Crude Senior Quotes

Where I lived at Pencey, I lived in the Ossenburger Memorial Wing of the new dorms. It was only for juniors and seniors. I was a junior. My roommate was a senior. It was named after this guy Ossenburger that went to Pencey. He made a pot of dough in the undertaking business after he got out of Pencey. What he did, he started these undertaking parlors all over the country that you could get members of your family buried for about five bucks apiece. You should see old Ossenburger. He probably just shoves them in a sack and dumps them in the river. Anyway, he gave Pencey a pile of dough, and they named our wing alter him. The first football game of the year, he came up to school in this big goddam Cadillac, and we all had to stand up in the grandstand and give him a locomotive—that's a cheer. Then, the next morning, in chapel, he made a speech that lasted about ten hours. He started off with about fifty corny jokes, just to show us what a regular guy he was. Very big deal. Then he started telling us how he was never ashamed, when he was in some kind of trouble or something, to get right down his knees and pray to God. He told us we should always pray to God—talk to Him and all—wherever we were. He told us we ought to think of Jesus as our buddy and all. He said he talked to Jesus all the time. Even when he was driving his car. That killed me. I can just see the big phony bastard shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs. The only good part of his speech was right in the middle of it. He was telling us all about what a swell guy he was, what a hotshot and all, then all of a sudden this guy sitting in the row in front of me, Edgar Marsalla, laid this terrific fart. It was a very crude thing to do, in chapel and all, but it was also quite amusing. Old Marsalla. He damn near blew the roof off. Hardly anybody laughed out loud, and old Ossenburger made out like he didn't even hear it, but old Thurmer, the headmaster, was sitting right next to him on the rostrum and all, and you could tell he heard it. Boy, was he sore. He didn't say anything then, but the next night he made us have compulsory study hall in the academic building and he came up and made a speech. He said that the boy that had created the disturbance in chapel wasn't fit to go to Pencey. We tried to get old Marsalla to rip off another one, right while old Thurmer was making his speech, but be wasn't in the right mood.

In the light of the evidence it is hard to believe that most crusaders were motivated by crude materialism. Given their knowledge and expectations and the economic climate in which they lived, the disposal of assets to invest in the fairly remote possibility of settlement in the East would have been a stupid gamble. It makes much more sense to suppose, in so far as one can generalize about them, that they were moved by an idealism which must have inspired not only them but their families. Parents, brothers and sisters, wives and children had to face a long absence and must have worried about them: in 1098 Countess Ida of Boulogne made an endowment to the abbey of St Bertin 'for the safety of her sons, Godfrey and Baldwin, who have gone to Jerusalem'.83 And they and more distant relatives — cousins, uncles and nephews - were prepared to endow them out of the patrimonial lands. I have already stressed that no one can treat the phenomenal growth of monasticism in this period without taking into account not only those who entered the communities to be professed, but also the lay men and women who were prepared to endow new religious houses with lands and rents. The same is true of the crusading movement. Behind many crusaders stood a large body of men and women who were prepared to sacrifice interest to help them go. It is hard to avoid concluding that they were fired by the opportunity presented to a relative not only of making a penitential pilgrimage to Jerusalem but also of fighting in a holy cause. For almost a century great lords, castellans and knights had been subjected to abuse by the Church. Wilting under the torrent of invective and responding to the attempts of churchmen to reform their way of life in terms they could understand, they had become perceptibly more pious. Now they were presented by a pope who knew them intimately with the chance of performing a meritorious act which exactly fitted their upbringing and devotional needs and they seized it eagerly. But they responded, of course, in their own way. They were not theologians and were bound to react in ways consonant with their own ideas of right and wrong, ideas that did not always respond to those of senior churchmen. The emphasis that Urban had put on charity - love of Christian brothers under the heel of Islam, love of Christ whose land was subject to the Muslim yoke - could not but arouse in their minds analogies with their own kin and their own lords' patrimonies, and remind them of their obligations to avenge injuries to their relatives and lords. And that put the crusade on the level of a vendetta. Their leaders, writing to Urban in September 1098, informed him that 'The Turks, who inflicted much dishonour on Our Lord Jesus Christ, have been taken and killed and we Jerusalemites have avenged the injury to the supreme God Jesus Christ.

