivated, self-pity, self-respecting, self-understanding, sentimentality, serenity, shame, shameless, shocked, smug, sorrow, spite, stressed, strong, stubborn, stuck, submissive, suffering, sullenness, surprise, suspense, suspicious, sympathy, tenderness, tension, terror, thankfulness, thrilled, tired, tolerance, torment, triumphant, troubled, trust, uncertainty, undermined, uneasiness, unhappy, unnerved, unsettled, unsure, upset, vengeful, vicious, vigilance, vulnerable, weak, woe, worried, worthy, wrath. This set of words is not intended to be complete or definitive in any way. Using the tail prompt without restricting the return to emotion descriptors elicits general waffle responses that are not straightforward to extract sentiment form. 2.1.1. Estimating the emotion probability vector LlaMa2 [2] has been released in such a way as to allow developers to access estimated token weights returned in response to a prompt. LlaMa2 has an internal vocabulary size of roughly 30,000 tokens. This means that when LlaMa 2 estimates the probability of the next token in a sequence the probability vector will have 30,000 elements. Some of the words in the emotion descriptor list are made up of more than one token in which case forward conditional probabilities are used. Figure 2.1.1 shows the scaled probability distribution over words from the emotion dictionary elicited by the tail prompt for the Amazon review text, ‘I read a lot of negative reviews about the Fitbit inspire 2, I took a chance and hoped the one I ordered would be one of the great ones that worked. Unfortunately that was not the case. I unpacked it, charged it, downloaded the app. I took a walk with it on before the sun went down. I have the Google Fit app on my phone that tracks my steps also. The phone was in my jeans pocket. When I got home I compared the two, Google Fit said 4,458 steps, Fitbit said 1,168. Apparently Fitbit works with wrist motion which I don’t have while pushing a walker around the neighborhood. I downloaded the manual and noticed you can put it on a clip (that wasn’t included). That would work for me. So I started to scroll through the different features except I couldn’t scroll through all of them. While scrolling I must have turned on the stopwatch. I couldn’t turn it off. Then I couldn’t scroll through anything except water lock feature. I had to turn on the water lock to get back to the stopwatch. Then the side buttons stopped working. I had it a total of 5 hours. I packed it up and started the Amazon return. I did get a full refund. Very disappointing.’ The text from 50 Amazon reviews of a book was borrowed from https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000WM9UK2. The reviews were for the most part favourable. Example review texts include: ‘The Children of H´urin is a great tragedy mixed with grace. The genealogical records at the beginning may be difficult to get through, but the story very quickly gains speed. I only gave the story four stars because of the difficulty of the first few chapters, much like Matthew’s genealogy of Christ at the beginning of his gospel. Although such records are important in both they are nonetheless difficult to get through. I still definitely would recommend this book, though, as it depicts the horrible effects of evil powers on good men and women, and yet, we must continue to resist evil no matter the tragic end. It is very telling that in Tolkien’s world, at the end of days when Morgoth returns, that it is T´urin, a man, who ends him once and for all. Those whom Satan most destroys in this life are they who will ultimately deal his death blow, as the Revelation says, “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their ‘martyria,’ [witness, testimony],” those like T´urin, or in Scripture, those like Job.’ Figure 2.1.2 shows the emotion vectors for all 50 processed reviews. The 10 most probable emotions experienced from purchasing the product were: depressed, kind, nostalgic, tired, hopeless, lonely, hope, calm, lazy, confident. This paper is available on arxiv under CC 4.0 license. Authors: (1) D.Sinclair, Imense Ltd, and email: david@imense.com; (2) W.T.Pye, Warwick University, and email:  willempye@gmail.com. This paper is available on arxiv under CC 4.0 license. Authors: Authors: (1) D.Sinclair, Imense Ltd, and email: david@imense.com; (2) W.T.Pye, Warwick University, and email:  willempye@gmail.com. Table of Links Abstract and Introduction Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt PCA analysis of the Emotion of Amazon reviews Future Work Conclusions Acknowledgments and References Abstract and Introduction Abstract and Introduction Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt PCA analysis of the Emotion of Amazon reviews PCA analysis of the Emotion of Amazon reviews Future Work Future Work Conclusions Conclusions Acknowledgments and References Acknowledgments and References 2. Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt In this work we used Facebook’s open source LlaMa2 7 billion weight LLM as the core engine [2]. It was necessary to use a LLM that allowed access to raw token probabilities after a prompt. The model ran on a Mac Studio with 32 gigabytes of RAM. With this combination of hardware and model it took 2 minutes to compute the probabilities of the emotion descriptors in the emotion dictionary given below. 2.1. The Emotion Dictionary The English language is blessed with many words and an extensive literature providing examples of the usage of these words in appropriate contexts. For the purposes of LLMs, it is the context of a word that conveys it’s meaning. A reader will infer the meaning of an unfamiliar word through the context they find the word used in, provided they understand the context. As an example, ‘The shotgun discombobulated the rabbit.’ shows how meaning can be moderated by context. The context created by a tail prompt will favour an associated class of words. For the experiment detailed in this paper the following tail prompt was used to elicit emotion descriptors, ’Reading this makes me feel’. It is likely that specific emotion eliciting tail prompts will favour specific sub classes of descriptor but studying this is beyond the scope of this paper The following words were chosen to provide a broad sample of emotion descriptors. acceptance, admiration, adoration, affection, afraid, agitation, agony, aggressive, alarm, alarmed, alienation, amazement, ambivalence, amusement, anger, anguish, annoyed anticipating, anxious, apathy, apprehension, arrogant, assertive, astonished, attentiveness, attraction, aversion, awe, baffled, bewildered, bitter, bitter sweetness, bliss, bored, brazen, brooding, calm, carefree, careless, caring, charity, cheeky, cheerfulness, claustrophobic, coercive, comfortable, confident, confusion, contempt, content, courage, cowardly, cruelty, curiosity, cynicism, dazed, dejection, delighted, demoralized, depressed, desire, despair, determined, disappointment, disbelief, discombobulated, discomfort, discontentment, disgruntled, disgust, disheartened, dislike, dismay, disoriented, dispirited, displeasure, distraction, distress, disturbed, dominant, doubt, dread, driven, dumbstruck, eagerness, ecstasy, elation, embarrassment, empathy, enchanted, enjoyment, enlightened, ennui, enthusiasm, envy, epiphany, euphoria, exasperated, excitement, expectancy, fascination, fear, flakey, focused, fondness, friendliness, fright, frustrated, fury, glee, gloomy, glumness, gratitude, greed, grief, grouchiness, grumpiness, guilt, happiness, hate, hatred, helpless, homesickness, hope, hopeless, horrified, hospitable, humiliation, humility, hurt, hysteria, idleness, impatient, indifference, indignant, infatuation, infuriated, insecurity, insightful, insulted, interest, intrigued, irritated, isolated, jealousy, joviality, joy, jubilation, kind, lazy, liking, loathing, lonely, longing, loopy, love, lust, mad, melancholy, miserable, miserliness, mixed