Homelessness and Vagabond Essay

Vagabonds are normally despised by the society. What happens when they are treated like an ordinary respectable human being is the main theme of this story. Introduction: The vagabond who is often chased by people is welcomed by an old man. In spite of the good nature of the old man the vagabond robs him. He later returns the money due to the good deeds and kind nature of a young lady. Summary: The vagabond sold self made rattraps. He made the rattraps with wire which he got by begging in the stores or big farms. At times he used to beg and steal, he had a philosophy of his own the entire world was a sort of rattrap. People were lured by the various pleasures of life just as a rat is attracted by cheese or pork. One day he met an old man as he was seeking shelter for the night. He was given hot porridge, tobacco to smoke and they even played cards. The old man showed the vagabond his money pouch and the three ten kroner notes. He slept that at the old man’s house and the next day he left the house with the three notes. He wandered into the forest for fear being caught for his thievery. He lost his way and finally stumbled into Ramsjo Ironworks in search of warmth and shelter. The owner of the Ironworks mistakes him to be an old friend and took him home. The vagabond played along but later requested to go back to the warmth of the forge. The Ironmaster sent his daughter to bring him back. The gentle and kind nature of the young lady made him follow her. Once he cleaned and shaved, the Ironmaster realized that he was a stranger. He asked the vagabond to leave his house but his daughter wanted him to stay. He ate and slept the entire day. On Christmas Eve the Ironmaster and his daughter went to church. At the church they heard that a vagabond had stolen money from an old man who had worked as crofter at Ramsjo Ironworks. The young lady became very sad and the Ironmaster was sure that all his silver spoons would have disappeared. On their return the valet said that the vagabond had left and he did not take anything along with him. On the contrary he left a small gift for the young lady. The vagabond had returned the stolen money along with a rattrap as a gift to the young lady. He wrote a note thanking her for her kindness and asked her to return the money back to the old man. The money was like bait that drew him to it and he would have been like a rat who got caught in the trap called ‘love of money’. Conclusion: The author has very well brought the condition of the vagabond. It is important to treat them as human beings and maybe a little love and affection can work wonders in transforming them into honest and sociable people.

Is Graffiti an Art? Essay

It is a debate, which is increasingly appearing in today’s society and being discussed with escalating intensity. The topic is graffiti and the debate is whether it should be seen as and art form. Many individuals will argue that it is not art and that it is uninspired vandalism. However these people do not understand the true meaning of graffiti, and what it means to be a graffiti artist. It is costing Auckland ratepayers 5 million dollars this year to fight a losing battle against graffiti in the streets. If people take the time to appreciate graffiti and the artists it is a battle that will not have to be fought. The facts, figures and benefits of recognising graffiti as an art form and taking action to encourage legal graffiti vastly outweigh the disastrous effects of not doing so. Firstly it is of utmost significance to outline what graffiti is and is not the reason being that the majority of people are oblivious to the difference, viewing any indecent scrawl on public or private property as graffiti and an illegal act of vandalism. However they are mistaken. The truth is that the term ‘graffiti’ does not include all forms of writing on walls. There are three that must be separated. Number one is the ‘tag’. It is when the artist writes his name in his own style. This is usually not considered art because it is done for purposes such as marking territory and not emotional expression. Then there is the ‘throw up’ in which the artist may use bubble letters to create an intricate design. Lastly there is the ‘piece or ‘masterpiece’, these usually depict a scene or well known characters with some sort of slogan. This advanced form often requires the collaboration of multiple artists. It takes hours of planning and uses spray paint and felt tip pens. Graffiti art is not uninspired vandalism. It is an art and the people who do it are artists. The definition of art is human creative skill or its application resulting in visual representation. Graffiti art fits right into this definition. Every piece has a meaning behind it or inspiration. Traditionally graffiti art’s motives stem from the dehumanization of the working class. It was a way for youth to protest the ways in which they were not categorized as people, but resources for production. However, today many artists are no longer driven by the social motive. The creativeness and originality of graffiti art has interested many new and upcoming artists as a different way to express themselves. It interests them because it has not developed under traditional ways for artistic expression, it is new and they can appeal to a much younger and different audience. Graffiti must be recognised as art. It is on the rise all over the world. According to a report by the police, property damage has increased by 15. 