*Question*
Went straight from a facility that deals with homeless children (492 1st Ave, Manhattan, New York) to the extreme outskirts of Queens near Kennedy Airport about 20 miles away. It was winter and I had no coat. I had my book bag and my sole Trader Joe's bag of clothing and was loaded into a van with three social workers. During the long drive in traffic, I fell asleep, so waking up at my new home, I couldn't make out any street signs and the numbering on the houses did not indicate whether I was in a home in the Bronx or Eastern Queens (which share the same street numbering in certain instances). My foster parents showed me my room and left a plate of food on the table. They barricaded themselves in their bedroom quite like how pilots barricade themselves behind the fortified cockpit door. However, my room didn't have a lock, and neither did the bathroom. There were bars on my windows with a view of a church parking lot. I took great care to avoid waking a significantly older teen (I was 14, so he must have been 1920) sleeping on the other bed. I heard two other kids (my foster siblings) in the other room playing music and giggling loudly at 3 in the morning. At 4 in the morning, my foster father started reading the Quran pretty loudly, and then he goes back to bed. In the morning, my foster parents are gone. My foster siblings are all sleeping. I got up at 7, but I don't know how far I am from my high school, what buses/train will take me there, and still don't know anything about anything about my new home. I don't even know the names of those I'm relegated to living with. The unnerving strangeness and disorientation hat comes with knowing that your life has changed and the culture shock that comes with that is so scary and desensitizes you on that first day. What is probably true about the author? - He was cold - not enough information - He was on vacation - He had a tan
**Answer**
He was cold

*Question*
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. How long was the trial - most of a day - several days - not enough information - part of an hour
**Answer**
most of a day

*Question*
I have been the brunt of cruelty from a doctor a number of times but I will relate one that has always stayed with me since I was a child. I was approximately 8 years and it happened to be summer. Baseball was a true love and my brothers and friends played daily. In the summer, all we wore were cut off jeans and nothing else. I had stepped on a rusty nail and it became infected. Time for a Tetanus shot! This was a typical occurrence for us during the summer. There was only one doctor within a one hundred square mile area and his name was Doctor Brandenbury. He was a very unpleasant, elderly man that my brothers and I did not care for since he was just a mean, old bastard. So I am shuffled off to his office and of course after hearing what had a occurred and examining my foot agreed I needed the Tetanus shot. I make a very innocent request as he is about to give me the shot. Since I knew the shot would stiffen my arm and essentially cause pain I would take it in my left arm so my throwing arm would not be affected. I tried to request this from the doctor but he did not wish to hear anything from me. He said "I don't give a fuck what arm you get it in." He grabbed me roughly by the right arm and used the needle like a dart and just slammed it into my arm. I had never had a problem with shots before but that REALLY hurt. I started crying. He instructed my mother "To get me the Hell out of his office." Needless to say my mother never took any of us to see this old, miserable bastard again. She found another doctor that actually treated us like we were human. how old is Doctor Brandenbury? - not enough information - 80 - 75 - 85
**Answer**
not enough information

*Question*
Normal practice when handling ancient artifacts is to move carefully and minimize any sudden movements. Shaking the object is definitely not encouraged. But that's exactly what wea group of museum curators and conservatorsdid when this exquisite Greek black-glazed kantharos (wine cup) was temporarily removed from display during the reinstallation of the Getty Museum's antiquities collection at the Getty Villa. One of just a handful of "rattling cups" that survive from the fifth and fourth centuries B.C., we wanted to learn more about how it was made.(1) Although we were eager to find out what was below the surface of the cup, we started by examining its exterior. The kantharos's distinctive shape, with profiled lip, tall foot, and elegant, upward-sweeping handles, is characteristic of black-glazed pottery made in the second half of the fourth century B.C., and replicates the form of luxury vessels in metal. Although the cup is currently catalogued as South Italian, the shapeand its striking decorationare also typical of Athenian manufacture, and it may in fact have been produced there.(2) During the fourth century B.C., Athenian pottery was both imported into southern Italy and imitated by local craftsmen. The best South Italian versions were meant to be difficult to distinguish from Athenian examples, and we are continuing to investigate where ours may have been made. A Greek inscription applied in gilt around the rim reads: ("KASTORPOLYDEUIKES"). Kastor and Polydeukes were twin sons of Zeusknown together as the Dioskouroiand were worshipped as protectors of sailors, horsemen, and chariot racing.(3) The inscription indicates that the kantharos was dedicated to them, perhaps as thanks foror in hope ofsafe passage at sea or a successful race. The gold decoration supports this idea: because each brother split his time between Mt. Olympus and Hades, they were often represented by stars, depicted here beneath the cup's rim. Further, the wreath, garlands, and bucrania (skulls of... Curators examined the cup: - not enough information - after removing it from the exhibit. - in the fourth century B.C. - while it was in the exhibit.
**Answer**
after removing it from the exhibit.