up, modesty, moody, mortified, mystified, nasty, nauseated, negative, neglect, nervous, nostalgic, numb, obstinate, offended, optimistic, outrage, overwhelmed, panicked, paranoid, passion, patience, pensiveness, perplexed, persevering, pessimism, pity, pleased, pleasure, politeness, positive, possessive, powerless, pride, puzzled, rage, rash, rattled, regret, rejected, relaxed, relieved, reluctant, remorse, resentment, resignation, restlessness, revulsion, ruthless, sadness, satisfaction, scared, schadenfreude, scorn, self-caring, self-compassionate, self-confident, self-conscious, self-critical, self-loathing, self-motivated, self-pity, self-respecting, self-understanding, sentimentality, serenity, shame, shameless, shocked, smug, sorrow, spite, stressed, strong, stubborn, stuck, submissive, suffering, sullenness, surprise, suspense, suspicious, sympathy, tenderness, tension, terror, thankfulness, thrilled, tired, tolerance, torment, triumphant, troubled, trust, uncertainty, undermined, uneasiness, unhappy, unnerved, unsettled, unsure, upset, vengeful, vicious, vigilance, vulnerable, weak, woe, worried, worthy, wrath. This set of words is not intended to be complete or definitive in any way. Using the tail prompt without restricting the return to emotion descriptors elicits general waffle responses that are not straightforward to extract sentiment form. 2.1.1. Estimating the emotion probability vector LlaMa2 [2] has been released in such a way as to allow developers to access estimated token weights returned in response to a prompt. LlaMa2 has an internal vocabulary size of roughly 30,000 tokens. This means that when LlaMa 2 estimates the probability of the next token in a sequence the probability vector will have 30,000 elements. Some of the words in the emotion descriptor list are made up of more than one token in which case forward conditional probabilities are used. Figure 2.1.1 shows the scaled probability distribution over words from the emotion dictionary elicited by the tail prompt for the Amazon review text, ‘I read a lot of negative reviews about the Fitbit inspire 2, I took a chance and hoped the one I ordered would be one of the great ones that worked. Unfortunately that was not the case. I unpacked it, charged it, downloaded the app. I took a walk with it on before the sun went down. I have the Google Fit app on my phone that tracks my steps also. The phone was in my jeans pocket. When I got home I compared the two, Google Fit said 4,458 steps, Fitbit said 1,168. Apparently Fitbit works with wrist motion which I don’t have while pushing a walker around the neighborhood. I downloaded the manual and noticed you can put it on a clip (that wasn’t included). That would work for me. So I started to scroll through the different features except I couldn’t scroll through all of them. While scrolling I must have turned on the stopwatch. I couldn’t turn it off. Then I couldn’t scroll through anything except water lock feature. I had to turn on the water lock to get back to the stopwatch. Then the side buttons stopped working. I had it a total of 5 hours. I packed it up and started the Amazon return. I did get a full refund. Very disappointing.’ ‘I read a lot of negative reviews about the Fitbit inspire 2, I took a chance and hoped the one I ordered would be one of the great ones that worked. Unfortunately that was not the case. I unpacked it, charged it, downloaded the app. I took a walk with it on before the sun went down. I have the Google Fit app on my phone that tracks my steps also. The phone was in my jeans pocket. When I got home I compared the two, Google Fit said 4,458 steps, Fitbit said 1,168. Apparently Fitbit works with wrist motion which I don’t have while pushing a walker around the neighborhood. I downloaded the manual and noticed you can put it on a clip (that wasn’t included). That would work for me. So I started to scroll through the different features except I couldn’t scroll through all of them. While scrolling I must have turned on the stopwatch. I couldn’t turn it off. Then I couldn’t scroll through anything except water lock feature. I had to turn on the water lock to get back to the stopwatch. Then the side buttons stopped working. I had it a total of 5 hours. I packed it up and started the Amazon return. I did get a full refund. Very disappointing.’ The text from 50 Amazon reviews of a book was borrowed from https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000WM9UK2. The reviews were for the most part favourable. Example review texts include: ‘The Children of H´urin is a great tragedy mixed with grace. The genealogical records at the beginning may be difficult to get through, but the story very quickly gains speed. I only gave the story four stars because of the difficulty of the first few chapters, much like Matthew’s genealogy of Christ at the beginning of his gospel. Although such records are important in both they are nonetheless difficult to get through. I still definitely would recommend this book, though, as it depicts the horrible effects of evil powers on good men and women, and yet, we must continue to resist evil no matter the tragic end. It is very telling that in Tolkien’s world, at the end of days when Morgoth returns, that it is T´urin, a man, who ends him once and for all. Those whom Satan most destroys in this life are they who will ultimately deal his death blow, as the Revelation says, “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their ‘martyria,’ [witness, testimony],” those like T´urin, or in Scripture, those like Job.’ ‘The Children of H´urin is a great tragedy mixed with grace. The genealogical records at the beginning may be difficult to get through, but the story very quickly gains speed. I only gave the story four stars because of the difficulty of the first few chapters, much like Matthew’s genealogy of Christ at the beginning of his gospel. Although such records are important in both they are nonetheless difficult to get through. I still definitely would recommend this book, though, as it depicts the horrible effects of evil powers on good men and women, and yet, we must continue to resist evil no matter the tragic end. It is very telling that in Tolkien’s world, at the end of days when Morgoth returns, that it is T´urin, a man, who ends him once and for all. Those whom Satan most destroys in this life are they who will ultimately deal his death blow, as the Revelation says, “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their ‘martyria,’ [witness, testimony],” those like T´urin, or in Scripture, those like Job.’ Figure 2.1.2 shows the emotion vectors for all 50 processed reviews. The 10 most probable emotions experienced from purchasing the product were: depressed, kind, nostalgic, tired, hopeless, lonely, hope, calm, lazy, confident.

