A long time ago, when humans still lived in cities, on a cold morning near the end of a long, cruel winter, in magnificent Central Park in the middle of magnificent New York City, a young squirrel named Patch was awakened very early by the growls of his empty stomach. A squirrel's home is called a drey. Patch's drey was very comfortable. He lived high up an old oak tree, in a hollowed-out stump of a big branch that had long ago been cut off by humans. The entrance was only just big enough for Patch to squeeze in and out, but the drey itself was spacious, for a squirrel. Patch had lined his drey with dry leaves, grasses and bits of newspaper. It was warm and dry, and on that cold morning he would have liked nothing better than to stay home all day and sleep. But he was so hungry. Hunger filled him like water fills a glass. The cherry and maple trees had not yet started to bud; flowers had not yet begun to grow; the juicy grubs and bugs of spring had not yet emerged; and it had been two days since Patch had found a nut. Imagine how hungry you would feel if you went two whole days without eating, and you may have some idea how Patch felt that morning. Patch poked his head out of the drey into the cold air and shivered as he looked around. Clumps of white, crumbly ice still clung to the ground. Gusts of cold wind shook and rustled the trees' bare branches. The pale and distant sun seemed drained of heat. Patch took a moment to satisfy himself that there were no dangers nearby, no hawk circling above or unleashed dog below. Then he emerged from his drey and began to look for acorns. But what marvels, what miracles, what mysteries are hidden inside those simple words! What is in Patch's home? - not enough information - wet things - dry materials - nothing
dry materials

Before we got married my husband and I lived in 4 different apartments all within the span of one year. The worst one of all of them was actually a great apartment, but our upstairs neighbors drove us positively insane. A list of their common antics: Blasting movies/music with the bass turned all the way up into the small hours of the morning, in their bedroom, which was directly above our bedroom Stomping, all day, every day, no matter what, always stomping. Sometimes running full speed around their apartment. It was a 1 bedroom and they had at least 4 adults (two couples) and at least 2 kids living there. They also always had company over. It was a nonsmoking complex but they smoked on their porch and tossed their butts over their balcony, which would leave them landing in our little porch. Constantly came out to find butts and trash in our potted plants and all over the ground. We had to call the sheriff on them once because one of the couples living there got in a very loud, very obvious domestic violence situation. We heard them screaming and throwing each other around. At one point the man smashed her head through the wall. The kicker was when they brought home one of those mini motorcycles and put it out on their porch. Their porch was made of slatted wood so there were gaps between the boards. The damn bike started leaking fuel (racing fuel no less) through the slats and on our porch (and all over our stuff). Ruined a table, some laundry I had air-drying out there and killed a few of our plants. Not only that but while this was happening they were throwing their butts down onto our porch too. Could have started a fire. Then there was the spitting. They would spit over the edge of their balcony and we complained so they started spitting THROUGH the floor boards so it was definitely intentional. I have never experienced a more trashy group of people. So glad to be out of that apartment and away from them now. What did the tenant find on her porch that the neighbors upstairs were responsible for? - spit - not enough information - cigarette butts and trash - racing gasoline
racing gasoline

One day after a mass shooting killed 49 people at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump reiterated his support for a plan to temporarily ban Muslims from entering the United States. At a campaign rally in New Hampshire Monday, Trump promised his supporters that, if elected, he would use the executive powers to "suspend immigration from areas of the world where there is a proven history of terrorism against the United States, Europe or our allies, until we fully understand how to end these threats." Although the suspected Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen, was an American citizen, Trump suggested immigrants from the Middle East can come to the U.S. and radicalize people who are already here, or work to convince them online. "The media talks about homegrown terrorism," Trump said. "But Islamic radicalism ... and the networks that nurture it are imports from overseas whether you like it or don't like it." Refugees and immigrants from conflict ridden Middle Eastern countries like Syria, Iraq and Libya could "be a better, bigger more horrible version than the legendary Trojan horse ever was," Trump said. But a recent Brookings Institution survey found Americans are far more welcoming of refugees than the billionaire candidate. Of those surveyed, 59 percent support accepting refugees, while 41 percent oppose it. Those views are split right down party lines, with just 38 percent of Republicans supporting taking in refugees from Syria and the Middle East, compared to 77 percent of Democrats. But among Trump supporters, an overwhelming 77 percent said they oppose taking in refugees. The Obama administration has set a goal of admitting as many as 10,000 Syrian refugees to the United States by the fall.Respondents of the surveys also were sharply divided on whether they would be willing to accept refugees from Syria in particular, with 61 percent of Republicans saying the U.S. should not accept Syrian refugees, compared to 27 percent of Democrats. Trump supporters again... When did Trump promise a ban on Muslims? - After the Orlando shooting - At a rally on Monday - When he is elected - not enough information
At a rally on Monday

Pirate gold. Coins, rings, ingots. Necklaces of emeralds and opals and sapphires. Chalices, bracelets, daggers inlaid with diamonds and lapis and ivory. Malone rolled over in the soft hotel bed. Not just gold but the things it would buy. A two-story house of brick and wrought iron. Greek columns in front and coaches parked in the drive. Built high on the center of Galveston Island, away from the deadly storms of the Gulf, away from the noise and stink of the port. White servants and negro slaves. Fair-haired women to sit at the piano in his parlor. Dark-skinned women to open their legs to him in the secrecy of the night... He sat up in a sweat. I will think no evil thoughts, he told himself. Outside, the sun rose over New Orleans. Horse-drawn carts creaked and rattled through the streets, and chickens complained about the light. The smell of the Mississippi, damp and sexual, floated through the open window. Malone got up and put a robe on over his nightshirt, despite the heat. He turned up the gas lamp over the desk, took out pen, ink and paper, and began to write. 'My dearest Becky...' * He smelled the French Market before he saw it, a mixture of decayed fruit, coffee, and leather. He crossed Decatur Street to avoid a side of beef hung over the sidewalk, swarming with flies. Voices shouted in a dozen different languages. All manner of decrepit wooden carts stood on the street, their contents passed from hand to hand until they disappeared under the yellow canvas awnings of the market. Beyond the levee Malone could see the tops of the masts of the tall ships that moved toward the Governor Nicholl's Street Wharf. What's something Malone thinks to buy? - White servants - A new chair - A Porsche - not enough information
White servants