Why College Athletes Must Finish School First free essay sample

Introduction For many college athletes, the lure of playing pro sports is intoxicating. Dreams of fancy cars, luxurious homes, tailor-made suits, voluptuous women, and the mental images of a crowded stadium chanting their name is enough for any collegiate athlete to think about abandoning their education for a chance at stardom. When the dreams are solidified with million dollar contracts, think immediately is replaced by impulse. Left behind in the frenzy is the much needed college education that no one seems to care about any more. An athletes only hope is to complete a college education first for what lifes lessons has to offer later when hard-knocks is the final exam. Many people believe there is no need for an education because of the money that is made by professional athletes. They are indeed right. The average athlete earns an annual salary of $3. 3million. The problems are that many professional athlete are either bankrupt or in jail, mostly because of impulse control disorders that cause millions of dollars to disappear. We will write a custom essay sample on Why College Athletes Must Finish School First or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page There is no wonder as to 78% of NFL players going broke within 2 years and 60% of NBA players are broke within 5 years of their retirement. Are they a product of their environment? Want to bet? It starts young. Most athletes who make it to the professional level are from lower to middle socioeconomic status where they have been involved in sports since they were young. According to the American Psychological Association, lower socioeconomic statuses correlates to lower education, poverty, and poor health. The effects are inequities in wealth distribution, resource redistribution, and quality of life. The American Psychological Association also identifies lower to middle socioeconomic statuses who are in college in association with the feeling of not belonging in school, thus dropping out before they graduate; perhaps the reason collegiate athletes impulsively abandon their education not only for the mere millions of dollars, but to fit in a world with peers who share the same socioeconomic statuses where they feel the sense of belonging. The problem is the impulsive behaviors continue and are only strengthen by those around them. The negative effects of lower to middle socioeconomic statuses are learned behaviors with a belief that they â€Å"need† certain items to fit in as normal Americans. So, when they see it, they buy it, -an impulse. Impulse is the automated response devoid of thought. A part of what makes an athlete great, but when too many actions are gratified through habitual repetition of impulses that control ill-eminent behavior off the playing field, disorder of rational thought gives birth to an impulse control disorder. The most troubling impulse control disorders are gambling, overspending, and hyper sexuality. The impulse control disorders that habituate bad behaviors are no stranger to professional athletes. As young athletes learn to act on impulse, they carry on the impulse behavior as they reach adulthood. By this time, cliches, privileges, and attitudes of superiority become a pattern that discerns a collegiate athlete in making critical decisions. Over time, impulse control disorders are so prevalent that athletes get used to other people making their decisions for them. The responsibility is then shifted, rendering the athlete powerless against his or her own destiny. As disorder norminates behavior through the absence of thought, responsible behavior become devoid as does the logic to abandon their college education for a chance as a professional athlete. Then again, how many of us would throw away the winning numbers to the lottery? The same impulse control disorder behaviors by athletes are similar to those that have won the lottery then lost it all. Meet Evelyn Adams. She won the New Jersey lottery not once but twice with the total winnings at $5. 4 million. â€Å"Winning the lottery isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be, â€Å"says Evelyn Adams, â€Å"everybody wanted my money. Everybody had their hand out. I never learned one simple word in the English language no. † Might sound familiar to some professional athletes that can’t just say no for squandering their money, or the collegiate athlete who cannot say no to the multi-million dollar contract. It is imperative for collegiate athletes to finish their college education because of the impulse control disorders that can be overly exploited by the other people and powers that be. Many people cannot phantom a collegiate athlete passing on the opportunity of a lifetime in the same light they see themselves to be foolish for hrowing away the winning lottery ticket. Friends and family often live vicariously through their beloved collegiate athlete in the fact they never been through college themselves. They end up rooting for their success all the way. That is until their athlete is approached by a pro-sports agent and asked to abandon their college education for a career at the professional leve l of stardom and riches. For family and friends, the benefits of a college education for their beloved athlete become null as they see the athlete’s opportunity for themselves. Yet family and friends are least of worries for the athlete to be concerned more for the powers that be. The money that professional athletes can generate draws other people with bigger intentions with less the caring. The powers that be are the television networks, owners, sponsors, and sports agents who receive millions of dollars with no regard for the well-being of the collegiate athlete or the effects of an unfinished college education. As the powers that be are concerned, the college athletes are their mule and forty acres. Athletes should not fall prey to the roar of the crowd nor the dollar signs promised in million dollar contracts. Completing a college degree teaches maturity and responsibility along with the many positive influences that his/her classmates may be to them. The fact that impulse disorders are exploited for everyone else’s benefit should raise a red flag that a completed college education is not only a wise back-up plan when their pro-career comes to a screeching halt, but a great tool for student athletes to learn life’s many lessons before they become pro.

Life after Death - notes Essays - Philosophy Of Mind, Ontology

Life after Death - notes Essays - Philosophy Of Mind, Ontology Life after Death - notes Pascal's Wager is the idea that, if you don't know whether there is an afterlife. Dualists There are two aspects to human beings, a physical body and a non-physical soul They tend to believe in life after death Monists/materialists The monist view states that we are physical bodies only. Once we die, that's it. Emotions are simply psycho-chemical reactions and nothing more. The Problem Whether the mind and body are one of the same nature (monistic view) or whether they have two natures (dualistic view). What therefore happens when we die? Dualism This is the notion that humans have composite natures (the material part is the physical body and the non-material part is the mind/soul). The mind and body both exist though and are linked in some way. Plato Although Platos beliefs have changed over time, his general belief about the soul is that it is immaterial, and the real me. It is pre-existent and immortal. We come back in our next life as something better or worse depending on how we were during our previous life, until we fulfil our potential and enter a type of heaven. Descartes Our body is spatial but not conscious, while the mind is not spatial but is conscious. Even though this mind and body were separate, they interact within the brain. The state of the body will affect the mind and vice versa. When people die their body is left behind although their soul is able to continue with God. We are simply survival machines, Dawkins says, and we exist only to pass on our genes: "There is no spirit-driven life force" He states that belief in the soul/life after death is just wish fulfilment for those who fear death. There are problems with dualism though: How do souls and bodies interact if they are completely separate things? Gilbert Ryle dismissed dualism as a theory about a ghost [mind] in a machine [body]. He felt that this separation of the mind and body was a category mistake. Use the example of *Cambridge University and asking where is the university. Materialism/Monism/Behaviourism This is the view that the mind cannot be separated from the body Aristotle We are made up of two things a body (matter) and a soul or psyche (the form), and (unlike Plato) the soul is an integral part of the body. You cant have one without the other (e.g. a cake cannot be a cake without its ingredients or form). The soul animates the body, by organising a potential living body into an actual living body. Aquinas took on these ideas. Gilbert Ryle Rejects the idea of the soul. All mental events are physical events interpreted in a mental way. But what if for example we were wishing? This is not a physical event. He believes that an individual is a physical living body and no more, and so when the body dies thats it, the whole person is dead. Dawkins Biological materialist. Doesnt believe in a soul. He believed that life is simply physical matter made up of DNA. We are the survival machines for this DNA as we are simply gene machines driven by our genes to protect and duplicate themselves. He takes a reductionist approach believing that the mind is nothing but a computer made of meat. Evolution filters in the good genes and filters out the bad. Does believe in consciousness though (as more important that DNA). Once the DNA has developed the brain, it can begin to think for itself as an individual and consider the consequences of its own actions. Is this simply what others call a soul though? And although Dawkins believes that everything points away from a creator, as Peter Williams pointed out, where did this information/DNA originally come from. Was there no mind behind this? Hick He is also a materialist although, unlike Dawkins, he believes in a life after death as well as God. Hicks Replica Theory believes that the soul cannot be separated from the body, and at the point of death on earth, God creates an exact replica of that person in another space. They would look the same and have the same memories. This theory is very vague though. A Mixture between Monism and Dualism Aquinas He modified Aristotles thinking. Believed that the soul is the form of the body and therefore the body needs the soul to