Estimate Emotion Probability Vectors: Interrogating the LLM with an Emotion Eliciting Tail Prompt

আবেগ সম্ভাবনা ভেক্টর অনুমান করুন: একটি আবেগ এলিসিটিং টেইল প্রম্পটের সাথে এলএলএমকে জিজ্ঞাসাবাদ করা

Schätzen Sie Wahrscheinlichkeitsvektoren für Emotionen: Abfragen des LLM mit einem Emotionen hervorrufenden Tail Prompt

Estimar vectores de probabilidad de emociones: interrogar al LLM con un mensaje de cola que provoca emociones

Estimer les vecteurs de probabilité d'émotion : interroger le LLM avec une invite de queue suscitant des émotions

भावना संभाव्यता सदिशों का अनुमान लगाना: भावना उद्घाटित करने वाले टेल प्रॉम्प्ट के साथ LLM से पूछताछ करना

感情確率ベクトルの推定: 感情を喚起するテールプロンプトによる LLM の調査

감정 확률 벡터 추정: 감정 유도 꼬리 프롬프트로 LLM 조사

Estimar vetores de probabilidade de emoção: interrogando o LLM com um prompt de cauda que provoca emoção

Оценка векторов вероятности эмоций: опрос LLM с помощью хвостовой подсказки, вызывающей эмоции

Duygu Olasılığı Vektörlerini Tahmin Edin: Yüksek Lisans'ı Duygu Ortaya Çıkaran Kuyruk İstemi ile Sorgulamak

Ước tính các vectơ xác suất cảm xúc: Thẩm vấn LLM bằng lời nhắc gợi ý cảm xúc

估计情绪概率向量：用引发情绪的尾部提示询问法学硕士

Oh, let me tell you about PR agencies and the sour taste they're leaving in the mouths of journalists everywhere. It's become an infuriating trend in the world, where PR agencies have seemingly forgotten the basic principles of effective communication and instead resort to spamming journalists with irrelevant and self-serving content. media It's a plague that's eroding the trust and professionalism that should exist between public relations professionals and the media. First of all, the sheer audacity of these PR agencies to send out their pitches to massive mailing lists is mind-boggling. It's as if they believe that a shotgun approach is the most effective way to get their clients' messages across. PR Agencies Bombard Inboxes They bombard inboxes with generic emails that could have been sent to anyone without a shred of personalization. They've forgotten that journalism is about building relationships, about understanding the needs and preferences of the journalists they're reaching out to. But that's just the beginning of the problem. PR agencies rarely bother to engage in meaningful conversations with journalists. Instead, they treat journalists like passive recipients of their pitches. It's as if they don't recognize that these are professionals who have specific needs, interests, and deadlines. A personal touch, a well-crafted pitch that takes into account the journalist's beat and style would go a long way, but no, that's just too much effort for these PR agencies. Even more frustrating is their complete disregard for the submission guidelines and "contact us" pages of websites. It's as if they believe that rules and guidelines don't apply to them. They clog up the inboxes of journalists who have clearly stated their preferences for communication, and it's incredibly disrespectful. It's like showing up uninvited to a party and refusing to leave. But the icing on the cake is the sheer lack of newsworthy content in their pitches. Instead of sending interesting and relevant stories, they flood our inboxes with nothing but promotional materials for their clients. Blatant PR Agency Spam Ugh, don't even get me started on PR agencies that spam! It's like they've never heard of the word "relevance" or "respect." These companies think they can inundate our inboxes, our social media, and even our phone calls with their mindless, robotic messages as if that's the key to successful public relations. But let me tell you, it's the fastest way to earn the wrath of the very people they're trying to reach. It's also beyond annoying. I mean, do they really think I have all the time in the world to sift through their generic, one-size-fits-all pitches? Newsflash: I don't! I have a life, a job, and other important emails to attend to. Spamming is the lazy marketer's way out, and it shows a complete lack of respect for my time and attention. And the worst part is that these PR agencies often don't even bother to personalize their messages. It's like they copy and paste the same tired pitch to everyone in their database. What's more, it's a blatant violation of privacy. I never signed up for this, and I certainly didn't give these agencies permission to fill my inbox with their irrelevant junk. It's invasive and disrespectful, and it only serves to erode trust in the PR industry as a whole. But perhaps the most infuriating thing about these spammers is that they make the real professionals in the PR world look bad. Legitimate PR practitioners work hard to build meaningful relationships, craft targeted pitches, and respect the boundaries of the people they're trying to reach. But when these spam-happy agencies flood the landscape, they tarnish the reputation of the entire profession. In the end, these PR agencies that spam are just shooting themselves in the foot. They're sabotaging their own efforts by alienating the very people they're trying to engage. Where Is The Cool News? It's as if they've forgotten the fundamental purpose of journalism: to inform and engage the public with real news. Instead, they treat us as if we're an extension of their clients' marketing departments, and it's infuriating. It's not just about receiving pitches that are irrelevant and self-serving; it's about the erosion of trust and respect in the relationship between PR professionals and journalists. The media plays a crucial role in disseminating information, shaping public opinion, and holding institutions accountable. It's a responsibility that journalists take seriously, and it's disheartening to see PR agencies undermine this noble mission by inundating us with junk or promotional content about a new product or service. Journalists want news. Not advertising in disguise. The sad part is that this approach is not only ineffective, but it's also counterproductive for their clients. Journalists are more likely to ignore pitches from PR agencies that don't respect their time, preferences, and professional standards. In the end, the clients are the ones who suffer, as their messages are lost in the flood of uninspired and truly boring PR articles. The Audacity Of Many PR Agencies Let's also talk about the audacity of many PR agencies and their shameless attempts to exploit the hard work of website owners and content creators. We need to address this issue and make it clear that their practices have no place in the world of responsible and fair media. The Self-Serving & Entitled PR Agents.  - No Cash Here! PR agencies seem to have this warped sense of entitlement as if they can waltz into the virtual storefronts of our websites and hang their promotional PR client content in our windows without any financial consideration. It's as if they believe we exist solely to provide them with free advertising for their clients and their own income. Well, that's not how it works, and it’s time someone called these freeloaders out. Website owners have invested countless hours, resources, and, yes, thousands of dollars in building and maintaining their online platforms. Our websites are the result of passion, dedication, and a commitment to delivering valuable content to readers. We've painstakingly crafted our platforms to provide informative, engaging, and entertaining content. They're our creative spaces, and we've worked hard to cultivate an audience. So, who do these PR agencies think they are? Why should they expect us to provide them with no-cost promotional PR placements for their clients (free advertising space?) Just because they represent clients with promotional materials doesn't mean they get a free pass to our platforms. We're not in the business of giving away our hard-earned space and audience for the benefit of their clients' pocketbooks. If they want to leverage our websites for their own gain, they should be ready to pay for the privilege. It's a simple principle that applies universally in business – you want something, you pay for it, especially if that something contains promotional material. It's not only a matter of basic respect for content creators and website owners but also an acknowledgment of the value we bring to the digital landscape. We are an essential part of the online ecosystem, providing information, entertainment, and unique perspectives to our audiences. Our platforms are not billboards for to exploit at their convenience. PR agencies The time is now for PR agencies to rethink their approach. They need to recognize that website owners and content creators are not here to be exploited for their financial gain. If they want to use our platforms for their promotional purposes and line their own pockets, they should be prepared to compensate us fairly for the privilege. It's not just a matter of money; it's a matter of principle and respect for the hard work and dedication that goes into building and maintaining a successful website. They need to recognize the value of building relationships with journalists, personalizing their pitches, respecting submission guidelines, and offering genuinely newsworthy content. It's not just about getting coverage; it's about being a respectful and valuable part of the media ecosystem. Until they do, journalists will continue to have a bad taste in their mouths, and the media landscape will suffer as a result.