3%. This was a result of increased graffiti mainly by youths. Ratepayers in Auckland are spending 5 million dollars in order to pay for the removal of graffiti on the streets. Also in 2009 an Auckland businessman, Bruce Emery, was convicted of manslaughter after he chased two taggers outside of his home and stabbed one of them with a knife. Despite what you may be thinking at the moment, that graffiti should be completely illegal and consequences for taking part in it should be increased in order to discourage the act, you are wrong. The only way to prevent these results of illegal graffiti is to recognise it as an art form. Graffiti art is going to be ever present in our future, its popularity is on the rise and we must accept it. However it is also crucial that we promote legal graffiti art. Providing legal walls and spaces where artists can perfect their talent is crucial. Also teaching youths the difference between legal and illegal graffiti art is very important. There are benefits for recognising graffiti as an art. It will open up new ways for artists to express themselves, especially young artists. There will be less tagging in the streets, as youths will be knowledgeable on what is legal graffiti and what is not. There will also be legal places for them to do graffiti. Ratepayers will not have to spend millions of dollars a year to clean it up. Also the quantity of youths and adults in prison will decrease, reason being they are knowledgeable on what is legal and illegal and have spaces where they can practice the art legally. In conclusion graffiti should be seen as an art. Recognising it as art would mean a new opportunity for artists to express themselves would be available. There would be less tagging in the streets and Ratepayers would not have to spend millions for it to be cleaned up. Ask yourselves, how can something that takes such complex geometry, proportion, shading and patterning skill be written off as vandalism.

Fool Chapter 2

TWO NOW, GODS, STAND UP FOR BASTARDS![11] I found Drool in the laundry resolving a wank, spouting great gouts of git-seed across the laundry walls, floors, and ceiling, giggling, as young Shanker Mary wagged her tits at him over a steaming cauldron of the king's shirts. â€Å"Put those away, tart, we've a show to do.† â€Å"I was just giving ‘im a laugh.† â€Å"If you wanted to show charity you could have bonked him honest and there'd be a lot less cleaning to do.† â€Å"That'd be a sin. Besides, I'd as soon straddle a gateman's halberd as try to get a weapon that girth up me.† Drool pumped himself dry and sat down on the floor splay-legged, huffing like a great dribbling bellows. I tried to help the lout repack his tackle, but getting him into a codpiece against his firm enthusiasm was like trying to pound a bucket over a bull's head – a scenario I thought comical enough to perhaps work into the act tonight, should things get slow. â€Å"Nothing stopping you from givin' the lad a proper cleavage toss, Mary. You had 'em out and all soaped up, a couple of jumps and a tickle and he'd have carried water for you for a fortnight.† â€Å"He already does. And I don't even want that thing near me. A Natural, he is. There's devils in his jizm.† â€Å"Devils? Devils? There's no devils in there, lass. Chock full o' nitwits, to be sure, but no devils.† A Natural was either blessed or cursed, never just an accident of nature, as the name implied. Sometime during the week, Shanker Mary had gone Christian on us, despite being a most egregious slut. You never knew anymore who you were dealing with. Half the kingdom was Christian, the other half paid tribute to the old gods of Nature, who were always showing promise on the moonrise. The Christian God with his â€Å"day of rest† was strong with the peasants come Sunday, but by Thursday when there was drinking and fucking to be done, Nature had her kit off, legs aloft, and a flagon of ale in each hand, taking converts for the Druids as fast as they could come. They were a solid majority when the holiday was about, dancing, drinking, shagging the virgins, and sharing the harvest, but on the human sacrifice or burn-down-the-King's-forest days, there was none but crickets cavorting 'round the Stonehenge – the singers having forsaken Mother Earth for Father Church. â€Å"Pretty,† said Drool, trying to wrestle back control of his tool. Mary had commenced to stirring the laundry but had neglected to pull her dress up. Had the git's attention hostage, she did. â€Å"Right. She's a bloody vision of loveliness, lad, but you've buffed yourself to a gleam already and we've work to do. The castle's awash in intrigue, subterfuge, and villainy – they'll be wanting-comic relief between the flattery and the murders.