Berlin, April 22, 1945. That afternoon, with the Soviet front lines just a few miles away, the Führer held a final conference with his most senior generals. It would be the last time many would see Hitler alive. The news he relayed was, for the first time, stripped of all fantasy and optimism. The Reich was almost at an end. Berlin would be encircled in a matter of hours. Defeat was inevitable. But it was not Hitler's fault. Then began a wild stream of invective and crude abuse. His generals, his people, and his soldiers had failed him.

Anise Dinos.” “What?” “Anise Dinos,” Hadjar repeated. “That’s the name of the former senior heiress of the Predatory Blades clan.” “What about her?” Orune chewed on a bone. “Did she refuse to fuck you and now you’re suffering? Or did she fuck you so well that you can’t forget it?” Hadjar smiled. Now that he’d gotten used to it, Orune’s rudeness was somewhat pleasant, like a cold shower after a hard day’s work. It brought him back to reality, which was sometimes as crude as the great swordsman himself. “Neither.” Orune froze for a moment with the bone between his teeth. “Do you prefer boys?” “I don’t.

Anise Dinos.” “What?” “Anise Dinos,” Hadjar repeated. “That’s the name of the former senior heiress of the Predatory Blades clan.” “What about her?” Orune chewed on a bone. “Did she refuse to fuck you and now you’re suffering? Or did she fuck you so well that you can’t forget it?” Hadjar smiled. Now that he’d gotten used to it, Orune’s rudeness was somewhat pleasant, like a cold shower after a hard day’s work. It brought him back to reality, which was sometimes as crude as the great swordsman himself. “Neither.” Orune froze for a moment with the bone between his teeth. “Do you prefer boys?” “I don’t.” “How can it be neither, then? Look, I have a New Creek Pill if you need it… Hadjar choked on his food. A New Creek Pill was worth a dozen of the Leafy Peace Pills, because a New Creek Pill couldn’t be recreated by any alchemist in the seven Empires. They could only be bought in the Dragon Lands, which meant that ordinary citizens believed they could only be found in ancient tombs. It was rumored that a New Creek Pill was able to regrow the lost limbs of cultivators, even ones at the Nameless level. “Thank you, but I still have all my… appendages.” “Great!” Orune exhaled in relief. “A eunuch disciple would’ve been awfully embarrassing. My forefathers would’ve laughed at me!

Senior executives inside IBP realized that raising cattle was a waste of money. So at Garden City, IBP employed a new way to procure a steady stream of cows. It was called the “formula contract.” The formula contract created a way for IBP to lock in a steady supply of cattle without having to go out on the open market and haggle for them, as meatpackers always had. Instead, IBP signed contracts with a rancher or feedlot, agreeing to buy a set number of cattle at a set date.3 The price for those cattle, when they were delivered, was based on a formula rather than a competitive bid. IBP created a formula price that allowed the company to start controlling its cattle supply in a way that mimicked Tyson’s methods for controlling its chicken supply. IBP couldn’t simply dictate what kind of animals it slaughtered, the way Tyson did, but it could use contracts to exert influence over the ranches. IBP’s formula contained a series of discounts and premiums that rewarded some qualities in the cow while punishing others. These discounts were crude levels that IBP used to shape the kind of cattle ranchers raised. Early on, for example, IBP controlled the size of the cows ranchers delivered by discounting those that were too big and those that were too small. The formula acted as a market incentive all its own, slowly bending the characteristics of the cattle herd to IBP’s specifications. It was still a long way from the exacting control Tyson had over its chicken flocks, but the formulas would evolve over the decades.