A Game of Thrones Chapter Forty

Pale white mists rose off Alyssa’s Tears, where the ghost waters plunged over the shoulder of the mountain to begin their long tumble down the face of the Giant’s Lance. Catelyn could feel the faint touch of spray on her face. Alyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and all her children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. So in death, the gods had decreed that she would know no rest until her weeping watered the black earth of the Vale, where the men she had loved were buried. Alyssa had been dead six thousand years now, and still no drop of the torrent had ever reached the valley floor far below. Catelyn wondered how large a waterfall her own tears would make when she died. â€Å"Tell me the rest of it,† she said. â€Å"The Kingslayer is massing a host at Casterly Rock,† Ser Rodrik Cassel answered from the room behind her. â€Å"Your brother writes that he has sent riders to the Rock, demanding that Lord Tywin proclaim his intent, but he has had no answer. Edmure has commanded Lord Vance and Lord Piper to guard the pass below the Golden Tooth. He vows to you that he will yield no foot of Tully land without first watering it with Lannister blood.† Catelyn turned away from the sunrise. Its beauty did little to lighten her mood; it seemed cruel for a day to dawn so fair and end so foul as this one promised to. â€Å"Edmure has sent riders and made vows,† she said, â€Å"but Edmure is not the Lord of Riverrun. What of my lord father?† â€Å"The message made no mention of Lord Hoster, my lady.† Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. They had grown in white as snow and bristly as a thornbush while he was recovering from his wounds; he looked almost himself again. â€Å"My father would not have given the defense of Riverrun over to Edmure unless he was very sick,† she said, worried. â€Å"I should have been woken as soon as this bird arrived.† â€Å"Your lady sister thought it better to let you sleep, Maester Colemon told me.† â€Å"I should have been woken,† she insisted. â€Å"The maester tells me your sister planned to speak with you after the combat,† Ser Rodrik said. â€Å"Then she still plans to go through with this mummer’s farce?† Catelyn grimaced. â€Å"The dwarf has played her like a set of pipes, and she is too deaf to hear the tune. Whatever happens this morning, Ser Rodrik, it is past time we took our leave. My place is at Winterfell with my sons. If you are strong enough to travel, I shall ask Lysa for an escort to see us to Gulltown. We can take ship from there.† â€Å"Another ship?† Ser Rodrik looked a shade green, yet he managed not to shudder. â€Å"As you say, my lady.† The old knight waited outside her door as Catelyn summoned the servants Lysa had given her. If she spoke to her sister before the duel, perhaps she could change her mind, she thought as they dressed her. Lysa’s policies varied with her moods, and her moods changed hourly. The shy girl she had known at Riverrun had grown into a woman who was by turns proud, fearful, cruel, dreamy, reckless, timid, stubborn, vain, and, above all, inconstant. When that vile turnkey of hers had come crawling to tell them that Tyrion Lannister wished to confess, Catelyn had urged Lysa to have the dwarf brought to them privately, but no, nothing would do but that her sister must make a show of him before half the Vale. And now this . . . â€Å"Lannister is my prisoner,† she told Ser Rodrik as they descended the tower stairs and made their way through the Eyrie’s cold white halls. Catelyn wore plain grey wool with a silvered belt. â€Å"My sister must be reminded of that.† At the doors to Lysa’s apartments, they met her uncle storming out. â€Å"Going to join the fool’s festival?† Ser Brynden snapped. â€Å"I’d tell you to slap some sense into your sister, if I thought it would do any good, but you’d only bruise your hand.† â€Å"There was a bird from Riverrun,† Catelyn began, â€Å"a letter from Edmure . . . â€Å" â€Å"I know, child.† The black fish that fastened his cloak was Brynden’s only concession to ornament. â€Å"I had to hear it from Maester Colemon. I asked your sister for leave to take a thousand seasoned men and ride for Riverrun with all haste. Do you know what she told me? The Vale cannot spare a thousand swords, nor even one, Uncle, she said. You are the Knight of the Gate. Your place is here.† A gust of childish laughter drifted through the open doors behind him, and her uncle glanced darkly over his shoulder. â€Å"Well, I told her she could bloody well find herself a new Knight of the Gate. Black fish or no, I am still a Tully. I shall leave for Riverrun by evenfall.† Catelyn could not pretend to surprise. â€Å"Alone? You know as well as I that you will never survive the high road. Ser Rodrik and I are returning to Winterfell. Come with us, Uncle. I will give you your thousand men. Riverrun will not fight alone.† Brynden thought a moment, then nodded a brusque agreement. â€Å"As you say. It’s the long way home, but I’m more like to get there. I’ll wait for you below.† He went striding off, his cloak swirling behind him. Catelyn exchanged a look with Ser Rodrik. They went through the doors to the high, nervous sound of a child’s giggles. Lysa’s apartments opened over a small garden, a circle of dirt and grass planted with blue flowers and ringed on all sides by tall white towers. The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here. So the Lords of the Eyrie planted grass and scattered statuary amidst low, flowering shrubs. It was there the two champions would meet to place their lives, and that of Tyrion Lannister, into the hands of the gods. Lysa, freshly scrubbed and garbed in cream velvet with a rope of sapphires and moonstones around her milk-white neck, was holding court on the terrace overlooking the scene of the combat, surrounded by her knights, retainers, and lords high and low. Most of them still hoped to wed her, bed her, and rule the Vale of Arryn by her side. From what Catelyn had seen during her stay at the Eyrie, it was a vain hope. A wooden platform had been built to elevate Robert’s chair; there the Lord of the Eyrie sat, giggling and clapping his hands as a humpbacked puppeteer in blue-and-white motley made two wooden knights hack and slash at each other. Pitchers of thick cream and baskets of blackberries had been set out, and the guests were sipping a sweet orange-scented wine from engraved silver cups. A fool’s festival, Brynden had called it, and small wonder. Across the terrace, Lysa laughed gaily at some jest of Lord Hunter’s, and nibbled a blackberry from the point of Ser Lyn Corbray’s dagger. They were the suitors who stood highest in Lysa’s favor . . . today, at least. Catelyn would have been hard-pressed to say which man was more unsuitable. Eon Hunter was even older than Jon Arryn had been, half-crippled by gout, and cursed with three quarrelsome sons, each more grasping than the last. Ser Lyn was a different sort of folly; lean and handsome, heir to an ancient but impoverished house, but vain, reckless, hot-tempered . . . and, it was whispered, notoriously uninterested in the intimate charms of women. When Lysa espied Catelyn, she welcomed her with a sisterly embrace and a moist kiss on the cheek. â€Å"Isn’t it a lovely morning? The gods are smiling on us. Do try a cup of the wine, sweet sister. Lord Hunter was kind enough to send for it, from his own cellars.† â€Å"Thank you, no. Lysa, we must talk.† â€Å"After,† her sister promised, already beginning to turn away from her. â€Å"Now.† Catelyn spoke more loudly than she’d intended. Men were turning to look. â€Å"Lysa, you cannot mean to go ahead with this folly. Alive, the Imp has value. Dead, he is only food for crows. And if his champion should prevail here—† â€Å"Small chance of that, my lady,† Lord Hunter assured her, patting her shoulder with a liver-spotted hand. â€Å"Ser Vardis is a doughty fighter. He will make short work of the sellsword.† â€Å"Will he, my lord?† Catelyn said coolly. â€Å"I wonder.† She had seen Bronn fight on the high road; it was no accident that he had survived the journey while other men had died. He moved like a panther, and that ugly sword of his seemed a part of his arm. Lysa’s suitors were gathering around them like bees round a blossom. â€Å"Women understand little of these things,† Ser Morton Waynwood said. â€Å"Ser Vardis is a knight, sweet lady. This other fellow, well, his sort are all cowards at heart. Useful enough in a battle, with thousands of their fellows around them, but stand them up alone and the manhood leaks right out of them.† â€Å"Say you have the truth of it, then,† Catelyn said with a courtesy that made her mouth ache. â€Å"What will we gain by the dwarf’s death? Do you imagine that Jaime will care a fig that we gave his brother a trial before we flung him off a mountain?† â€Å"Behead the man,† Ser Lyn Corbray suggested. â€Å"When the Kingslayer receives the Imp’s head, it will be a warning to him,† Lysa gave an impatient shake of her waist-long auburn hair. â€Å"Lord Robert wants to see him fly,† she said, as if that settled the matter. â€Å"And the Imp has only himself to blame. It was he who demanded a trial by combat.† â€Å"Lady Lysa had no honorable way to deny him, even if she’d wished to,† Lord Hunter intoned ponderously. Ignoring them all, Catelyn turned all her force on her sister. â€Å"I remind you, Tyrion Lannister is my prisoner.† â€Å"And I remind you, the dwarf murdered my lord husband!† Her voice rose. â€Å"He poisoned the Hand of the King and left my sweet baby fatherless, and now I mean to see him pay!† Whirling, her skirts swinging around her, Lysa stalked across the terrace. Ser Lyn and Ser Morton and the other suitors excused themselves with cool nods and trailed after her. â€Å"Do you think he did?† Ser Rodrik asked her quietly when they were alone again. â€Å"Murder Lord Jon, that is? The Imp still denies it, and most fiercely . . . â€Å" â€Å"I believe the Lannisters murdered Lord Arryn,† Catelyn replied, â€Å"but whether it was Tyrion, or Ser Jaime, or the queen, or all of them together, I could not begin to say.† Lysa had named Cersei in the letter she had sent to Winterfell, but now she seemed certain that Tyrion was the killer . . . perhaps because the dwarf was here, while the queen was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep, hundreds of leagues to the south. Catelyn almost wished she had burned her sister’s letter before reading it. Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. â€Å"Poison, well . . . that could be the dwarf’s work, true enough. Or Cersei’s. It’s said poison is a woman’s weapon, begging your pardons, my lady. The Kingslayer, now . . . I have no great liking for the man, but he’s not the sort. Too fond of the sight of blood on that golden sword of his. Was it poison, my lady?† Catelyn frowned, vaguely uneasy. â€Å"How else could they make it look a natural death?† Behind her, Lord Robert shrieked with delight as one of the puppet knights sliced the other in half, spilling a flood of red sawdust onto the terrace. She glanced at her nephew and sighed. â€Å"The boy is utterly without discipline. He will never be strong enough to rule unless he is taken away from his mother for a time.† â€Å"His lord father agreed with you,† said a voice at her elbow. She turned to behold Maester Colemon, a cup of wine in his hand. â€Å"He was planning to send the boy to Dragonstone for fostering, you know . . . oh, but I’m speaking out of turn.† The apple of his throat bobbed anxiously beneath the loose maester’s chain. â€Å"I fear I’ve had too much of Lord Hunter’s excellent wine. The prospect of bloodshed has my nerves all a-fray . . . â€Å" â€Å"You are mistaken, Maester,† Catelyn said. â€Å"It was Casterly Rock, not Dragonstone, and those arrangements were made after the Hand’s death, without my sister’s consent.† The maester’s head jerked so vigorously at the end of his absurdly long neck that he looked half a puppet himself. â€Å"No, begging your forgiveness, my lady, but it was Lord Jon who—† A bell tolled loudly below them. High lords and serving girls alike broke off what they were doing and moved to the balustrade. Below, two guardsmen in sky-blue cloaks led forth Tyrion Lannister. The Eyrie’s plump septon escorted him to the statue in the center of the garden, a weeping woman carved in veined white marble, no doubt meant to be Alyssa. â€Å"The bad little man,† Lord Robert said, giggling. â€Å"Mother, can I make him fly? I want to see him fly.† â€Å"Later, my sweet baby,† Lysa promised him. â€Å"Trial first,† drawled Ser Lyn Corbray, â€Å"then execution.