Yes. 20 years ago. When I was a lot younger. I was victimised by a gang of bent police men, who arrested me and set me up to get charged with something that I did not do which I believe was connected to other criminals who live in my area, who I believe were connected to a gang of DJ's who were involved stealing intellectual and copyright works from me (likely their party organisers and drug dealer buddies). I was sent to court and found guilty based on no evidence by a magistrate court judge who was later struck off for corruption after defrauding an old lady of over a million pounds! I was not put in prison for this minor offense but did receive a minor criminal record. This criminal records the same DJ's and bent ex-police have used to ruin my reputation and career. One of the bent policemen, who incidentally had already been thrown out of the police force for car insurance fraud, even turned up at the uni I went to and spread vicious slander to ruin me there, and in the area that I lived at the time. I was then victimised by the people at the famous college that I went to and all my intellectual and copyright works stolen. Which I note, generated millions for others. Once they made their money and gained credibility on the back of my hard work, innovation and some may say genius, the thieves then did all they could to ruin my reputation in the entertainment industry and in the area that I live. Making my life extremely hard for no more reason than having my work stolen. If I wasn't so tough, and for a few people left who have at least some integrity, I would be dead now, like the rest of their victims. I have lost respect for quite a few people who I used to think were really talented. I now understand where there talent comes from Shame on them. Question: When was the author first sent to court? Options: A. after being victimized and arrested B. after a traffic violation C. not enough information D. only after being arrested === The correct answer is
A

I really struggle to feel bad for people who actively choose to be miserable and manipulative. I'm dorky and like to use little proverbs all the time. One of my favorites is this: "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." At the end of the day, if someone has a problem, they can never resolve it if they don't truly wish to. You can give someone all the resources in the world, but you can't force them to utilize them. When I was 16, I dated a horrible guy. He was abusive verbally, emotionally, and sexually. He was an incredibly troubled young man and refused to seek help for his severe mental health issues. I eventually came to understand that he reveled in his misery. It was his identity. He acted like he wanted a cure and I'd set him up with resources, but he refused every single one. He may have struggled with serious mental illnesses, but being miserable perversely made him happy and he loved to use his struggles to justify his inexcusable behavior. He wanted to drag as many people into his fiery pit of anguish as possible. I later suffered from severe depression myself, and I never once used it as an excuse to hurt other people. My ex wasn't struggling with his mental health in terms of deliberating and carefully harming others. He was simply exhibiting a personality trait, one he chose to cultivate and it wasn't my problem. I ended up cutting him off completely in spite of all the threats. I will never feel bad for the awful plight he refuses to help himself out of. I have no patience for that type of person. Know what we call them? Toxic. Poison. A waste of time. Question: What did she love most about her abusive boyfriend Options: A. His shoes B. not enough information C. His glasses D. His smile === The correct answer is
B

Q: My daughter was away at college preparing for her final exams and nursing boards. I knew that my daughter's cat, who has been part of our family since my daughter was in second grade, was dying of a fast growing cancer. I couldn't tell my daughter because I didn't want to upset her and take her mind off her studies and impending graduation. Once our Vet determined that there was nothing further that could be done she showed me how to give pain meds and fluids at home to keep her comfortable in hopes that she would live long enough to allow my daughter to say goodbye after her graduation. The entire week I stayed with our cat around the clock. She had completely stopped eating and drinking and was slowly dying before my eyes. She slept most of the time except when I had to put the needle in between her shoulder blades to give her fluids. Then she would cry quietly and look at me with pleading eyes. Her breathing was becoming so shallow that I had to get close to her and listen to see if she was still alive. After a week of this I began to realize that the most unselfish thing I could do for this beautiful creature was to let her go. I wrapped her in her favorite blanket and and drove her to our Vets office after they had closed for the day. She was so skinny and frail but when I held her close she still purred. I thanked her for the 14 years she had been one of my daughter's closest companions and I held her as she took her last breath. I was afraid my daughter was going to be angry with me when I told her that i made the decision with out giving her time to say goodbye. She was sad but understood that I did the kindest thing I could have done for her kitty. Question: Who cared for the cat after its illness? Options: A. The vet and daughter. B. not enough information C. The vet and mother. D. The mother and daughter. === The correct answer is
A: C

(Q).
It was a dream, then a place, then a memory. My father built it near the Suwannee River. I like to think it was in the heart of Florida, because it was, and is, in my heart. Its name was Dogland. Some people say you can know others if you know the central incidents that shaped their lives. But an incident is an island in time, and to know the effect of the island on those who land there, you must know something about the river they have traveled. And I must warn you before we begin, I don't know that river well. I visit that time and place like a ghost with poor vision and little memory. I look up the river and see fog rolling in. I look down the river, and the brightness of the approaching day blinds me. I see shapes moving behind me and beyond me, but who they are and what they do, I cannot say. I will tell what I know is true, and I will invent what I believe is true, and that, I think, is all you can ask any storyteller to do. I learned the Nix family history from the stories Pa told. Even at the age of four, I suspected that Pa's stories might not be perfectly true. When Pa said we Nixes came to North America as indentured servants working our way out of debtor's prison, Grandma Bette would make a face and say he couldn't know that. When he said we Nixes had Lakota and Ojibwe blood in our veins, Grandma Bette would say she wasn't prejudiced, but it simply wasn't so: she and Pa and his brothers and sisters were dark because her people were Black Dutch, from a part of Holland where everyone had black hair and black eyes. And then Grandma Bette wouldn't say a word for half an hour or more, a very long time for Grandma Bette to be quiet. Question: What is true about the narrator? Options: A. not enough information B. He/she has Lakota Blood C. He/she does not have Lakota Blood D. He/she is an indentured servant === The correct answer is
(A).
B