† â€Å"Intrigue and villainy?† Drool displayed a gape-toothed grin. Imagine soldiers dumping hogsheads of spittle through the crenellations atop the castle wall – thus is Drool's grin, as earnest in expression as it is damp in execution – a slurry of good cheer. He loves intrigue and villainy, as they play to his most special ability. â€Å"Will there be hiding?† â€Å"There will most certainly be hiding,† said I, as I shouldered an escaped testicle into his cod. â€Å"And listening?† â€Å"Listening of cavernous proportions – we shall hang on every word as God on Pope's prayers.† â€Å"And fuckery? Will there be fuckery, Pocket?† â€Å"Heinous fuckery most foul, lad. Heinous fuckery most foul.† â€Å"Aye, that's the dog's bollocks,[12] then!† said Drool, slapping his thigh. â€Å"Did you hear, Mary? Heinous fuckery afoot. Ain't that the dog's bollocks?† â€Å"Oh yeah, the dog's bloody B. it is, love. If the saints are smilin' on us, maybe one of them nobles will hang your wee mate there like they been threatening.† â€Å"Two fools well-hung we'd have then, wouldn't we?† said I, elbowing my apprentice in the ribs. â€Å"Aye, two fools well-hung, we'd have, wouldn't we?† said Drool, in my voice, tone to note coming out his great maw as like he'd caught an echo on his tongue and coughed it right back. That's the oaf's gift – not only can he mimic perfectly, he can recall whole conversations, hours long, recite them back to you in the original speakers' voices, and not comprehend a single word. He'd first been gifted to Lear by a Spanish duke because of his torrential dribbling and the ability to break wind that could darken a room, but when I discovered the Natural's keener talent, I took him as my apprentice to teach him the manly art of mirth. Drool laughed. â€Å"Two fools well-hung – â€Å" â€Å"Stop that!† I said. â€Å"It's unsettling.† Unsettling indeed, to hear your own voice sluicing pitch-perfect out of that mountain of lout, stripped of wit and washed of irony. Two years I'd had Drool under my wing and I was still not inured to it. He meant no harm, it was simply his nature. The anchoress at the abbey had taught me of nature, making me recite Aristotle: â€Å"It is the mark of an educated man, and a tribute to his culture, that he look for precision in a thing only as its nature allows.† I would not have Drool reading Cicero or crafting clever riddles, but under my tutelage he had become more than fair at tumbling and juggling, could belch a song, and was, at court, at least as entertaining as a trained bear, with slightly less proclivity for eating the guests. With guidance, he would make a proper fool. â€Å"Pocket is sad,† said Drool. He patted my head, which was wildly irritating, not only because we were face-to-face – me standing, him sitting bum-to-floor – but because it rang the bells of my coxcomb in a most melancholy manner. â€Å"I'm not sad,† said I. â€Å"I'm angry that you've been lost all morning.† â€Å"I weren't lost. I were right here, the whole time, having three laughs with Mary.† â€Å"Three?! You're lucky you two didn't burst into flames, you from friction and her from bloody thunderbolts of Jesus.† â€Å"Maybe four,† said Drool. â€Å"You do look the lost one, Pocket,† said Mary. â€Å"Face like a mourning orphan what's been dumped in the gutter with the chamber pots.† â€Å"I'm preoccupied. The king has kept no company but Kent this last week, the castle is brimming with backstabbers, and there's a girl-ghost rhyming ominous on the battlements.† â€Å"Well, there's always a bloody ghost, ain't there?† Mary fished a shirt out of the cauldron and bobbed it across the room on her paddle like she was out for a stroll with her own sodden, steaming ghost. â€Å"You've got no cares but making everyone laugh, right?† â€Å"Aye, carefree as a breeze. Leave that water when you're done, would you, Mary? Drool needs a dunking.† â€Å"Nooooooo!† â€Å"Hush, you can't go before the court like that, you smell of shit. Did you sleep on the dung heap again last night?† â€Å"It were warm.† I clouted him a good one on the crown with Jones. â€Å"Warm's not all, lad. If you want warm you can sleep in the great hall with everyone else.† â€Å"He ain't allowed,† offered Mary. â€Å"Chamberlain[13] says his snoring frightens the dogs.† â€Å"Not allowed?† Every commoner who didn't have quarters slept on the floor in the great hall – strewn about willy-nilly on the straw and rushes – nearly dog-piled before the fireplace in winter. An enterprising fellow with night horns aloft and a predisposal to creep might find himself accidentally sharing a blanket or a tumble with a sleepy and possibly willing wench, and then be banished for a fortnight from the hall's friendly warmth (and indeed, I owe my own modest apartment above the barbican[14] to such nocturnal proclivity), but put out for snoring? Unheard of. When night's inky cape falls o'er the great hall, a gristmill it becomes, the machines of men's breath grind their dreams with a frightful roar, and even Drool's great gears fall undistinguished among the chorus. â€Å"For snoring? Not allowed in the hall? Balderdash!