† A moment later the two champions appeared from opposite sides of the garden. The knight was attended by two young squires, the sellsword by the Eyrie’s master-at-arms. Ser Vardis Egen was steel from head to heel, encased in heavy plate armor over mail and padded surcoat. Large circular rondels, enameled cream-and-blue in the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, protected the vulnerable juncture of arm and breast. A skirt of lobstered metal covered him from waist to midthigh, while a solid gorget encircled his throat. Falcon’s wings sprouted from the temples of his helm, and his visor was a pointed metal beak with a narrow slit for vision. Bronn was so lightly armored he looked almost naked beside the knight. He wore only a shirt of black oiled ringmail over boiled leather, a round steel halfhelm with a noseguard, and a mail coif. High leather boots with steel shinguards gave some protection to his legs, and discs of black iron were sewn into the fingers of his gloves. Yet Catelyn noted that the sellsword stood half a hand taller than his foe, with a longer reach . . . and Bronn was fifteen years younger, if she was any judge. They knelt in the grass beneath the weeping woman, facing each other, with Lannister between them. The septon removed a faceted crystal sphere from the soft cloth bag at his waist. He lifted it high above his head, and the light shattered. Rainbows danced across the Imp’s face. In a high, solemn, singsong voice, the septon asked the gods to look down and bear witness, to find the truth in this man’s soul, to grant him life and freedom if he was innocent, death if he was guilty. His voice echoed off the surrounding towers. When the last echo had died away, the septon lowered his crystal and made a hasty departure. Tyrion leaned over and whispered something in Bronn’s ear before the guardsmen led him away. The sellsword rose laughing and brushed a blade of grass from his knee. Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale, was fidgeting impatiently in his elevated chair. â€Å"When are they going to fight?† he asked plaintively. Ser Vardis was helped back to his feet by one of his squires. The other brought him a triangular shield almost four feet tall, heavy oak dotted with iron studs. They strapped it to his left forearm. When Lysa’s master-at-arms offered Bronn a similar shield, the sellsword spat and waved it away. Three days growth of coarse black beard covered his jaw and cheeks, but if he did not shave it was not for want of a razor; the edge of his sword had the dangerous glimmer of steel that had been honed every day for hours, until it was too sharp to touch. Ser Vardis held out a gauntleted hand, and his squire placed a handsome double-edged longsword in his grasp. The blade was engraved with a delicate silver tracery of a mountain sky; its pommel was a falcon’s head, its crossguard fashioned into the shape of wings. â€Å"I had that sword crafted for Jon in King’s Landing,† Lysa told her guests proudly as they watched Ser Vardis try a practice cut. â€Å"He wore it whenever he sat the Iron Throne in King Robert’s place. Isn’t it a lovely thing? I thought it only fitting that our champion avenge Jon with his own blade.† The engraved silver blade was beautiful beyond a doubt, but it seemed to Catelyn that Ser Vardis might have been more comfortable with his own sword. Yet she said nothing; she was weary of futile arguments with her sister. â€Å"Make them fight!† Lord Robert called out. Ser Vardis faced the Lord of the Eyrie and lifted his sword in salute. â€Å"For the Eyrie and the Vale!† Tyrion Lannister had been seated on a balcony across the garden, flanked by his guards. It was to him that Bronn turned with a cursory salute. â€Å"They await your command,† Lady Lysa said to her lord son. â€Å"Fight!† the boy screamed, his arms trembling as they clutched at his chair. Ser Vardis swiveled, bringing up his heavy shield. Bronn turned to face him. Their swords rang together, once, twice, a testing. The sellsword backed off a step. The knight came after, holding his shield before him. He tried a slash, but Bronn jerked back, just out of reach, and the silver blade cut only air. Bronn circled to his right. Ser Vardis turned to follow, keeping his shield between them. The knight pressed forward, placing each foot carefully on the uneven ground. The sellsword gave way, a faint smile playing over his lips. Ser Vardis attacked, slashing, but Bronn leapt away from him, hopping lightly over a low, moss-covered stone. Now the sellsword circled left, away from the shield, toward the knight’s unprotected side. Ser Vardis tried a hack at his legs, but he did not have the reach. Bronn danced farther to his left. Ser Vardis turned in place. â€Å"The man is craven,† Lord Hunter declared. â€Å"Stand and fight, coward! † Other voices echoed the sentiment. Catelyn looked to Ser Rodrik. Her master-at-arms gave a curt shake of his head. â€Å"He wants to make Ser Vardis chase him. The weight of armor and shield will tire even the strongest man.† She had seen men practice at their swordplay near every day of her life, had viewed half a hundred tourneys in her time, but this was something different and deadlier: a dance where the smallest misstep meant death. And as she watched, the memory of another duel in another time came back to Catelyn Stark, as vivid as if it had been yesterday. They met in the lower bailey of Riverrun. When Brandon saw that Petyr wore only helm and breastplate and mail, he took off most of his armor. Petyr had begged her for a favor he might wear, but she had turned him away. Her lord father promised her to Brandon Stark, and so it was to him that she gave her token, a pale blue handscarf she had embroidered with the leaping trout of Riverrun. As she pressed it into his hand, she pleaded with him. â€Å"He is only a foolish boy, but I have loved him like a brother. It would grieve me to see him die.† And her betrothed looked at her with the cool grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare the boy who loved her. That fight was over almost as soon as it began. Brandon was a man grown, and he drove Littlefinger all the way across the bailey and down the water stair, raining steel on him with every step, until the boy was staggering and bleeding from a dozen wounds. â€Å"Yield!† he called, more than once, but Petyr would only shake his head and fight on, grimly. When the river was lapping at their ankles, Brandon finally ended it, with a brutal backhand cut that bit through Petyr’s rings and leather into the soft flesh below the ribs, so deep that Catelyn was certain that the wound was mortal. He looked at her as he fell and murmured â€Å"Cat† as the bright blood came flowing out between his mailed fingers. She thought she had forgotten that. That was the last time she had seen his face . . . until the day she was brought before him in King’s Landing. A fortnight passed before Littlefinger was strong enough to leave Riverrun, but her lord father forbade her to visit him in the tower where he lay abed. Lysa helped their maester nurse him; she had been softer and shyer in those days. Edmure had called on him as well, but Petyr had sent him away. Her brother had acted as Brandon’s squire at the duel, and Littlefinger would not forgive that. As soon as he was strong enough to be moved, Lord Hoster Tully sent Petyr Baelish away in a closed litter, to finish his healing on the Fingers, upon the windswept jut of rock where he’d been born. The ringing clash of steel on steel jarred Catelyn back to the present. Ser Vardis was coming hard at Bronn, driving into him with shield and sword. The sellsword scrambled backward, checking each blow, stepping lithely over rock and root, his eyes never leaving his foe. He was quicker, Catelyn saw; the knight’s silvered sword never came near to touching him, but his own ugly grey blade hacked a notch from Ser Vardis’s shoulder plate. The brief flurry of fighting ended as swiftly as it had begun when Bronn sidestepped and slid behind the statue of the weeping woman. Ser Vardis lunged at where he had been, striking a spark off the pale marble of Alyssa’s thigh. â€Å"They’re not fighting good, Mother,† the Lord of the Eyrie complained. â€Å"I want them to fight.† â€Å"They will, sweet baby,† his mother soothed him. â€Å"The sellsword can’t run all day.† Some of the lords on Lysa’s terrace were making wry jests as they refilled their wine cups, but across the garden, Tyrion Lannister’s mismatched eyes watched the champions dance as if there were nothing else in the world. Bronn came out from behind the statue hard and fast, still moving left, aiming a two-handed cut at the knight’s unshielded right side. Ser Vardis blocked, but clumsily, and the sellsword’s blade flashed upward at his head. Metal rang, and a falcon’s wing collapsed with a crunch. Ser Vardis took a half step back to brace himself, raised his shield. Oak chips flew as Bronn’s sword hacked at the wooden wall. The sellsword stepped left again, away from the shield, and caught Ser Vardis across the stomach, the razor edge of his blade leaving a bright gash when it bit into the knight’s plate. Ser Vardis drove forward off his back foot, his own silver blade descending in a savage arc. Bronn slammed it aside and danced away. The knight crashed into the weeping woman, rocking her on her plinth. Staggered, he stepped backward, his head turning this way and that as he searched for his foe. The slit visor of his helm narrowed his vision. â€Å"Behind you, ser!† Lord Hunter shouted, too late. Bronn brought his sword down with both hands, catching Ser Vardis in the elbow of his sword arm. The thin lobstered metal that protected the joint crunched. The knight grunted, turning, wrenching his weapon up. This time Bronn stood his ground. The swords flew at each other, and their steel song filled the garden and rang off the white towers of the Eyrie. â€Å"Ser Vardis is hurt,† Ser Rodrik said, his voice grave. Catelyn did not need to be told; she had eyes, she could see the bright finger of blood running along the knight’s forearm, the wetness inside the elbow joint. Every parry was a little slower and a little lower than the one before. Ser Vardis turned his side to his foe, trying to use his shield to block instead, but Bronn slid around him, quick as a cat. The sellsword seemed to be getting stronger. His cuts were leaving their marks now. Deep shiny gashes gleamed all over the knight’s armor, on his right thigh, his beaked visor, crossing on his breastplate, a long one along the front of his gorget. The moon-and-falcon rondel over Ser Vardis’s right arm was sheared clean in half, hanging by its strap. They could hear his labored breath, rattling through the air holes in his visor. Blind with arrogance as they were, even the knights and lords of the Vale could see what was happening below them, yet her sister could not. â€Å"Enough, Ser Vardis!† Lady Lysa called down. â€Å"Finish him now, my baby is growing tired.† And it must be said of Ser Vardis Egen that he was true to his lady’s command, even to the last. One moment he was reeling backward, half-crouched behind his scarred shield; the next he charged. The sudden bull rush caught Bronn off balance. Ser Vardis crashed into him and slammed the lip of his shield into the sellsword’s face. Almost, almost, Bronn lost his feet . . . he staggered back, tripped over a rock, and caught hold of the weeping woman to keep his balance. Throwing aside his shield, Ser Vardis lurched after him, using both hands to raise his sword. His right arm was blood from elbow to fingers now, yet his last desperate blow would have opened Bronn from neck to navel . . . if the sellsword had stood to receive it. But Bronn jerked back. Jon Arryn’s beautiful engraved silver sword glanced off the marble elbow of the weeping woman and snapped clean a third of the way up the blade. Bronn put his shoulder into the statue’s back. The weathered likeness of Alyssa Arryn tottered and fell with a great crash, and Ser Vardis Egen went down beneath her. Bronn was on him in a heartbeat, kicking what was left of his shattered rondel aside to expose the weak spot between arm and breastplate. Ser Vardis was lying on his side, pinned beneath the broken torso of the weeping woman. Catelyn heard the knight groan as the sellsword lifted his blade with both hands and drove it down and in with all his weight behind it, under the arm and through the ribs. Ser Vardis Egen shuddered and lay still. Silence hung over the Eyrie. Bronn yanked off his halfhelm and let it fall to the grass. His lip was smashed and bloody where the shield had caught him, and his coal-black hair was soaked with sweat. He spit out a broken tooth. â€Å"Is it over, Mother?† the Lord of the Eyrie asked. No, Catelyn wanted to tell him, it’s only now beginning. â€Å"Yes,† Lysa said glumly, her voice as cold and dead as the captain of her guard. â€Å"Can I make the little man fly now?† Across the garden, Tyrion Lannister got to his feet. â€Å"Not this little man,† he said. â€Å"This little man is going down in the turnip hoist, thank you very much.† â€Å"You presume—† Lysa began. â€Å"I presume that House Arryn remembers its own words,† the Imp said. â€Å"As High as Honor.† â€Å"You promised I could make him fly,† the Lord of the Eyrie screamed at his mother. He began to shake. Lady Lysa’s face was flushed with fury. â€Å"The gods have seen fit to proclaim him innocent, child. We have no choice but to free him.† She lifted her voice. â€Å"Guards. Take my lord of Lannister and his . . . creature here out of my sight. Escort them to the Bloody Gate and set them free. See that they have horses and supplies sufficient to reach the Trident, and make certain all their goods and weapons are returned to them. They shall need them on the high road.† â€Å"The high road,† Tyrion Lannister said. Lysa allowed herself a faint, satisfied smile. It was another sort of death sentence, Catelyn realized. Tyrion Lannister must know that as well. Yet the dwarf favored Lady Arryn with a mocking bow. â€Å"As you command, my lady,† he said. â€Å"I believe we know the way.