Around a hundred Texans faced 3,000 Mexican Government troops. According to the account that long filled patriotic Americans’ schoolbooks, Crockett died a hero defiantly swinging the butt of his rifle, Old Betsy, at oncoming Mexicans after running out of ammunition. A Different Story Surfaces In 1975, a previously untranslated diary written by José Enrique de la Peña, senior Mexican officer at the battle, revealed that Crockett and six other survivors had actually surrendered. According to this account, they were executed shortly afterwards. The revelation did not come without controversy. Historians still dispute whether the diary is genuine, pointing to the unclear circumstances of its emergence in the mid-1950s in Mexico, just at the height of Disney’s fictionalisation of Crockett’s story across the border in the United States. Advocates cite a supporting pamphlet that was lodged in the archives of Yale University long before the Crockett fad began, which they suggest point to the diary being genuine. A crude Mexican attempt at Party pooping? Or bursting the bubble of a fabled tale? The truth may never be known, but the episode once more demonstrates Oscar Wilde’s observation of the truth being rarely pure and never simple.

In 1956, Prof. Vladimir Porfir’yev, the USSRs senior petroleum geologist, told a Moscow conference on petroleum geology, “The overwhelming preponderance of geological evidence compels the conclusion that crude oil and natural petroleum gas have no intrinsic connection with biological matter originating near the surface of the Earth. They are primordial materials which have been erupted from great depths.

It’s difficult for outsiders to even understand the nature of a contango market. In essence, the price of oil in spot markets, which reflect the price of oil today, tends to be lower than the price of oil to be delivered in the future. This is attributable to a host of complex reasons.I In the relatively rare scenario when oil today is cheaper than oil in the future, the markets are said to be in contango, and it doesn’t tend to last very long. Usually the market reverts to its normal state of cheaper oil in the future. When the market goes into contango, it presents a whole host of ways for Koch’s traders to profit. In late 2008, the potential profits were extraordinary. The size of the contango became enormous—the gap between oil sold today and oil sold for delivery a few months out became roughly $8 a barrel. A more common level of contango would be in the range of $2 or $4 a barrel. And the gap wasn’t just wide, it was long-lasting. The markets remained in contango for several months. Koch Industries, and a handful of other giant oil producers, were able to exploit this gap in a special way. Because Koch Industries traded in both the futures markets and the physical markets, it could execute something called the “contango storage play.” One former senior trader within Koch Supply & Trading called the contango storage play a “bread-and-butter” strategy for Koch’s crude oil department. The mechanics of the contango storage play seem deceptively simple. A trader at Koch Industries buys oil in the spot markets, where it is cheap. Then, the trader sells oil for delivery in the futures markets, where oil is more expensive. When the contango gap is $8, it is easy to picture how quickly the profits pile up. The trader can buy oil for $35 and sell it for $43, almost instantly. There is a catch, however. To execute the contango storage play, the trader must be able to do something that most traders can’t do—they must be able to deliver the actual, physical oil in that future month. If a typical oil speculator—who did not own an oil refinery, storage tanks, or an oil tanker ship—tried to execute the contango storage trade, they could find themselves shut out. Executing the contango storage trade didn’t just require deep knowledge of arcane shipping markets and transportation law; it also required deep relationships in the private world of oil production.

In 1956 the senior petroleum exploration geologist for the USSR said, The overwhelming preponderance of geological evidence compels the conclusion that crude oil and natural petroleum gas have no intrinsic connection with biological matter originating near the surface of the Earth. They are primordial materials which have been erupted from great depths. But few people listened to those words. Raymond Learsy, in his 2005 book Over a Barrel, wrote, Nothing lasts: not fame, fortune, beauty, love, power, youth, or life itself. Scarcity rules. Accordingly, scarcity—or more accurately, the perception of scarcity—spells opportunity for manipulators. The best example of this is OPEC, which continues to extract obscene profits from a scarcity of its own creation. Learsy, though, leaves no doubt. He, and many others, the Russians included, are absolutely convinced. Oil is not scarce. We only fear that it is.

It is quite clear that if left alone, babies will make attempts at speech. These attempts, however, show their own inclinations to utter something, and do not follow any existing form of language. It is almost equally clear that if a community of children were left out of contact with the language of their seniors through the critical speech-forming years, they would emerge with something, which crude as it might be, would be unmistakably a language.