† â€Å"And for having a wee on the steward's wife,† Mary added. â€Å"It were dark,† explained Drool. â€Å"Aye, and even in daylight she is easily mistaken for a privy, but have I not tutored you in the control of your fluids, lad?† â€Å"Aye, and with great success,† said Shanker Mary, rolling her eyes at the spunk-frosted wall. â€Å"Ah, Mary, well said. Let's make a pact: If you do not make attempts at wit, I will refrain from becoming a soap-smelling prick-pull. What say ye?† â€Å"You said you liked the smell of soap.† â€Å"Aye, well, speaking of smell. Drool, fetch some buckets of cold water from the well. We need to cool this kettle down and get you bathed.† â€Å"Nooooooo!† â€Å"Jones will be very unhappy with you if you don't hurry,† said I, brandishing Jones in a disapproving and somewhat threatening manner. A hard master is Jones, bitter, no doubt, from being raised as a puppet on a stick. A half-hour later, a miserable Drool sat in the steaming cauldron, fully-clothed, his natural broth having turned the lye-white water to a rich, brown oaf-sauce. Shanker Mary stirred about him with her paddle, being careful not to stir him beyond suds to lust. I was quizzing my student on the coming night's entertainments. â€Å"So, because Cornwall is on the sea, we shall portray the duke how, dear Drool?† â€Å"As a sheep-shagger,† said the despondent giant. â€Å"No, lad, that's Albany. Cornwall shall be the fish-fucker.† â€Å"Aye, sorry, Pocket.† â€Å"Not a worry, not a worry. You'll still be sodden from your bath, I suspect, so we'll work that into the jest. Bit of sloshing and squishing will but add to the merriment, and if we can thus imply that Princess Regan is herself, a fishlike consort, well I can't think of anyone who won't be amused.† â€Å"‘Cepting the princess,† said Mary. â€Å"Well, yes, but she is very literal-minded and often has to be explained the thrust of the jest a time or two before lending her appreciation.† â€Å"Aye, remedial thrusting's the remedy for Regan's stubborn wit,† said the puppet Jones. â€Å"Aye, remedial thrusting's the remedy for Regan's stubborn wit,† said Drool in Jones's voice. â€Å"You're dead men,† sighed Shanker Mary. â€Å"You're a dead man, knave!† said a man's voice from behind me. And there stood Edmund, bastard son of Gloucester, blocking the only exit, sword in hand. Dressed all in black, was the bastard: a simple silver brooch secured his cape, the hilts of his sword and dagger were silver dragon heads with emerald eyes. His jet beard was trimmed to points. I do admire the bastard's sense of style – simple, elegant, and evil. He owns his darkness. I, myself, am called the Black Fool. Not because I am a Moor, although I hold no grudge toward them (Moors are said to be talented wife-stranglers) and would take no offense at the moniker were that the case, but my skin is as snowy as any sun-starved son of England. No, I am called so because of my wardrobe, an argyle of black satin and velvet diamonds – not the rainbow motley of the run-a-day fool. Lear said: â€Å"After thy black wit shall be thy dress, fool. Perhaps a new outfit will stop you tweaking Death's nose. I'm short for the grave as it is, boy, no need to anger the worms before my arrival.† When even a king fears irony's twisted blade, what fool is ever unarmed? â€Å"Draw your weapon, fool!† said Edmund. â€Å"Sadly, sir, I have none,† said I. Jones shook his head in unarmed woe. We both were lying, of course. Across the small of my back I wore three wickedly-pointed throwing daggers – fashioned for me by the armorer to be used in our entertainments – and while I had never used them as weapons, truly flung they had spitted apples off the head of Drool, nipped plums from his outstretched fingers, and yea, even speared grapes out of the air. I had little doubt that one might find its way into Edmund's eye and thus vent his bitter mind like a lanced boil. If he needed to know he would know soon enough. If not, well, why trouble him? â€Å"If not a fight, then a murder it is,† said Edmund. He lunged, his blade aimed for my heart. I sidestepped and knocked his blade away with Jones, who lost a bell from his coxcomb for his trouble. I hopped up onto the lip of the cauldron. â€Å"But, sir, why spend your wrath on a poor, helpless fool?† Edmund slashed. I leapt. He missed. I landed on the far side of the cauldron. Drool moaned. Mary hid in the corner. â€Å"You shouted bastard at me from the battlements.† â€Å"Aye, they announced you as bastard. You, sir, are a bastard. And a bastard most unjust to make me die with the foul taste of truth still on my tongue. Allow me a lie before you strike: You have such kind eyes.