† A Game of Thrones Chapter Forty Pale white mists rose off Alyssa’s Tears, where the ghost waters plunged over the shoulder of the mountain to begin their long tumble down the face of the Giant’s Lance. Catelyn could feel the faint touch of spray on her face. Alyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and all her children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. So in death, the gods had decreed that she would know no rest until her weeping watered the black earth of the Vale, where the men she had loved were buried. Alyssa had been dead six thousand years now, and still no drop of the torrent had ever reached the valley floor far below. Catelyn wondered how large a waterfall her own tears would make when she died. â€Å"Tell me the rest of it,† she said. â€Å"The Kingslayer is massing a host at Casterly Rock,† Ser Rodrik Cassel answered from the room behind her. â€Å"Your brother writes that he has sent riders to the Rock, demanding that Lord Tywin proclaim his intent, but he has had no answer. Edmure has commanded Lord Vance and Lord Piper to guard the pass below the Golden Tooth. He vows to you that he will yield no foot of Tully land without first watering it with Lannister blood.† Catelyn turned away from the sunrise. Its beauty did little to lighten her mood; it seemed cruel for a day to dawn so fair and end so foul as this one promised to. â€Å"Edmure has sent riders and made vows,† she said, â€Å"but Edmure is not the Lord of Riverrun. What of my lord father?† â€Å"The message made no mention of Lord Hoster, my lady.† Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. They had grown in white as snow and bristly as a thornbush while he was recovering from his wounds; he looked almost himself again. â€Å"My father would not have given the defense of Riverrun over to Edmure unless he was very sick,† she said, worried. â€Å"I should have been woken as soon as this bird arrived.† â€Å"Your lady sister thought it better to let you sleep, Maester Colemon told me.† â€Å"I should have been woken,† she insisted. â€Å"The maester tells me your sister planned to speak with you after the combat,† Ser Rodrik said. â€Å"Then she still plans to go through with this mummer’s farce?† Catelyn grimaced. â€Å"The dwarf has played her like a set of pipes, and she is too deaf to hear the tune. Whatever happens this morning, Ser Rodrik, it is past time we took our leave. My place is at Winterfell with my sons. If you are strong enough to travel, I shall ask Lysa for an escort to see us to Gulltown. We can take ship from there.† â€Å"Another ship?† Ser Rodrik looked a shade green, yet he managed not to shudder. â€Å"As you say, my lady.† The old knight waited outside her door as Catelyn summoned the servants Lysa had given her. If she spoke to her sister before the duel, perhaps she could change her mind, she thought as they dressed her. Lysa’s policies varied with her moods, and her moods changed hourly. The shy girl she had known at Riverrun had grown into a woman who was by turns proud, fearful, cruel, dreamy, reckless, timid, stubborn, vain, and, above all, inconstant. When that vile turnkey of hers had come crawling to tell them that Tyrion Lannister wished to confess, Catelyn had urged Lysa to have the dwarf brought to them privately, but no, nothing would do but that her sister must make a show of him before half the Vale. And now this . . . â€Å"Lannister is my prisoner,† she told Ser Rodrik as they descended the tower stairs and made their way through the Eyrie’s cold white halls. Catelyn wore plain grey wool with a silvered belt. â€Å"My sister must be reminded of that.† At the doors to Lysa’s apartments, they met her uncle storming out. â€Å"Going to join the fool’s festival?† Ser Brynden snapped. â€Å"I’d tell you to slap some sense into your sister, if I thought it would do any good, but you’d only bruise your hand.† â€Å"There was a bird from Riverrun,† Catelyn began, â€Å"a letter from Edmure . . . â€Å" â€Å"I know, child.† The black fish that fastened his cloak was Brynden’s only concession to ornament. â€Å"I had to hear it from Maester Colemon. I asked your sister for leave to take a thousand seasoned men and ride for Riverrun with all haste. Do you know what she told me? The Vale cannot spare a thousand swords, nor even one, Uncle, she said. You are the Knight of the Gate. Your place is here.† A gust of childish laughter drifted through the open doors behind him, and her uncle glanced darkly over his shoulder. â€Å"Well, I told her she could bloody well find herself a new Knight of the Gate. Black fish or no, I am still a Tully. I shall leave for Riverrun by evenfall.† Catelyn could not pretend to surprise. â€Å"Alone? You know as well as I that you will never survive the high road. Ser Rodrik and I are returning to Winterfell. Come with us, Uncle. I will give you your thousand men. Riverrun will not fight alone.† Brynden thought a moment, then nodded a brusque agreement. â€Å"As you say. It’s the long way home, but I’m more like to get there. I’ll wait for you below.† He went striding off, his cloak swirling behind him. Catelyn exchanged a look with Ser Rodrik. They went through the doors to the high, nervous sound of a child’s giggles. Lysa’s apartments opened over a small garden, a circle of dirt and grass planted with blue flowers and ringed on all sides by tall white towers. The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here. So the Lords of the Eyrie planted grass and scattered statuary amidst low, flowering shrubs. It was there the two champions would meet to place their lives, and that of Tyrion Lannister, into the hands of the gods. Lysa, freshly scrubbed and garbed in cream velvet with a rope of sapphires and moonstones around her milk-white neck, was holding court on the terrace overlooking the scene of the combat, surrounded by her knights, retainers, and lords high and low. Most of them still hoped to wed her, bed her, and rule the Vale of Arryn by her side. From what Catelyn had seen during her stay at the Eyrie, it was a vain hope. A wooden platform had been built to elevate Robert’s chair; there the Lord of the Eyrie sat, giggling and clapping his hands as a humpbacked puppeteer in blue-and-white motley made two wooden knights hack and slash at each other. Pitchers of thick cream and baskets of blackberries had been set out, and the guests were sipping a sweet orange-scented wine from engraved silver cups. A fool’s festival, Brynden had called it, and small wonder. Across the terrace, Lysa laughed gaily at some jest of Lord Hunter’s, and nibbled a blackberry from the point of Ser Lyn Corbray’s dagger. They were the suitors who stood highest in Lysa’s favor . . . today, at least. Catelyn would have been hard-pressed to say which man was more unsuitable. Eon Hunter was even older than Jon Arryn had been, half-crippled by gout, and cursed with three quarrelsome sons, each more grasping than the last. Ser Lyn was a different sort of folly; lean and handsome, heir to an ancient but impoverished house, but vain, reckless, hot-tempered . . . and, it was whispered, notoriously uninterested in the intimate charms of women. When Lysa espied Catelyn, she welcomed her with a sisterly embrace and a moist kiss on the cheek. â€Å"Isn’t it a lovely morning? The gods are smiling on us. Do try a cup of the wine, sweet sister. Lord Hunter was kind enough to send for it, from his own cellars.† â€Å"Thank you, no. Lysa, we must talk.† â€Å"After,† her sister promised, already beginning to turn away from her. â€Å"Now.† Catelyn spoke more loudly than she’d intended. Men were turning to look. â€Å"Lysa, you cannot mean to go ahead with this folly. Alive, the Imp has value. Dead, he is only food for crows. And if his champion should prevail here—† â€Å"Small chance of that, my lady,† Lord Hunter assured her, patting her shoulder with a liver-spotted hand. â€Å"Ser Vardis is a doughty fighter. He will make short work of the sellsword.† â€Å"Will he, my lord?† Catelyn said coolly. â€Å"I wonder.† She had seen Bronn fight on the high road; it was no accident that he had survived the journey while other men had died. He moved like a panther, and that ugly sword of his seemed a part of his arm. Lysa’s suitors were gathering around them like bees round a blossom. â€Å"Women understand little of these things,† Ser Morton Waynwood said. â€Å"Ser Vardis is a knight, sweet lady. This other fellow, well, his sort are all cowards at heart. Useful enough in a battle, with thousands of their fellows around them, but stand them up alone and the manhood leaks right out of them.† â€Å"Say you have the truth of it, then,† Catelyn said with a courtesy that made her mouth ache. â€Å"What will we gain by the dwarf’s death? Do you imagine that Jaime will care a fig that we gave his brother a trial before we flung him off a mountain?† â€Å"Behead the man,† Ser Lyn Corbray suggested. â€Å"When the Kingslayer receives the Imp’s head, it will be a warning to him,† Lysa gave an impatient shake of her waist-long auburn hair. â€Å"Lord Robert wants to see him fly,† she said, as if that settled the matter. â€Å"And the Imp has only himself to blame. It was he who demanded a trial by combat.† â€Å"Lady Lysa had no honorable way to deny him, even if she’d wished to,† Lord Hunter intoned ponderously. Ignoring them all, Catelyn turned all her force on her sister. â€Å"I remind you, Tyrion Lannister is my prisoner.† â€Å"And I remind you, the dwarf murdered my lord husband!† Her voice rose. â€Å"He poisoned the Hand of the King and left my sweet baby fatherless, and now I mean to see him pay!† Whirling, her skirts swinging around her, Lysa stalked across the terrace. Ser Lyn and Ser Morton and the other suitors excused themselves with cool nods and trailed after her. â€Å"Do you think he did?† Ser Rodrik asked her quietly when they were alone again. â€Å"Murder Lord Jon, that is? The Imp still denies it, and most fiercely . . . â€Å" â€Å"I believe the Lannisters murdered Lord Arryn,† Catelyn replied, â€Å"but whether it was Tyrion, or Ser Jaime, or the queen, or all of them together, I could not begin to say.† Lysa had named Cersei in the letter she had sent to Winterfell, but now she seemed certain that Tyrion was the killer . . . perhaps because the dwarf was here, while the queen was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep, hundreds of leagues to the south. Catelyn almost wished she had burned her sister’s letter before reading it. Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. â€Å"Poison, well . . . that could be the dwarf’s work, true enough. Or Cersei’s. It’s said poison is a woman’s weapon, begging your pardons, my lady. The Kingslayer, now . . . I have no great liking for the man, but he’s not the sort. Too fond of the sight of blood on that golden sword of his. Was it poison, my lady?† Catelyn frowned, vaguely uneasy. â€Å"How else could they make it look a natural death?† Behind her, Lord Robert shrieked with delight as one of the puppet knights sliced the other in half, spilling a flood of red sawdust onto the terrace. She glanced at her nephew and sighed. â€Å"The boy is utterly without discipline. He will never be strong enough to rule unless he is taken away from his mother for a time.† â€Å"His lord father agreed with you,† said a voice at her elbow. She turned to behold Maester Colemon, a cup of wine in his hand. â€Å"He was planning to send the boy to Dragonstone for fostering, you know . . . oh, but I’m speaking out of turn.† The apple of his throat bobbed anxiously beneath the loose maester’s chain. â€Å"I fear I’ve had too much of Lord Hunter’s excellent wine. The prospect of bloodshed has my nerves all a-fray . . . â€Å" â€Å"You are mistaken, Maester,† Catelyn said. â€Å"It was Casterly Rock, not Dragonstone, and those arrangements were made after the Hand’s death, without my sister’s consent.† The maester’s head jerked so vigorously at the end of his absurdly long neck that he looked half a puppet himself. â€Å"No, begging your forgiveness, my lady, but it was Lord Jon who—† A bell tolled loudly below them. High lords and serving girls alike broke off what they were doing and moved to the balustrade. Below, two guardsmen in sky-blue cloaks led forth Tyrion Lannister. The Eyrie’s plump septon escorted him to the statue in the center of the garden, a weeping woman carved in veined white marble, no doubt meant to be Alyssa. â€Å"The bad little man,† Lord Robert said, giggling. â€Å"Mother, can I make him fly? I want to see him fly.† â€Å"Later, my sweet baby,† Lysa promised him. â€Å"Trial first,† drawled Ser Lyn Corbray, â€Å"then execution.