PR Agencies And The Sour Taste They're Leaving In The Mouths Of Journalists Everywhere

The American Connection.

Github Motion to dismiss Court Filing, retrieved on January 26, 2023 is part of . You can jump to any part in this filing . This part is 11 of 26. HackerNoon’s Legal PDF Series here ARGUMENT II. PLAINTIFFS FAIL TO STATE A DMCA CLAIM. B. Count I Impermissibly Lumps Together Multiple Defendants, Claims, And Theories Of Liability. Plaintiffs cannot get around Stevens, but in any event the “failure to allege what role each Defendant played in the alleged harm makes it exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, for individual Defendants to respond to [the] allegations.” In re iPhone Application Litig., No. 11- MD-02250, 2011 WL 4403963, at *8 (N.D. Cal. Sept. 20, 2011). Such a pleading therefore does not satisfy Rule 8(a). Id.; see Destfino v. Reiswig, 630 F.3d 952, 958-59 (9th Cir. 2011) (affirming dismissal of “shotgun pleading”). Count I is a textbook example of this problem. It is alleged against “All Defendants.” Over the course of a nearly 30-paragraph thicket of assertions, Plaintiffs appear to claim violation of all five of the statute’s prohibitions. Compl. ¶¶ 142-71. They also purport, by parenthetical under the title of “COUNT I,” to advance “(Direct, Vicarious, and Contributory)” theories of liability. Id. at 34. No allegation is specific to either GitHub or Microsoft. Nothing elsewhere in the Complaint explains what any particular Defendant is supposed to have done. This defect is worst with respect to Microsoft. Plaintiffs allege that Microsoft owns GitHub and is an investor in OpenAI. Compl. ¶¶ 5-7. But it is basic corporate law that absent some disregard of corporate formalities, Microsoft cannot be held liable as a corporate parent or shareholder. See United States v. Bestfoods, 524 U.S. 51, 61 (1998). As for Microsoft’s subsidiary GitHub, there is no explanation of what GitHub supposedly did with respect to the alteration or removal of CMI. And since there is no allegation suggesting that GitHub or Microsoft engaged in primary conduct involving CMI, Plaintiffs presumably mean to sweep them in with the “vicarious” and “contributory” labels. But § 1202 does not provide for such theories of liability on its face, and it is doubtful that the Ninth Circuit would find § 1202’s doublescienter requirement compatible with theories of secondary liability. Cf. Petroliam Nasional Berhad v. GoDaddy.com, Inc., 737 F.3d 546 (9th Cir. 2013) (refusing extra-statutory contributory liability theory under anti-cybersquatting statute in part because of “bad faith” requirement). Plaintiffs are claiming entitlement to statutory damages of over $9 billion for their § 1202 claims. Compl. at 52 n.42. Defendants cannot properly address these claims without knowing what Plaintiffs say each Defendant did to violate the statute. Continue Reading . Here About HackerNoon Legal PDF Series: We bring you the most important technical and insightful public domain court case filings. This court case 4:22-cv-06823-JST retrieved on September 11, 2023, from is part of the public domain. The court-created documents are works of the federal government, and under copyright law, are automatically placed in the public domain and may be shared without legal restriction. documentcloud.org

Programmers Filed a "Catch-All" Lawsuit, Making no Specific Allegations Against GitHub or Microsoft

Previous Chapter - The Last 3 Days (18): Confrontation in the Darkness All published chapters can be found here. 18:49:55 On the muted TV in the Burns’ living room, the KQTS anchor had never been more animated in front of a camera, laughing as he responded to call after call. Anne, Olga, and Eileen drank wine as they sat on the sofa and talked, about Friday night’s dessert on the coffee table. Eileen’s earlier reticence had dissolved sometime during the last bottle of pinot noir. “You delivered Becky in your bathtub? Alone? Respect.” “Where was your husband?” Anne asked. Olga tossed back her wine and held her glass out for more. “Gone,” she said. “Was better anyway.” 15:07:10 Having assembled a makeshift mattress from a soft-sided suitcase and an olive drab knapsack with a convenient bedroll attached to use as a headrest, Nick took advantage of the darkness within the Greyhound’s cargo hold to sleep. He slept through the bus slowing and stopping, but not the abrupt flood of light as the cargo hatch opened. As slowly as he dared to, Nick pulled his legs up into a fetal position to avoid being noticed. The bus driver slid a pair of boxes into the open hold and closed the hatch. 14:30:00 Ryan was already talking before Don was through the door. “I need to pee.” “Wrong answer,” Don replied and spun on his heel. “Wait!” Ryan screamed, hoping his voice would carry through the fractional gap in the closing door. “Wait. I’ll show you where we dumped Nick in exchange for my freedom. On one condition — “ Don’s face appeared in the doorway. “What’s that?” “I tell you on the front steps.” 14:21:47 It was the final dusk of his life and Bobby had decided he would give Ryan until he had finished the six-pack whose cans now littered the glassed vestibule of the office building opposite the precinct station. And he was close to finishing that last beer when he saw Ryan follow Don out of the Precinct’s front entrance. He started to get up but noticed the handcuffs on his friend’s wrists, so he stayed seated in the vestibule of a building opposite the station. He wasn’t about to risk being cuffed himself, not even for Ryan. Draining the can, he watched as the cop turned to Ryan and unfolded a map. Ryan looked at it but otherwise didn’t move. The cop grabbed Ryan’s elbow and made to take him back inside when Ryan said something that stopped the cop in his tracks. Bobby felt real fear then — fear he’d see his friend die right then, right there. Instead of drawing his weapon, the cop raised the map again, but this time unfolded another panel. Ryan pointed to a spot that earned him another menacing look. The cop dangled his key to the hand-cuffs for Ryan to see then tossed them over his shoulder and walked back inside. Ryan raced down the steps and disappeared around the corner. Confused, Bobby followed, collecting the key on his way. He found Ryan facing the wall. “Oh,” he said. “That’s why you — “ “Bobby! Bring up the van.” “It ran out of gas. But — “ Ryan pulled up his fly and turned to him. “So what are we driving?” Bobby pointed at a pair of bicycles leaning against the wall near the vestibule where he kept watch. “Bicycles?” Bobby held out a folded sheet of printer paper. “Yeah. But I know where they are.” 13:56:43 Bonfires answered the receding sunlight as dusk embraced the giant crowd occupying the expansive manicured lawns of Veteran’s Park. All listened to the pastor’s voice amplified through speakers liberated from untended electronics stores, their boxes used to fuel the fires, and repeated his prayers. 13:14:43 Don had spread the map on his desk, ignoring the second hand smoke from the Sergeant’s and Peter Thurro’s cigarettes as they studied it with him. The Lobby was finally empty. “Tough decision, my friend,” the Sergeant advised. “What’s likely to be a wild goose chase or go home to Anne and Jack. Either way, you should go.” Don sighed and sat back. “You’re right. Nick could be anywhere now. I have to trust he’ll find his way home. But how do I break it to Anne?” He stood and folded the map. The Sergeant also got to his feet, his arm extended. “It’s been a privilege.” “We should all go home. Last night and all.” “No one to go home to,” the Sergeant said. Peter shrugged. “Same here.” “Well, there’s room for both of you at my place.” 13:08:54 Comfortable now with the repetitive choreography of each stop, Nick slid between some boxes whose destination labels were beyond his home. It was fully dark now, the hold lit by a few small lights which was fortunate, because there were far fewer items to hide behind. The hatch opened and Nick froze, even holding his breath on the off chance when he exhaled it might mist as the night cooled off. The Driver’s arm reached in, detached something from the ceiling of the hold and withdrew. Nick relaxed — then felt his ankle hooked by cold metal. Dragged from his hiding place, he landed awkwardly on the gravel shoulder. Pinned in place by the hook at his throat, all he could do was lie there while the Driver shut the hatch. “No ticket, no ride.” Tossing the luggage hook aside, the Driver re-boarded his bus and it pulled away. Nick climbed to his feet, watched the lights of the bus recede and then looked around. Not a light to be seen. Though paved, the road was barely two lanes, silent forest lining both sides into the night. He headed after the bus. 12:56:27 Ryan and Bobby hid behind some bushes across from the Taylor house. Bobby had been right — his Escalade was parked in the drive. “Let’s go,” Ryan said. “Wait, there’s a car coming.” A sedan slowed as it closed on the two friends, and pulled into the adjacent driveway behind the Escalade. They could hear but not see the car’s male occupants enter the home. “Come on. Leave the bikes.” “Leave the — they’re worth three grand apiece.” But Ryan was already across the street. Bobby darted into the shadow of the SUV, keeping low and trying to watch every direction at once. Ryan padded up to the front door and twisted the handle. A moment later, Ryan was through and the door was ajar, leaving Bobby with no choice but to follow. 12:55:32 The flight of North Korean missiles had exhausted their fuel long ago and their drab green paint made them invisible, unless viewed from Benevolence B7438 and even then they appeared like a loose group of shotgun pellet silhouetted against the much closer Earth. A good number of the missiles flew wide of the mark, but several impacted and a few of these detonated. Benevolence B7438 shrugged them off. 12:51:44 Bobby considered the uneaten food on the table. “They were here.” He tasted some cold scrambled egg, but spit it out, then harvested all the remaining bacon. “A while ago. Looks like they just up and left.” Noticing the decanters on the side board, Ryan selected one at random, chose a heavy tumbler and carried them to the coffee table. “They can’t be far. We’ll wait.” The Escalade key fob was on the coffee table. Ryan pocketed it and settled back to enjoy his drink. Bobby scraped the eggs onto one plate and thrust it into the microwave. 10:48:12 At least the night was clear, lit by a waxing moon that made it easy for Nick to keep walking along the median tire groove of oncoming traffic. There were far fewer pebbles and such there for his bare feet to step on and he wouldn’t be caught out by approaching traffic as he studied the stars. He had never seen so many, but couldn’t ever remember caring one way or another. Then he caught a familiar shape in his peripheral vision and stopped in his tracks to be sure he hadn’t imagined it. The shape remained when he looked directly at it. It was an abandoned car parked on the side of the road. Sure, it predated fuel injection and powered windows, but that just meant there was less to go wrong. Nor would he have to hotwire it. The key was in the ignition. The dash lit up but the engine didn’t turn over. A moment later, he had the hood up. Also published here.