† â€Å"But you spoke badly of my mother as well.† He put himself between me and the door. Bloody bad planning, building a laundry with only one exit. â€Å"I may have implied that she was a poxy whore, but from what your father says, that, too, is not breaking the bonds of verity.† â€Å"What?† asked Edmund. â€Å"What?† asked Drool, a perfect parrot of Edmund. â€Å"What?† inquired Mary. â€Å"It's true, you git! Your mother was a poxy whore!† â€Å"Beggin' your pardon, sir, poxiness ain't so bad,† said Shanker Mary, shining a ray of optimism on these dark ages. â€Å"Unfairly maligned, the poxy are. Methinks a spot o' the pox implies experience. Worldliness, if you will.† â€Å"The tart makes an excellent point, Edmund. But for the slow descent into madness and death with your bits dropping off along the way, the pox is a veritable blessing,† said I, as I skipped just out of blade's reach from the bastard, who stalked me around the great cauldron. â€Å"Take Mary here. In fact, there's an idea. Take Mary. Why spend your energy after a long journey murdering a speck of a fool when you can enjoy the pleasures of a lusty wench who is not only ready, but willing, and smells pleasantly of soap?† â€Å"Aye,† said Drool, expelling froth as he spoke. â€Å"She's a bloody vision of loveliness.† Edmund let his sword point drop and looked at Drool for the first time. â€Å"Are you eating soap?† â€Å"Just a wee sliver,† bubbled Drool. â€Å"They weren't saving it.† Edmund turned back to me. â€Å"Why are you boiling this fellow?† â€Å"Couldn't be helped,† said I. (How dramatic, the bastard, the water was barely steaming. What appeared to be boiling was Drool venting vapors.) â€Å"Common fuckin' courtesy, ain't it?† said Mary. â€Å"Speak straight, both of you.† The bastard wheeled on one heel and before I knew what was happening, he had the point of his blade at Mary's throat. â€Å"I've been nine years in the Holy Land killing Saracens, killing one or two more makes no difference to me.† â€Å"Wait!† I leapt back to the lip of the cauldron, reaching to the small of my back with my free hand. â€Å"Wait. He's being punished. By the king. For attacking me.† â€Å"Punished? For attacking a fool?† â€Å"‘Boil him alive,' the king said.† I jumped down to Edmund's side of the cauldron – moved toward the doorway. I'd needed a clear line of sight, and should he move, I didn't want the blade to hit Mary. â€Å"Everyone knows how fond the king is of his dark little fool,† said Mary, nodding enthusiastically. â€Å"Bollocks!† shouted Edmund, as he pulled the sword back to slash. Mary screamed. I flipped a dagger in the air, caught it by the blade, and was readying to send it to Edmund's heart when something hit him in the back of the head with a thud and he went bum over eyebrows into the wall, his blade clanging across the floor to my feet. Drool had stood up in the cauldron and was holding Mary's laundry paddle – a bit of dark hair and bloody scalp clung to the bleached wood. â€Å"Did you see that, Pocket? Smashing fall he did.† All of it a pantomime to Drool. Edmund was not moving. As far as I could see, he was not breathing either. â€Å"God's bloody balls, Drool, you've kilt the earl's son. We'll all be hung, now.† â€Å"But he were going to hurt Mary.† Mary sat on the floor by Edmund's prostrate body and began stroking his hair on a spot where there was no blood. â€Å"I was going to shag him docile, too.† â€Å"He would have killed you without a thought.† â€Å"Ah, blokes have their tempers, don't they? Look at him, he's a fair form of a fellow, innit he? And rich, too.† She took something from his pocket. â€Å"What's this?† â€Å"Well done, lass, not so much as a comma between grief and robbery, and much the better when he's still so fresh his fleas have not sailed to livelier ports. The Church wears well on you.† â€Å"No, I'm not robbing. Look, it's a letter.† â€Å"Give it here.† â€Å"You can read?† The tart's eyes widened as if I had confessed the ability to turn lead into gold. â€Å"I was raised in a nunnery, wench. I am a walking library of learning – bound in comely leather and suitable for stroking – at your service, should you fancy a bit of culture to go with your lack of breeding, or vice versa, of course.† Then Edmund gasped and stirred. â€Å"Oh fuckstockings. The bastard's alive.†

The Buyer is Boss

Millie and Liza have been friends for the longest time. Some months ago they decided to share an apartment, and that is how they found the two-bedroom unit they are currently renting. Asked what their first major buy was after the move, they chorused that they just both got laptops. Both of them had desktops, Millie even has a superior type which helps in her work as a graphics designer. Liza, a writer, had an old desktop which sufficed for word publishing and internet access.However, they stressed they needed the laptops because â€Å"the apartment is small, there is no room for two desktops,† justifying that they needed the gadgets and did not just want them. However, they had different ideals for a laptop they have in mind. Millie, being a graphic designer, needed a high-end mobile computer which will be superior in memory and speed—and the bigger the monitor, the better. Liza, on the other hand, was more conscious about the price. She wanted a laptop that will work just like her old desktop, and she has set a budget to stick strictly on.Friends have warned them that laptops will cost more than powerful desktops do, but the need for space was of primacy. They went on to research and window shopping. Through Yahoo Answers, a web service where people can connect to each other for questions and answers about almost anything, they found the best suggestions: computer stores in the area and eBay. While the computer stores option gave competitive prices and models, the two girls agreed they will get cheaper units from eBay. They checked the site for a couple of weeks using a single user account, and finally found the laptops.It was Liza who found hers first. It was an mid-model Compaq Presario 1400 which was â€Å"released in 2002 according to my research. † Apparently, Liza was researching each of the product she saw and took note of which will give her the best computer with what little money she has. Millie got hers, a second-hand MacBook, about a month after, and she too went through the research ordeal. They asserted that shopping in eBay will require lots of patience, research, and inquisitiveness, else one might end up â€Å"with a D-class item†.Luckily, their finds were both A classes. Both Liza and Millie were contented with their laptops, but they now agree with their friends that â€Å"it is costlier to live with a laptop†¦ we have to buy mice to avoid overusing the trackpads, and soon we might need a [laptop] cooler, and I noticed that my laptop hangs more often than my old desktop,† says Liza. But given a choice to spend their money on some other things, Millie declined. â€Å"With these space-saving gizmos, nothing else will be better. † AnalysisAllen (2003) describes the five processes in a buyer’s purchase decision making: problem recognition, information search, evaluation of alternatives, purchase decision, and post-purchse behavior. Looking at the buying process that tr anspired between Liza and Millie, it is obvious that they both went through the whole process. They realized the need to get laptops, gathered information, selected the best offers, bought the items, and came up with the feedback. Both of them had criteria for the laptops they want—recommendations, function (save space), and usage.However, Millie focused on quality and performance because of the demands of her job, while Liza was more concerned about her budget. All these are part of their awareness, then follows the search for information. Rohan (nd) asserts that information search may be internal (based on knowledge and past experience) or external. Millie and Liza resorted to external sources. There are four types of external sources: personal (family and friends), commercial (advertisements), public (news and bulletins), and experiential (tried product). (Buying Decision Process, 2006) In the case, a mixture of personal and commercial were utilized.Because the criteria fo r the laptops are clear, the process was easy for the two. They were able to sort out the purchase decision process of where, when, and if to buy, after which they came up with the concluding feedback that they were satisfied with their purchases. In some instances, parts of the buyer decision process may be skipped or reversed. This is determined by high-involvement or low-involvement. High-involvement purchases are those that require investment as they are costlier and have serious effects to its buyers (e. g.appliances, jewelry) while the low-involvement purchases are simple things that can be bought (e. g. bread, milk, burger). (Buying Decision Process, 2006) Brooks (1999) ratifies this by saying that the buyer decision process is highly situational and involvement level-dependent. Furthermore, he states that involvement may be influenced by economic, psychological, performance risk, and decision novelty factors. This theory is highly visible in the case. Millie and Liza had hig h-involvement purchases to make, and the factors played a major role.Economically, Liza was more conscious than Millie, but it is the other way around with regard to the product’s performance risk, though psychologically and in relation to decision novelty the two were consistent. The buyer decision process happens everyday to everybody. All buying processes require a person to go through at least two or three steps in the process, which may lead to a sale or not. When applied theoretically, the buyer decision process is a good tool for consumers to choose their wares, and for merchants to know how to target their consumers. For Millie, Liza, and their sellers, it definitely worked.

Creating Academic and Professional Success Essay - 3

Creating Academic and Professional Success - Essay Example This determination has made strong in life and helped me in taking decisions which I have not regretted. Choosing the path of success in my professional life has become an aim for me because of this very strong determination and I think if I utilize it in the correct manner I’ll be able to achieve what I aim to. But as said by Christopher Moore "Nobodys perfect. Well, there was this one guy, but we killed him....". It clearly depicts that I personally have my own weaknesses in achieving my goals. All over these years I have realized that learning something is not easy for me. It takes time for me to learn things which others learn in a while. But this weakness can easily be overcome if I give all of my attention to my goals. This attention helps me to not only learn and understand things but also to excel in these things. The main problems which I face with my life are regarding the division of time. Because I have my own wife to take care of it is quite difficult for me to divide my time when it comes to my work and household. But here again I have realized every problem has a solution to it and thus I have several opportunities to cope up. I can make my wife understand my problems and divide my time accordingly. It would help me to give more attention to my goals and aims which would then be easily

Animated Sitcom Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Animated Sitcom - Essay Example projected by the animated characters, because it gets neutralized in the audience perception, as being resorted to more out of an intention to create fun, rather than being something serious and somber. It goes without saying that many a times, hiding behind the perceived intentions of creating fun, the animated sitcoms do comment on the politically sensitive issues like race, gender and age in a very thought provoking and unsettling manner. The animated sitcoms do mostly afford to challenge or disturb the social status quos, because the society mostly perceives them as being something created to be inherently funny and ridiculous. No wonder, if something is being perceived as being quintessentially funny and ridiculous, the nonconventional social comments and observations made by such a genre are more than often forgiven, because of being taken as something light and imaginary. It goes without saying that the animated sitcoms realized the complete extent of poetic license they carry over a period of time, through much trial and experimentation. If one analyzes the animated sitcoms in a historical context, one simply cannot fail observing the fact that the families found in the animated sitcoms have gradually graduated from being normal, to funny, to being outright subversive. The animation aspect of these sitcoms allows the artists to portray even the most socially horrifying and sensitive aspects of life in a way that appears and sounds less offensive to the viewers. Certainly, the controversy that the animated sitcoms are able to dilute and mitigate in their peculiar format is something that perhaps even the most popular of live action shows cannot get away with. However, the more serious connoisseurs of animated sitcoms do know that the comedy inherent in the animated sitcoms is definitely not mindless and flimsy. Actually it is in a way the projection of a visual social commentary which does have the capacity to give way to meaningful discussions and

Case study _ Investemnt management Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

Case study _ Investemnt management - Essay Example In order to succeed with that thought, she inquired from the small business around her and hoped that the idea would bring in more assets and less loses. The strategy was a good move as it allowed her to have more clients as well as giving back to the society /community by employing more people. With a bigger business, it gives an opening for more opportunities as well as profit maximization to the business. Though it can be more advantageous the strategy can also have negative impacts as it can easily fail bringing loses to the business. To expand a business it requires so much input to the same and it can be overwhelming to the employer and the employee leading to its termination before it gets a good foundation. The strategy however is a good element for a business as it gives clients a variety of things and services to benefit from. Sarah however had other alternatives other than expanding her business. She would have gotten more employees with better marketing skills to ensure that more people were aware of her products and services. This would mean more new clients, more contracts and even more profits to her business. Sarah wo uld also have thought of opening more branches of Beta Management outside Boston suburb. This would have assisted with company’s popularity as well as its brand making. In order to add clients or customers value in her business, she was supposed to do some things that were different from her competitors that were supposed to benefit both her and the clients. She needed to have her clients loyalty to her services and products and to do this she was supposed to prioritize the quality of her business to the quantity of what she was doing. This would defiantly assist her win against the competitors in both short and long run which will ensure steady clients commitment, more clients joining the business as well as more profits over the years. Sarah’s New Year’s resolution