† A moment later the two champions appeared from opposite sides of the garden. The knight was attended by two young squires, the sellsword by the Eyrie’s master-at-arms. Ser Vardis Egen was steel from head to heel, encased in heavy plate armor over mail and padded surcoat. Large circular rondels, enameled cream-and-blue in the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, protected the vulnerable juncture of arm and breast. A skirt of lobstered metal covered him from waist to midthigh, while a solid gorget encircled his throat. Falcon’s wings sprouted from the temples of his helm, and his visor was a pointed metal beak with a narrow slit for vision. Bronn was so lightly armored he looked almost naked beside the knight. He wore only a shirt of black oiled ringmail over boiled leather, a round steel halfhelm with a noseguard, and a mail coif. High leather boots with steel shinguards gave some protection to his legs, and discs of black iron were sewn into the fingers of his gloves. Yet Catelyn noted that the sellsword stood half a hand taller than his foe, with a longer reach . . . and Bronn was fifteen years younger, if she was any judge. They knelt in the grass beneath the weeping woman, facing each other, with Lannister between them. The septon removed a faceted crystal sphere from the soft cloth bag at his waist. He lifted it high above his head, and the light shattered. Rainbows danced across the Imp’s face. In a high, solemn, singsong voice, the septon asked the gods to look down and bear witness, to find the truth in this man’s soul, to grant him life and freedom if he was innocent, death if he was guilty. His voice echoed off the surrounding towers. When the last echo had died away, the septon lowered his crystal and made a hasty departure. Tyrion leaned over and whispered something in Bronn’s ear before the guardsmen led him away. The sellsword rose laughing and brushed a blade of grass from his knee. Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale, was fidgeting impatiently in his elevated chair. â€Å"When are they going to fight?† he asked plaintively. Ser Vardis was helped back to his feet by one of his squires. The other brought him a triangular shield almost four feet tall, heavy oak dotted with iron studs. They strapped it to his left forearm. When Lysa’s master-at-arms offered Bronn a similar shield, the sellsword spat and waved it away. Three days growth of coarse black beard covered his jaw and cheeks, but if he did not shave it was not for want of a razor; the edge of his sword had the dangerous glimmer of steel that had been honed every day for hours, until it was too sharp to touch. Ser Vardis held out a gauntleted hand, and his squire placed a handsome double-edged longsword in his grasp. The blade was engraved with a delicate silver tracery of a mountain sky; its pommel was a falcon’s head, its crossguard fashioned into the shape of wings. â€Å"I had that sword crafted for Jon in King’s Landing,† Lysa told her guests proudly as they watched Ser Vardis try a practice cut. â€Å"He wore it whenever he sat the Iron Throne in King Robert’s place. Isn’t it a lovely thing? I thought it only fitting that our champion avenge Jon with his own blade.† The engraved silver blade was beautiful beyond a doubt, but it seemed to Catelyn that Ser Vardis might have been more comfortable with his own sword. Yet she said nothing; she was weary of futile arguments with her sister. â€Å"Make them fight!† Lord Robert called out. Ser Vardis faced the Lord of the Eyrie and lifted his sword in salute. â€Å"For the Eyrie and the Vale!† Tyrion Lannister had been seated on a balcony across the garden, flanked by his guards. It was to him that Bronn turned with a cursory salute. â€Å"They await your command,† Lady Lysa said to her lord son. â€Å"Fight!† the boy screamed, his arms trembling as they clutched at his chair. Ser Vardis swiveled, bringing up his heavy shield. Bronn turned to face him. Their swords rang together, once, twice, a testing. The sellsword backed off a step. The knight came after, holding his shield before him. He tried a slash, but Bronn jerked back, just out of reach, and the silver blade cut only air. Bronn circled to his right. Ser Vardis turned to follow, keeping his shield between them. The knight pressed forward, placing each foot carefully on the uneven ground. The sellsword gave way, a faint smile playing over his lips. Ser Vardis attacked, slashing, but Bronn leapt away from him, hopping lightly over a low, moss-covered stone. Now the sellsword circled left, away from the shield, toward the knight’s unprotected side. Ser Vardis tried a hack at his legs, but he did not have the reach. Bronn danced farther to his left. Ser Vardis turned in place. â€Å"The man is craven,† Lord Hunter declared. â€Å"Stand and fight, coward! † Other voices echoed the sentiment. Catelyn looked to Ser Rodrik. Her master-at-arms gave a curt shake of his head. â€Å"He wants to make Ser Vardis chase him. The weight of armor and shield will tire even the strongest man.† She had seen men practice at their swordplay near every day of her life, had viewed half a hundred tourneys in her time, but this was something different and deadlier: a dance where the smallest misstep meant death. And as she watched, the memory of another duel in another time came back to Catelyn Stark, as vivid as if it had been yesterday. They met in the lower bailey of Riverrun. When Brandon saw that Petyr wore only helm and breastplate and mail, he took off most of his armor. Petyr had begged her for a favor he might wear, but she had turned him away. Her lord father promised her to Brandon Stark, and so it was to him that she gave her token, a pale blue handscarf she had embroidered with the leaping trout of Riverrun. As she pressed it into his hand, she pleaded with him. â€Å"He is only a foolish boy, but I have loved him like a brother. It would grieve me to see him die.† And her betrothed looked at her with the cool grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare the boy who loved her. That fight was over almost as soon as it began. Brandon was a man grown, and he drove Littlefinger all the way across the bailey and down the water stair, raining steel on him with every step, until the boy was staggering and bleeding from a dozen wounds. â€Å"Yield!† he called, more than once, but Petyr would only shake his head and fight on, grimly. When the river was lapping at their ankles, Brandon finally ended it, with a brutal backhand cut that bit through Petyr’s rings and leather into the soft flesh below the ribs, so deep that Catelyn was certain that the wound was mortal. He looked at her as he fell and murmured â€Å"Cat† as the bright blood came flowing out between his mailed fingers. She thought she had forgotten that. That was the last time she had seen his face . . . until the day she was brought before him in King’s Landing. A fortnight passed before Littlefinger was strong enough to leave Riverrun, but her lord father forbade her to visit him in the tower where he lay abed. Lysa helped their maester nurse him; she had been softer and shyer in those days. Edmure had called on him as well, but Petyr had sent him away. Her brother had acted as Brandon’s squire at the duel, and Littlefinger would not forgive that. As soon as he was strong enough to be moved, Lord Hoster Tully sent Petyr Baelish away in a closed litter, to finish his healing on the Fingers, upon the windswept jut of rock where he’d been born. The ringing clash of steel on steel jarred Catelyn back to the present. Ser Vardis was coming hard at Bronn, driving into him with shield and sword. The sellsword scrambled backward, checking each blow, stepping lithely over rock and root, his eyes never leaving his foe. He was quicker, Catelyn saw; the knight’s silvered sword never came near to touching him, but his own ugly grey blade hacked a notch from Ser Vardis’s shoulder plate. The brief flurry of fighting ended as swiftly as it had begun when Bronn sidestepped and slid behind the statue of the weeping woman. Ser Vardis lunged at where he had been, striking a spark off the pale marble of Alyssa’s thigh. â€Å"They’re not fighting good, Mother,† the Lord of the Eyrie complained. â€Å"I want them to fight.† â€Å"They will, sweet baby,† his mother soothed him. â€Å"The sellsword can’t run all day.† Some of the lords on Lysa’s terrace were making wry jests as they refilled their wine cups, but across the garden, Tyrion Lannister’s mismatched eyes watched the champions dance as if there were nothing else in the world. Bronn came out from behind the statue hard and fast, still moving left, aiming a two-handed cut at the knight’s unshielded right side. Ser Vardis blocked, but clumsily, and the sellsword’s blade flashed upward at his head. Metal rang, and a falcon’s wing collapsed with a crunch. Ser Vardis took a half step back to brace himself, raised his shield. Oak chips flew as Bronn’s sword hacked at the wooden wall. The sellsword stepped left again, away from the shield, and caught Ser Vardis across the stomach, the razor edge of his blade leaving a bright gash when it bit into the knight’s plate. Ser Vardis drove forward off his back foot, his own silver blade descending in a savage arc. Bronn slammed it aside and danced away. The knight crashed into the weeping woman, rocking her on her plinth. Staggered, he stepped backward, his head turning this way and that as he searched for his foe. The slit visor of his helm narrowed his vision. â€Å"Behind you, ser!† Lord Hunter shouted, too late. Bronn brought his sword down with both hands, catching Ser Vardis in the elbow of his sword arm. The thin lobstered metal that protected the joint crunched. The knight grunted, turning, wrenching his weapon up. This time Bronn stood his ground. The swords flew at each other, and their steel song filled the garden and rang off the white towers of the Eyrie. â€Å"Ser Vardis is hurt,† Ser Rodrik said, his voice grave. Catelyn did not need to be told; she had eyes, she could see the bright finger of blood running along the knight’s forearm, the wetness inside the elbow joint. Every parry was a little slower and a little lower than the one before. Ser Vardis turned his side to his foe, trying to use his shield to block instead, but Bronn slid around him, quick as a cat. The sellsword seemed to be getting stronger. His cuts were leaving their marks now. Deep shiny gashes gleamed all over the knight’s armor, on his right thigh, his beaked visor, crossing on his breastplate, a long one along the front of his gorget. The moon-and-falcon rondel over Ser Vardis’s right arm was sheared clean in half, hanging by its strap. They could hear his labored breath, rattling through the air holes in his visor. Blind with arrogance as they were, even the knights and lords of the Vale could see what was happening below them, yet her sister could not. â€Å"Enough, Ser Vardis!† Lady Lysa called down. â€Å"Finish him now, my baby is growing tired.† And it must be said of Ser Vardis Egen that he was true to his lady’s command, even to the last. One moment he was reeling backward, half-crouched behind his scarred shield; the next he charged. The sudden bull rush caught Bronn off balance. Ser Vardis crashed into him and slammed the lip of his shield into the sellsword’s face. Almost, almost, Bronn lost his feet . . . he staggered back, tripped over a rock, and caught hold of the weeping woman to keep his balance. Throwing aside his shield, Ser Vardis lurched after him, using both hands to raise his sword. His right arm was blood from elbow to fingers now, yet his last desperate blow would have opened Bronn from neck to navel . . . if the sellsword had stood to receive it. But Bronn jerked back. Jon Arryn’s beautiful engraved silver sword glanced off the marble elbow of the weeping woman and snapped clean a third of the way up the blade. Bronn put his shoulder into the statue’s back. The weathered likeness of Alyssa Arryn tottered and fell with a great crash, and Ser Vardis Egen went down beneath her. Bronn was on him in a heartbeat, kicking what was left of his shattered rondel aside to expose the weak spot between arm and breastplate. Ser Vardis was lying on his side, pinned beneath the broken torso of the weeping woman. Catelyn heard the knight groan as the sellsword lifted his blade with both hands and drove it down and in with all his weight behind it, under the arm and through the ribs. Ser Vardis Egen shuddered and lay still. Silence hung over the Eyrie. Bronn yanked off his halfhelm and let it fall to the grass. His lip was smashed and bloody where the shield had caught him, and his coal-black hair was soaked with sweat. He spit out a broken tooth. â€Å"Is it over, Mother?† the Lord of the Eyrie asked. No, Catelyn wanted to tell him, it’s only now beginning. â€Å"Yes,† Lysa said glumly, her voice as cold and dead as the captain of her guard. â€Å"Can I make the little man fly now?† Across the garden, Tyrion Lannister got to his feet. â€Å"Not this little man,† he said. â€Å"This little man is going down in the turnip hoist, thank you very much.† â€Å"You presume—† Lysa began. â€Å"I presume that House Arryn remembers its own words,† the Imp said. â€Å"As High as Honor.† â€Å"You promised I could make him fly,† the Lord of the Eyrie screamed at his mother. He began to shake. Lady Lysa’s face was flushed with fury. â€Å"The gods have seen fit to proclaim him innocent, child. We have no choice but to free him.† She lifted her voice. â€Å"Guards. Take my lord of Lannister and his . . . creature here out of my sight. Escort them to the Bloody Gate and set them free. See that they have horses and supplies sufficient to reach the Trident, and make certain all their goods and weapons are returned to them. They shall need them on the high road.† â€Å"The high road,† Tyrion Lannister said. Lysa allowed herself a faint, satisfied smile. It was another sort of death sentence, Catelyn realized. Tyrion Lannister must know that as well. Yet the dwarf favored Lady Arryn with a mocking bow. â€Å"As you command, my lady,† he said. â€Å"I believe we know the way.†