The Last 3 Days (19): Benevolence Shrugs

The Mysterious Stranger, and Other Stories by Mark Twain, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . The McWilliamses and the Burglar Alarm here The McWilliamses and the Burglar Alarm The conversation drifted smoothly and pleasantly along from weather to crops, from crops to literature, from literature to scandal, from scandal to religion; then took a random jump, and landed on the subject of burglar alarms. And now for the first time Mr. McWilliams showed feeling. Whenever I perceive this sign on this man's dial, I comprehend it, and lapse into silence, and give him opportunity to unload his heart. Said he, with but ill-controlled emotion: “I do not go one single cent on burglar alarms, Mr. Twain—not a single cent—and I will tell you why. When we were finishing our house, we found we had a little cash left over, on account of the plumber not knowing it. I was for enlightening the heathen with it, for I was always unaccountably down on the heathen somehow; but Mrs. McWilliams said no, let's have a burglar alarm. I agreed to this compromise. I will explain that whenever I want a thing, and Mrs. McWilliams wants another thing, and we decide upon the thing that Mrs. McWilliams wants—as we always do—she calls that a compromise. Very well: the man came up from New York and put in the alarm, and charged three hundred and twenty-five dollars for it, and said we could sleep without uneasiness now. So we did for awhile—say a month. Then one night we smelled smoke, and I was advised to get up and see what the matter was. I lit a candle, and started toward the stairs, and met a burglar coming out of a room with a basket of tinware, which he had mistaken for solid silver in the dark. He was smoking a pipe. I said, 'My friend, we do not allow smoking in this room.' He said he was a stranger, and could not be expected to know the rules of the house: said he had been in many houses just as good as this one, and it had never been objected to before. He added that as far as his experience went, such rules had never been considered to apply to burglars, anyway. “I said: 'Smoke along, then, if it is the custom, though I think that the conceding of a privilege to a burglar which is denied to a bishop is a conspicuous sign of the looseness of the times. But waiving all that, what business have you to be entering this house in this furtive and clandestine way, without ringing the burglar alarm?' “He looked confused and ashamed, and said, with embarrassment: 'I beg a thousand pardons. I did not know you had a burglar alarm, else I would have rung it. I beg you will not mention it where my parents may hear of it, for they are old and feeble, and such a seemingly wanton breach of the hallowed conventionalities of our Christian civilization might all too rudely sunder the frail bridge which hangs darkling between the pale and evanescent present and the solemn great deeps of the eternities. May I trouble you for a match?' “I said: 'Your sentiments do you honor, but if you will allow me to say it, metaphor is not your best hold. Spare your thigh; this kind light only on the box, and seldom there, in fact, if my experience may be trusted. But to return to business: how did you get in here?' “'Through a second-story window.' “It was even so. I redeemed the tinware at pawnbroker's rates, less cost of advertising, bade the burglar good-night, closed the window after him, and retired to headquarters to report. Next morning we sent for the burglar-alarm man, and he came up and explained that the reason the alarm did not 'go off' was that no part of the house but the first floor was attached to the alarm. This was simply idiotic; one might as well have no armor on at all in battle as to have it only on his legs. The expert now put the whole second story on the alarm, charged three hundred dollars for it, and went his way. By and by, one night, I found a burglar in the third story, about to start down a ladder with a lot of miscellaneous property. My first impulse was to crack his head with a billiard cue; but my second was to refrain from this attention, because he was between me and the cue rack. The second impulse was plainly the soundest, so I refrained, and proceeded to compromise. I redeemed the property at former rates, after deducting ten per cent. for use of ladder, it being my ladder, and, next day we sent down for the expert once more, and had the third story attached to the alarm, for three hundred dollars. “By this time the 'annunciator' had grown to formidable dimensions. It had forty-seven tags on it, marked with the names of the various rooms and chimneys, and it occupied the space of an ordinary wardrobe. The gong was the size of a wash-bowl, and was placed above the head of our bed. There was a wire from the house to the coachman's quarters in the stable, and a noble gong alongside his pillow. “We should have been comfortable now but for one defect. Every morning at five the cook opened the kitchen door, in the way of business, and rip went that gong! The first time this happened I thought the last day was come sure. I didn't think it in bed—no, but out of it—for the first effect of that frightful gong is to hurl you across the house, and slam you against the wall, and then curl you up, and squirm you like a spider on a stove lid, till somebody shuts the kitchen door. In solid fact, there is no clamor that is even remotely comparable to the dire clamor which that gong makes. Well, this catastrophe happened every morning regularly at five o'clock, and lost us three hours sleep; for, mind you, when that thing wakes you, it doesn't merely wake you in spots; it wakes you all over, conscience and all, and you are good for eighteen hours of wide-awakeness subsequently—eighteen hours of the very most inconceivable wide-awakeness that you ever experienced in your life. A stranger died on our hands one time, and we vacated and left him in our room overnight. Did that stranger wait for the general judgment? No, sir; he got up at five the next morning in the most prompt and unostentatious way. I knew he would; I knew it mighty well. He collected his life-insurance, and lived happy ever after, for there was plenty of proof as to the perfect squareness of his death. “Well, we were gradually fading toward a better land, on account of the daily loss of sleep; so we finally had the expert up again, and he ran a wire to the outside of the door, and placed a switch there, whereby Thomas, the butler, always made one little mistake—he switched the alarm off at night when he went to bed, and switched it on again at daybreak in the morning, just in time for the cook to open the kitchen door, and enable that gong to slam us across the house, sometimes breaking a window with one or the other of us. At the end of a week we recognized that this switch business was a delusion and a snare. We also discovered that a band of burglars had been lodging in the house the whole time—not exactly to steal, for there wasn't much left now, but to hide from the police, for they were hot pressed, and they shrewdly judged that the detectives would never think of a tribe of burglars taking sanctuary in a house notoriously protected by the most imposing and elaborate burglar alarm in America. “Sent down for the expert again, and this time he struck a most dazzling idea—he fixed the thing so that opening the kitchen door would take off the alarm. It was a noble idea, and he charged accordingly. But you already foresee the result. I switched on the alarm every night at bed-time, no longer trusting on Thomas's frail memory; and as soon as the lights were out the burglars walked in at the kitchen door, thus taking the alarm off without waiting for the cook to do it in the morning. You see how aggravatingly we were situated. For months we couldn't have any company. Not a spare bed in the house; all occupied by burglars. “Finally, I got up a cure of my own. The expert answered the call, and ran another ground wire to the stable, and established a switch there, so that the coachman could put on and take off the alarm. That worked first rate, and a season of peace ensued, during which we got to inviting company once more and enjoying life. “But by and by the irrepressible alarm invented a new kink. One winter's night we were flung out of bed by the sudden music of that awful gong, and when we hobbled to the annunciator, turned up the gas, and saw the word 'Nursery' exposed, Mrs. McWilliams fainted dead away, and I came precious near doing the same thing myself. I seized my shotgun, and stood timing the coachman whilst that appalling buzzing went on. I knew that his gong had flung him out, too, and that he would be along with his gun as soon as he could jump into his clothes. When I judged that the time was ripe, I crept to the room next the nursery, glanced through the window, and saw the dim outline of the coachman in the yard below, standing at present-arms and waiting for a chance. Then I hopped into the nursery and fired, and in the same instant the coachman fired at the red flash of my gun. Both of us were successful; I crippled a nurse, and he shot off all my back hair. We turned up the gas, and telephoned for a surgeon. There was not a sign of a burglar, and no window had been raised. One glass was absent, but that was where the coachman's charge had come through. Here was a fine mystery—a burglar alarm 'going off' at midnight of its own accord, and not a burglar in the neighborhood! “The expert answered the usual call, and explained that it was a 'False alarm.' Said it was easily fixed. So he overhauled the nursery window, charged a remunerative figure for it, and departed. “What we suffered from false alarms for the next three years no stylographic pen can describe. During the next three months I always flew with my gun to the room indicated, and the coachman always sallied forth with his battery to support me. But there was never anything to shoot at—windows all tight and secure. We always sent down for the expert next day, and he fixed those particular windows so they would keep quiet a week or so, and always remembered to send us a bill about like this: Wire $2.15 Nipple .75 Two hours’ labor 1.50 Wax .47 Tape .34 Screws .15 Recharging battery .98 Three hours’ labor 2.25 String .02 Lard .66 Pond's Extract 1.25 Springs at 50 2.00 Railroad fares 7.25 ——— 19.77 “At length a perfectly natural thing came about—after we had answered three or four hundred false alarms—to wit, we stopped answering them. Yes, I simply rose up calmly, when slammed across the house by the alarm, calmly inspected the annunciator, took note of the room indicated; and then calmly disconnected that room from the alarm, and went back to bed as if nothing had happened. Moreover, I left that room off permanently, and did not send for the expert. Well, it goes without saying that in the course of time all the rooms were taken off, and the entire machine was out of service. “It was at this unprotected time that the heaviest calamity of all happened. The burglars walked in one night and carried off the burglar alarm! yes, sir, every hide and hair of it: ripped it out, tooth and nail; springs, bells, gongs, battery, and all; they took a hundred and fifty miles of copper wire; they just cleaned her out, bag and baggage, and never left us a vestige of her to swear at—swear by, I mean. “We had a time of it to get her back; but we accomplished it finally, for money. The alarm firm said that what we needed now was to have her put in right—with their new patent springs in the windows to make false alarms impossible, and their new patent clock attached to take off and put on the alarm morning and night without human assistance. That seemed a good scheme. They promised to have the whole thing finished in ten days. They began work, and we left for the summer. They worked a couple of days; then they left for the summer. After which the burglars moved in, and began their summer vacation. When we returned in the fall, the house was as empty as a beer closet in premises where painters have been at work. We refurnished, and then sent down to hurry up the expert. He came up and finished the job, and said: 'Now this clock is set to put on the alarm every night at 10, and take it off every morning at 5:45. All you've got to do is to wind her up every week, and then leave her alone—she will take care of the alarm herself.' “After that we had a most tranquil season during three months. The bill was prodigious, of course, and I had said I would not pay it until the new machinery had proved itself to be flawless. The time stipulated was three months. So I paid the bill, and the very next day the alarm went to buzzing like ten thousand bee swarms at ten o'clock in the morning. I turned the hands around twelve hours, according to instructions, and this took off the alarm; but there was another hitch at night, and I had to set her ahead twelve hours once more to get her to put the alarm on again. That sort of nonsense went on a week or two, then the expert came up and put in a new clock. He came up every three months during the next three years, and put in a new clock. But it was always a failure. His clocks all had the same perverse defect: they would put the alarm on in the daytime, and they would not put it on at night; and if you forced it on yourself, they would take it off again the minute your back was turned. “Now there is the history of that burglar alarm—everything just as it happened; nothing extenuated, and naught set down in malice. Yes, sir,—and when I had slept nine years with burglars, and maintained an expensive burglar alarm the whole time, for their protection, not mine, and at my sole cost—for not a d—-d cent could I ever get THEM to contribute—I just said to Mrs. McWilliams that I had had enough of that kind of pie; so with her full consent I took the whole thing out and traded it off for a dog, and shot the dog. I don't know what you think about it, Mr. Twain; but I think those things are made solely in the interest of the burglars. Yes, sir, a burglar alarm combines in its person all that is objectionable about a fire, a riot, and a harem, and at the same time had none of the compensating advantages, of one sort or another, that customarily belong with that combination. Good-by: I get off here.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mark Twain (2008). The Mysterious Stranger, and Other Stories. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3186/pg3186-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The McWilliamses and the Burglar Alarm

