Natale 1 Brooke Natale Professor Thoreson English 101 10 October 2006 Unplugged In Marie Winn’s essay, “Television: The Plug-In Drug,” she states that television once was viewed as something that was positive and brought families together; it now has more negative effects. Winn puts it best when she talks about “early illustration…a family cozily sitting together before the television set, Sis on Mom’s lap, Buddy perched on the arm of Dad’s chair, Dad with his arm around Mom’s shoulder…twenty years or so later Mom would be watching a drama in the kitchen, the kids would be looking at cartoons in their room, while Dad would be taking in the ball game in the living room” (par. 5). There is no such thing as family television anymore.
Kenyon was tied down to a couch in the basement rec room and shot, while Nancy and Mrs. Clutter were tied down and shot in their respective beds. Paranoia and mistrust spread through Holcomb. The Clutters were perhaps the most secure, upstanding family in the community. No one now feels safe. In the town of Olathe, Perry and Dick are eating in a diner.
Name: Mennatallah Gamal Grade: 10 Wolf Man Samy pulled out of the gas station parking lot, turning sharply as the tires scraped the highway. Heavy hills rolled out endlessly ahead of him and his brother, Fady, who was fast asleep in the passenger seat. The two boys were on their way to visit their Uncle Sayd. His wife, Fayza, had just passed away and he needed help going through some of her stuff, and fixing up her old cottage in the Rocky Mountains. Slowly, Fady stirred.
When the restaurant closes, Tyler heads home in his car. He usually stops to get some dinner, even though it is 11:30 p.m. He typically picks up a large pepperoni pizza that he consumes in one sitting. Sometimes, he follows the pizza with handfuls of cookies that he eats while lying down on the couch and watching late night television. Lately, he finds it difficult to fall asleep though.
Gun Control Issues 1 Gun Control Issues in America Gun Control Issues 2 You are alone with your young child inside your quiet suburban home nestled away in the woods. You just finished watching a movie, and you are preparing everyone for bed. Suddenly, one of the downstairs windows shatters. Then, there are footsteps. You open the bedroom door ever so quietly, trying not to make a sound, to get a good view of what is going on and who is in your home.
I hit the buzzer and looked around. Boxes were still stacked up along the wall. I had crashed on the couch that had been left by the last tenant of this basement studio apartment, which was now mine. I got ready, took one last look at the space that was be safe; solitary and mine. As I walked along the side of my apartment building I saw my car parked I was headed to Green Leaf Maximum Security Correctional Institute.
I spent many hours practicing shooting at a deer dummy and a fusion block to prepare for bow hunting. This hunting experience happened three years ago. I was hunting on our hunting lease called the Gibson place. At the edge of the forest is a favorite huge oak tree that I love to hunt out of. My brother, Brandon, and I had planted some corn near the edge of the forest so that the deer would have plenty to eat close to my hunting spot.
There were at least three and often closer to six people to each room, in which the occupants slept, worked, had parties, ate, drank, sulked, wrote letters, cooked, smoked and hung out their washing. In Room 179, which Emily and I shared with Ira, a kind, velvety-eyed girl from a town in the Voronezh region, our belongings were thrust under the beds and into two thin, coffin-shaped cupboards by the door. The fridge chugged like an idling truck. The Voronezh-made television, which Ira turned on as soon as she woke up, crackled and buzzed. The brand-new orange wallpaper peeled gently away from the walls and the rug we bought from the Univermag gave off puffs of red and purple powder at every
A madman has moved into our house." Young Christoph can't believe his family's misfortune with their new boarder. Mr Beethoven has rented the upstairs rooms, and the terrible noises begin at dawn. There's loud pounding and howling, stomping and crashing. Beethoven has four pianos, some without legs sitting right on the floor so that he can "hear" the vibrations of his music.
I’ve been hunting deer for almost a decade and never once have I had the opportunity to shoot an eye-dropping trophy buck. Little did I know, my luck was to be completely turned around the very next morning. Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep, I jumped out of bed wide awake, heart pounding out of my chest. I woke up confusingly alerted probably due to my dream/nightmare I just came out of, and I began my morning ritual. I walked into the kitchen and poured me a bowl of cereal, started up the coffee machine and turned on the morning news.