Review Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words - 4

Review - Essay Example The organizational model provided by Miner also provides for evolution by providing for these three aspects of structural change in processes. Formalized job systems that are coordinated by management form the basis for replication of job activities. Variation in these processes is provided for through idiosyncratic jobs created specifically around particular people. The mechanisms in place for elimination of some processes over time is achieved in the model through managerial actions such as layoffs, budget changes and reorganization, so that some jobs are selectively retained while others which are not beneficial for further evolution of the organization are eliminated. This study is important because it demonstrates how strategic planning or organizational change and evolution requires the establishment of clear and stable goals. As a result, to some extent formalization of internal organizational processes is necessary, and this does not necessarily deter the process of evolutionary change. Since some processes within the organization are created through the process of innovation in responses to they changes in the environment, these processes must be formalized in order to ensure that useful activities are identified and preserved, so that they continue to contribute to organizational efficiency. The model proposed by the author has provided concrete mechanisms to deal with the issue of selective job retention, through the establishment of definite boundaries and providing for adaptation, while also clarifying that such adaptations are not necessarily guaranteed, because they will depend upon the environment and the feasibility of carrying them out†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦345 words 2. The article by R.M. Cantor (2003) deals with the changes in organizational pathology that occur when a distressed organization is turned around from failure and set on the

Is there such a thing as a normal sexual orientation Essay

Is there such a thing as a normal sexual orientation - Essay Example Persons attracted toward those of the opposite sex are termed as heterosexuals. Persons attracted toward both genders at the same time are called bisexuals. Person not attracted to any kind of sexual activity with neither gender is going through abstinence or asexuality. This homosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, and abstinence, is what we call sexual orientation of a person. It involves both the feelings plus the identity of the person. An individual may recognize his identity as being a homosexual, heterosexual, or bisexual, at any point of his life and this identity would be different from the gender identity or gender roles that the society assigns to an individual. This paper intends to discuss if there is such a thing in the world as normal sexual orientation. Normal Sexual Orientations Researchers suggest that being a heterosexual is normal as is being a non-heterosexual. Gays and lesbians have been identified in all ages and they live just the normal way as others. They belong to all cultures, all socio-economic statuses, and all religions. A homosexual can also feel erotically aroused by a member of the opposite sex at some times in life although he may identify himself as a gay. A heterosexual, likewise, can feel attracted toward a person of the same sex although not too often and although he claims himself to be a heterosexual. Thus, a variation in normality is seen in the behavior of individuals, and this variation cannot make the behavior abnormal. Huegel states that â€Å"Being gay is normal. Being lesbian is normal. Being bisexual is normal. Being transgender is normal. Being heterosexual is normal.† Homosexuality is a Normal Sexual Orientation Gay marriages and gay rights are issues that have been an effort toward making people consider non-heterosexual orientations as normal. The earliest known gay rights organization is the Society for Human Rights in Chicago that was established in 1924 and launched first gay rights movement. Afte r that, the Mattachine Society was established in 1951 and there have been a number of other organizations and movements till then which support gay rights. The Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) passed by Congress in 1996 protects the marriage rights of gays since there were many states which had banned gay marriages before 1996. Congress approved the law in 2010 and legalized gay marriages. When talking about gay rights, we must discuss what actually the rights that have been legalized for gays are. These include ceremonial marriages, child adoption, domestic partnership registration on public record, domestic partnership affidavit given by employers to gay employees that defines the couple’s economic relationship, health care, insurance, lawsuits, property, and the like. Hence, we see that courts and laws have been trying to make people believe that heterosexuality is normal. Abnormal Sexual Orientations However, there are some bizarre sexual orientations that are regarded as abnormal. Paraphilia Paraphilia is a sexual orientation in which a person is sexually attracted toward a non-human object, animal, or a person with whom sexual activity is not socially acceptable. The paraphilic sexual orientation is considered abnormal by all mental health organization like the American Psychiatric Association. According to the Traditional Values Coalition: The paraphilias listed in the DSM are abnormal sexual orientations toward non-human objects or individuals and include the

The western end of the Kennet and Avon canal since the early 19th century Essay Example for Free