The Mysterious Stranger, and Other Stories by Mark Twain, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Hunting the deceitful Turkey here Hunting the deceitful Turkey When I was a boy my uncle and his big boys hunted with the rifle, the youngest boy Fred and I with a shotgun—a small single-barrelled shotgun which was properly suited to our size and strength; it was not much heavier than a broom. We carried it turn about, half an hour at a time. I was not able to hit anything with it, but I liked to try. Fred and I hunted feathered small game, the others hunted deer, squirrels, wild turkeys, and such things. My uncle and the big boys were good shots. They killed hawks and wild geese and such like on the wing; and they didn't wound or kill squirrels, they stunned them. When the dogs treed a squirrel, the squirrel would scamper aloft and run out on a limb and flatten himself along it, hoping to make himself invisible in that way—and not quite succeeding. You could see his wee little ears sticking up. You couldn't see his nose, but you knew where it was. Then the hunter, despising a “rest” for his rifle, stood up and took offhand aim at the limb and sent a bullet into it immediately under the squirrel's nose, and down tumbled the animal, unwounded, but unconscious; the dogs gave him a shake and he was dead. Sometimes when the distance was great and the wind not accurately allowed for, the bullet would hit the squirrel's head; the dogs could do as they pleased with that one—the hunter's pride was hurt, and he wouldn't allow it to go into the gamebag. In the first faint gray of the dawn the stately wild turkeys would be stalking around in great flocks, and ready to be sociable and answer invitations to come and converse with other excursionists of their kind. The hunter concealed himself and imitated the turkey-call by sucking the air through the leg-bone of a turkey which had previously answered a call like that and lived only just long enough to regret it. There is nothing that furnishes a perfect turkey-call except that bone. Another of Nature's treacheries, you see. She is full of them; half the time she doesn't know which she likes best—to betray her child or protect it. In the case of the turkey she is badly mixed: she gives it a bone to be used in getting it into trouble, and she also furnishes it with a trick for getting itself out of the trouble again. When a mamma-turkey answers an invitation and finds she has made a mistake in accepting it, she does as the mamma-partridge does—remembers a previous engagement—and goes limping and scrambling away, pretending to be very lame; and at the same time she is saying to her not-visible children, “Lie low, keep still, don't expose yourselves; I shall be back as soon as I have beguiled this shabby swindler out of the country.” When a person is ignorant and confiding, this immoral device can have tiresome results. I followed an ostensibly lame turkey over a considerable part of the United States one morning, because I believed in her and could not think she would deceive a mere boy, and one who was trusting her and considering her honest. I had the single-barrelled shotgun, but my idea was to catch her alive. I often got within rushing distance of her, and then made my rush; but always, just as I made my final plunge and put my hand down where her back had been, it wasn't there; it was only two or three inches from there and I brushed the tail-feathers as I landed on my stomach—a very close call, but still not quite close enough; that is, not close enough for success, but just close enough to convince me that I could do it next time. She always waited for me, a little piece away, and let on to be resting and greatly fatigued; which was a lie, but I believed it, for I still thought her honest long after I ought to have begun to doubt her, suspecting that this was no way for a high-minded bird to be acting. I followed, and followed, and followed, making my periodical rushes, and getting up and brushing the dust off, and resuming the voyage with patient confidence; indeed, with a confidence which grew, for I could see by the change of climate and vegetation that we were getting up into the high latitudes, and as she always looked a little tireder and a little more discouraged after each rush, I judged that I was safe to win, in the end, the competition being purely a matter of staying power and the advantage lying with me from the start because she was lame. Along in the afternoon I began to feel fatigued myself. Neither of us had had any rest since we first started on the excursion, which was upwards of ten hours before, though latterly we had paused awhile after rushes, I letting on to be thinking about something else; but neither of us sincere, and both of us waiting for the other to call game but in no real hurry about it, for indeed those little evanescent snatches of rest were very grateful to the feelings of us both; it would naturally be so, skirmishing along like that ever since dawn and not a bite in the meantime; at least for me, though sometimes as she lay on her side fanning herself with a wing and praying for strength to get out of this difficulty a grasshopper happened along whose time had come, and that was well for her, and fortunate, but I had nothing—nothing the whole day. More than once, after I was very tired, I gave up taking her alive, and was going to shoot her, but I never did it, although it was my right, for I did not believe I could hit her; and besides, she always stopped and posed, when I raised the gun, and this made me suspicious that she knew about me and my marksmanship, and so I did not care to expose myself to remarks. I did not get her, at all. When she got tired of the game at last, she rose from almost under my hand and flew aloft with the rush and whir of a shell and lit on the highest limb of a great tree and sat down and crossed her legs and smiled down at me, and seemed gratified to see me so astonished. I was ashamed, and also lost; and it was while wandering the woods hunting for myself that I found a deserted log cabin and had one of the best meals there that in my life-days I have eaten. The weed-grown garden was full of ripe tomatoes, and I ate them ravenously, though I had never liked them before. Not more than two or three times since have I tasted anything that was so delicious as those tomatoes. I surfeited myself with them, and did not taste another one until I was in middle life. I can eat them now, but I do not like the look of them. I suppose we have all experienced a surfeit at one time or another. Once, in stress of circumstances, I ate part of a barrel of sardines, there being nothing else at hand, but since then I have always been able to get along without sardines. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mark Twain (2008). The Mysterious Stranger, and Other Stories. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3186/pg3186-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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