The western end of the Kennet and Avon canal since the early 19th century Essay 1790 Prospectus: The 1790 prospectus was created to show the importance of the canal and its mandatory construction. The prospectus basically said that the journey from Bristol to London was slow and tedious and often required the same amount of time as a trip to the West Indies. There were also problems with the new French leader; Napoleon, who was using privateers in the channel to make sure that his continental system deprived Britain of trade and resources, by intercepting the British ships in hope of republicanism spreading to this part of Europe. The canal would therefore solve the problem of the long and dangerous journey. The authors of the prospectus produced it to show the importance of the canal and all of the problems that it would solve (i.e. advertising the canal). It was, maybe a chance to exaggerate the benefits of the canal and get different groups of people on their side. There were a few major groups that the prospectus was aimed at to convince and persuade them and was the main reason that the prospectus was drawn up. They said that it would speed up trade and make it quicker and cheaper to transport goods such as coal from the Somerset Coalfields, slate, corn and American goods e.g. tobacco, rum and cotton. These attractions would bring in traders and thus more trade for the canal and more money from toll payments for cargo. They used the prospectus to persuade shareholders to invest in it and use it as a business. Shareholders were enticed by the prospect of a revolutionary new idea that could give them a large dividend. This invested money would make sure that there was enough capital to build the canal and aid with other financial expenses such as labour (wages). This money would also ensure that parliament gave permission for the construction of the canal and this was important because many MPs were rich land owners at that time and the canal planners needed their permission so that the canal was able to pass through their land. Widcombe Flight: There is not a lot of evidence to support the justification for the canal as put forward in the prospectus at Wicombe Flight. In general there is more evidence to suggest trade within Britain being a major reason for the canals construction i.e. Bristol to London (Tilbury) rather than trade from America to London via Bristol e.g. barley from Bradford-on-Avon, used in the malt house on the side of the canal. The only evidence that suggests this American trade link is the Sydney Wharf warehouses which may have been used to store some American goods e.g. sugar cane and cotton, in transit to London. Its difficult to find any more good evidence because warehouses have been converted and used for different purposes such as residential homes. The atmosphere has also changed with much less trade going on and more tourists on a quiet holiday, making it harder to imagine the trade that went on in the 19th century. The canals uses have changed dramatically since the early 1800s mainly due to the introduction of new types of transport such as rail. Narrow boats are being used now for holidays and people are walking dogs along the tow-path suggesting that the canal is used less for trade and more for tourism. I saw evidence of horses being used to pull boats in the 1800s such as the tow-path, change line bridges and stables. These stables are now an architects house and show how horses are no longer Guillaume Wright 10C2 GCSE History Around Us Coursework C/W 12/5/01 used to pull boats and how businesses have profited from the spare, cheap land on the bank of the canal. The other architects house above Top lock had a large chimney and suggested that it used to be a maltsters and shows that agricultural (barley) and industrial (malt breweries) uses have declined. Warehouses have been converted into restaurants and houses showing the change from trade to leisure and residential uses. There were people fishing on the banks which suggested the canal is also directly involved with leisure and is used for tourism. This site was useful to a certain extent in understanding the 19th century canal uses because it gives evidence of old-fashioned trade and ways e.g. barley and the use of horses. It also has limitations as to its usefulness because the area gas changed so much. The whole atmosphere has changed and buildings have altered their uses. Thimble Mill is now a restaurant and wine bar and the Hilton Hotel used to be a pump house powered by steam, used to pump the 100,000 gallons of lost water flowing downhill at the locks. Its very hard to imagine all of this happening now. Sydney Gardens Print The Sydney Gardens print was made in 1812, only two years after the canal was built, and depicts a beautiful sunny day at the section of the canal that passes through Sydney Gardens in Bath. In the print, Cleveland House is not shown either because the owners of Sydney Gardens thought it degenerated the areas appeal, or because it was not relevant to the canal at the time, as it did not become the canals headquarters until 1825. There is an attractive oriental summer house included in this version, that is not there any more, so the area could gain credibility and attract the wealthier people to somewhere where they could sit in the shade so as to keep their skin white (the fashion and a necessity for people in a high-class society). A small decorative pleasure boat which would have been very rare in those days, is travelling along the canal whereas you were more likely to see coal-barges and narrow boats due to the trade industrys heavy use of the canal. There are also other small differences like the tow-path that ends at the bridge and wealthy stylish people walking along the tow-path instead of horses (to tow the boats) so as to attract people to Sydney Gardens and use the canal leisure activities. Other changes include subtle alterations in the decoration of the bridge, less foliage around the canal to give a more open atmosphere and the fact that its a sunny day to give the overall effect of a perfect venue for a visit or day-out. The print is probably bot very accurate as it changes and alters some of the main features and distorts reality for the Sydney Gardens owners profit and gain. This is and artistic impression of the area and so is only the artists portrayal of it so details may have been altered, maybe so that the artist could impress the Sydney Gardens owners and earn more money and respect. Overall, you cannot trust rely on a picture that has been changed so much and had a motive to be changed. This interpretation was probably produced because it was specially commissioned by the owners of Sydney Gardens to increase profit from tourism because Sydney Gardens was privately run and needed to make a healthy profit to keep people such as the shareholders contented. Because of this and as they didnt want the canal to be seen as an eyesore they applied conditions for the canal builders such as four ornamental bridge (costing 2,200 pounds) and the canal to be sunken down into a ditch and these features are predominant in the print so as to advertise the best parts of the canal. It was produced to show a picturesque scene, set on a calm, sunny day with a beautiful canal which was a comparison to other fashionable cities such as Venice, which improved the areas credibility, especially for the more wealthy as these would bring more money to the area. In the 1700s Bath had built up a reputation of a beautiful Georgian town for the wealthy and offered luxurious attractions such as the Guillaume Wright 10C2 GCSE History Around Us Coursework C/W 12/5/01 Roman Baths, and so Sydney Gardens wanted to attract these wealthier people to their park for a larger profit and an excellent and maintained reputation. Dundas Aqueduct The Dundas Aqueduct funded by Charles Dundas, was one of John Rennies greatest architectural achievements when he built the canal. There was a crane and a few warehouses along the canal which suggests the lifting and storing of goods such as cotton and rum from Britains West Indian trade, rather than coal because this was often transported loosely. There is very little other evidence to suggest trade from the West Indies apart from these warehouses (storing goods in transit to London) to Britain and Dundas Aqueduct mainly consists of evidence of home-based trade such as the bulge (Dundas Marina) in the canal which shows the anticipated build up of traffic along the canal as though they were expecting a lot of trade from around the area. The major piece of evidence is the entrance to the Somerset Coal canal at Dundas, which suggests that trade and goods were regularly coming in from the coalfields and transported to other areas such as London (home trade). The Kennet and Avon canal is wider than the coal canal which suggests that they expected a lot more coal and other goods from other areas to be transported along the canal as well as the Somerset coalfields produce. This 1864 print of the Dundas Aqueduct was produced from the Illustrated London News, and was probably made to show London the thriving business and beauty of the area and to impress wealthy Londoners, who provided trade for this part of the canal with trade from the West Indies (Stonegate at Dundas shows that there were toll collections for cargo). It was also to show off John Rennies architecture, maybe for his personal career in the opportunistic city of London or maybe just to impress people. It showed off its leisure qualities (fishermen), despite a the heavy industry and gave the impression that its a pleasant place to visit and so would be good for the areas economy. It may also have been to impress venture capitalists in London who might invest much-needed money into the canal for repairs and maintenance. There are reasons to believe the pictures accuracy because nothing seems to have been left out, added in or changed dramatically (unlike the Sydney Gardens print) and unattractive features such as the railway and the railway arch are included as well as industrial features such as coal barges and horses. There is a boat going into the coal canal which suggests that it was still involved in business and trade and this is accurate as the canal made a profit until 1890 (print made in 1864). There also seems to be no major motive for any deviations from reality (unlike Sydney Gardens print) and features such as the stone work, decorations and style are very much the same as they are today. Having said this, there are still doubts as to its accuracy such as the exaggeration of the beauty of the area with the impressive cliffs and forests in the background. There is a cobbled bridge (entrance to Somerset coal canal) which has now been replaced by a metal swing bridge, and it is a matter of opinion whether the cobbled bridge ever existed. It is most likely to be very accurate as the cobbles are accurate when cross-checked with other tow paths in Bath for horses that look similar. Taking into account all of these factors, in my opinion, the photograph is accurate. Devizes Museum The Devizes museum holds artefacts and displays from the working days of the Kennet and Avon canal, and it is important for historians to check the authenticity of the artefacts so that the museum can paint a realistic picture of canal life in the 19th century. Cross referencing can be useful for checking artefacts, as dates and material use can be verified with any dates on the artefact e.g. the loading gauge rods may have a date imprinted on the artefact that can be checked with the dates of when they were used and when the technology was available. Horse equipment could be checked with similar equipment from the time to check for any obvious differences or fake parts. The material that the artefact is made from could be scientifically tested and dated using a method such as carbon dating on objects such as the narrow boat rudder, although this is not a particularly accurate method. Letters and prints can be checked (e.g. photos showing scenes from the late 19th century) by verifying the scene where the photo was alleged to have been taken. They could also check the type of photograph and whether the technology existed at that time. For items such as the mock up of the canal cabin or the model of the crane, there is the possibility of verification with people who have used and experienced these artefacts or cross-check with diaries or letters from canal workers or Victorian travellers. This is the most accurate method, as long as the source is reliable. Finally, they could check the mechanics of something like the pulley to see if it works like it should do (taking into consideration the possible damage and weakening of the artefact). There are limitations to these artefacts usefulness in determining what it was like in the 19th century. For useful objects such as the narrow boat rudder and the pulley, there is likely to be a fair amount of damage, or it will be repaired or altered in order to put it on display in the museum and so its hard to imagine how it worked. Because culture and technology has changed so much, its difficult to imagine how objects such as the crane and the pulley would have been used, as the canals uses have changed so dramatically from the 19th century. Again, there are limitations for the model of the cabin as, although it shows the visual side it gives no sense of the noises, smells, cramped conditions, and the general atmosphere of trade and travel. It is also hard to obtain realism in the working models (e.g. crane and pulley) as they are likely to work too smoothly and its hard to imagine the scale and size of it. With letters such as the one from John Ward, warning about navvies, its left up to the imagination as to what it was like and sections may be exaggerated leading to a misrepresentation of the area in the 19th century. Conclusion Hypothesis: The Kennet and Avon canal was only built in order to benefit the Somerset Coal canal. For the purpose of contradicting this statement, I can say that, no where in the prospectus is the Somerset Coal canal mentioned and it suggests that the main purpose of the canal was to create an inland navigation system from Bristol to London to benefit trade from the West Indies as well as home trade, by by-passing the long, tedious and dangerous journey across the channel. In fact the prospectus was drawn up in 1790; before the Somerset Coal canal was even built (1804-5), suggesting that the Somerset Coal canal just wanted to benefit from the Kennet and Avon canal rather than the Kennet and Avon being built purposefully for the coal canal. There is no specific mention of coal among the home trade section of the prospectus and there is also the fact that we saw evidence of other types of home trade around the canal such as Hugh Bairds maltsters who used barley from places such as Bradford on Avon to make alcohol. There was also plenty of information at the Devizes museum explaining the canals use as a method of transit for West Indian goods. There are no reasons that can support this statement fully, but there is evidence of coal being transported along the canal such as the warehouses at Dundas and Sydney Gardens. This isnt true but a major result of the construction of the Kennet and Avon canal was that it was beneficial to the Somerset Coal canal, shown by the entrance at Dundas which links the canals together. Again coal is mentioned as information in the Devizes museum as a good associated with the Kennet and Avon. Overall, I think each site we visited was good at helping us understand the old uses of the Kennet and Avon canal.

gatwomen gatmyrtle Great Gatsby Essays: Similarities of Gatsby and Myrtle :: Great Gatsby Essays

Same Goal, Different Route in The Great Gatsby A more thorough investigation of The Great Gatsby is necessary to uncover a well-disguised theme by Fitzgerald in this work. Upon a simple read through one would probably not notice the great similarities of Jay Gatsby and Myrtle Wilson, but the two characters seemed to have the same agenda for their lives. While Gatsby took the route of acquiring money at all costs to join the upper class of society and to be acceptable in the eyes of a woman, Myrtle chose to make her way up in society at the cost of her marriage by attaching herself to money. The underlying question is who had the most success. As a young man, Jay Gatsby was poor with nothing but his love for Daisy. He had attempted to woe her, but a stronger attraction to money led her to marry another man. This did not stop Gatsby’s goal of winning this woman for himself though, and he decided to improve his life anyway he could until he could measure up to Daisy’s standards. He eventually gained connections in what would seem to be the wrong places, but these gave him the opportunity he needed to "get rich quick." Gatsby’s enormous desire for Daisy controlled his life to the point that he did not even question the immorality of the dealings that he involved himself in to acquire wealth. Eventually though, he was able to afford a "castle" in a location where he could pursue Daisy effectively. His life ambition had successfully moved him to the top of the "new money" class of society, but he lacked the education of how to promote his wealth properly. Despite the way that Gatsby flaunted his money, he did catch Daisy’s attention. A chaotic affair followed for a while until Daisy was overcome by pressures from Gatsby to leave her husband and by the realization that she belonged to "old money" and a more proper society. Myrtle eventually had similar goals as Gatsby, but her life did not begin the same way. She was of the lower class of society and married a simple man. The two pursued a poor life, but Myrtle’s husband George was a decent man. Nevertheless, Myrtle became unsatisfied, and when the opportunity arose to better the quality of her life, she took it. Daisy’s husband Tom, an unfaithful, rough man not very committed to his marriage, began an affair with Myrtle.

Wal-Mart Case Study

In 2005, it created jobs for more than 1. 5 million people worldwide. In the United States this number is 1. 3 million. Every year, Wall- Mart distributes 2% gross national product in US with estimated $300 billion annual sales. After nearly a half of a century, it still follows Sam Walton philosophy to provide low price for customers every day (Stank & Stank, 2009). In 2006, this organization has slipped to number two after a serious problem.This case study old show these unethical issues that Wall-Mart faced many years from 2001 to 2006, including off-the-clock work. Sexual discrimination, health benefits, union, and using illegal aliens and child labor. In 2000, the main unethical of Wall-Mart shows in this case is the â€Å"off-the-clock work† that the employees were enforced working overtime In the Wall-Mart stores. From 11 states In 2001 that was pending lawsuits against Wall-Mart the number of states had Increased even 28 after one year (Satanist & Satanist, 2009).The store managers had required the employee check UT their time card, while they were working at night and locked inside the stores. Many emergencies happened without any help because the managers were not around to open the door. These Wall-Mart activities show that this organization is breaking the law when enforced Its employees working more time without any payment while the managers went out earlier. Sexual discrimination Is another unethical Issue that Wall-Mart faced in 2001. In fact, the percentage of male employees who were promoted to management is less than female employees.According to Satanist and Stank (2009), there are sixty-five percent women employees of the hourly worker, but women who stand on management position Just only thirty-three percent at Wall-Mart. Some employee claimed that, Wall-Mart gave these Job opportunities to men because the men had to feed their family, whereas women Just want to make some extra money (Stank & Stank, 2009). There are clearly things that Wall-Mart were not fair with women who daily worked for this organization. This activity should be considered and adjusted to fit with the new situation.Wall-Mart was blamed that provided many policies reduce cost of health care. This corporation provided the health benefit programs for its employee, but somehow many employees cannot pay or payable but less benefit. Normally, all companies In the united States spend average $ 5,646 per user for health care than the average rate (Satanist & Satanist, 2009). This is considered unethical issue in Wall-Mart when this organization is largest retailer in the world. In addition, Wall- Mart has used states health benefits program to instead its own payment; it was not responsible action of a big corporation.Many employees and their family could not allow Wall-Mart's health care program, they return to Medicaid – a state's health care program. Marshland's law stated that the company had to pay at least 8 percent of payroll costs per user health insurance, nor the difference amount actual pair and percentage must be passed to Marshland's Medicaid fund (Satanist & Satanist, 2009). Wall-Mart had changed its health care policy and reported increasing the percentage up to 8 percent, however, only 47. 5% employees can approach Wall-Mart's health care insurance (Satanist & Satanist, 2009).Keep the labor cost as low as possible seem tick with its philosophy â€Å"everyday low prices† because if the labor cost increase that means this philosophy would no longer right. That also was the problem that Wall- Mart faced in globalization. That is why Wall-Mart disbanded the meat department and nearly 180 other stores when the employees became unionized (Satanist & Satanist, 2009). In fact, if employees become a member of a union, they would get a lot of support from this community to fight for their right benefits.However, Wall-Mart had to allow unions in protected of China government because if they not allow they old lose a lot of resources such as: material, merchandise, low labor cost, and series of suppliers, etc. Other issues at Wall-Mart stores are using illegal aliens working for the company. Although Wall-Mart knows exactly if it uses these employees they are against the law. However, Wall-Mart has continued to hire illegal aliens from the outside employment agency for cleaning. This company has agreed to charge for this issue $11 million, four times higher than normal charge by another corporation (Satanist & Satanist, 2009).Wall-Mart used child labors and violated child labor laws. The result of the audit showed that Wall-Mart used employees under eighteen years old for working at night, on school hour, and more than 8 hours per day (Satanist & Satanist, 2009). Not at all, this company also used child labor in the dangerous Job such as: chain saw and cardboard balers. Once again, Wall-Mart has broken the law in many states. In 2005, the International Labor Rights Fund filed a lawsu it against Wall-Mart with series of violating labor laws in five countries: Swaziland, Indonesia, China, Bangladesh, and Nicaragua (Satanist & Satanist, 2009).The violations include irking overtime without payment, preventing any effort to have a union, and locked in working time. The major reason that making Wall-Mart supplier broken the laws is Wall-Mart was not enforcing the company's code of conduct with its suppliers (Satanist & Satanist, 2009). After a series of unethical issues during few years, Wall- Mart shows that it is still the big company where it provided the cooperation to repair and troubleshoot its problems quickly. Wall-Mart has acknowledged its issues and step-by-step solve them making ethical decisions, changing management methods, ND charging for all people who directly impacted.In conclusion, responsibilities of the big corporation should always do the right thing, and fixes every issue ethically to making the better reputation. The discuss questions that more clearly about this case study: 1 . Are the ethical issues Wall-Mart faces really any different from other large retailers? The largest retailer faces this these ethical issues that means many target for any concern and naturally the ethical issues become a sensitive problem. In additional, Wall-Mart cannot hire its problem, because of million employees who irking on thousands of stores.Wall-Mart might be a good case study for other corporations who are facing ethical issues. 2. Wall-Mart officials have stated that they don't feel women are interested in management positions at the company. Do you agree or disagree? I disagree with this point of Wall-Mart. Women are much more holding the key position in the company. It shows a fact that women also do the same things as much as men can do. I do not see any reason to reject the opportunity to offer the management positions of women at work. The world is changing, women as no longer Just take care their family, they also are great peopl e in the business. . Wall-Mart is continually criticized for its health-care policy. Is this really an ethical issue? Why or why not? This is considered unethical issue in Wall-Mart because the health cares that Wall-Mart provides to their employees are not fitted with a world- class company. In additional, Wall-Mart has used states health benefits program to instead its own payment; it was not responsible action off big corporation. Many employees and their family could not follow Wall-Mart's health care program, they turn to Medicaid – a state's health care program.Billion of revenue that the company could get is based on its employee's distribution. Pay more money for health care also kind of investment, and I guessed that the return of this is greater than the profit, including loyalty, employees' effort, and good company's image. 4. Should Wall-Mart be concerned about unionization of stores since allowing unionization of workers in China? The major reason the make Wall-M art allow unionizing in China not start from its expectation. However, this is a good signal for a ewe revolution in many Wall-Mart stores worldwide.In America, if any store starts to form a union the store could face many problems from Wall-Mart managers. This would change because of no former union are not fair for United States employees. The union would keep fighting the employee's right benefit. On the other hand, my opinion, United States government should protect the union like China government that also protects the American labors. Reference Satanist, P. A. , & Satanist, S. D. (2009). Understanding business ethics (1st deed. ). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall.