Questões Militares Comentadas sobre inglês

                                                              Text 1

             Luis Suárez joins anti-racism calls after Dani Alves banana incident

      The Barcelona defender Dani Alves has sparked a social media campaign against racism in football as support flooded in from fellow professionals for his decision to eat a banana thrown at him by an opposition fan.

      Luis Suárez, Neymar, Hulk, Mario Balotelli and Sergio Agüero were among those who posted pictures of themselves taking bites out of bananas in tribute to Alves' actions in his side's La Liga match at Villarreal on Sunday.

      The Fifa president Joseph Blatter has branded the abuse directed at Alves an "outrage" and promised zero tolerance towards discrimination at the World Cup, while Villarreal took swift action by identifying the culprit and handing him a lifetime stadium ban.

      Alves' response to the banana being thrown on to the pitch in front of him as he prepared to take a corner was to nonchalantly pick it up, peel it and take a bite before continuing with the game. The 30-yearold, who has been the victim of racist abuse before during his time in La Liga, said: "You need to take these situations with a dose of humour."

      Players across Europe paid homage on Twitter and Instagram, including Suárez, who served an eight-match ban for racially abusing Patrice Evra.

      Alves's Barça and Brazil team-mate Neymar led the way after posting a picture on Instagram of himself holding a banana, while writing "We are all monkeys". Balotelli, Milan's former Manchester City striker, posted a picture of himself in a similar pose.

      Suárez posted a picture on Twitter of himself and Liverpool team-mate Philippe Coutinho taking bites out of bananas, along with the words: "#SayNoToRacism #WeAreAllMonkeys."

      (...)

      Barça gave their player their "complete support and solidarity" and thanked Villarreal for their "immediate condemnation" of the incident. Villarreal later revealed they had, with the help of fans, found out who the culprit was, had withdrawn his season ticket and banned him from the El Madrigal stadium for life.

Disponível em:<http://www.theguardian.com/football/2014/apr/29/luis-suarez-anti-racism-dani-alvesbanana> . Acesso em 29 abr.2014 (texto adaptado)  

                                                    Text 2  

                                          What’s in a name?

                                                                                        Henry Louis Gates Jr. (1989)

The question of color takes up much space in these pages, but the question of color, especially in this country, operates to hide the graver questions of the self.

                                                                                                    - James Baldwin, 1961

… blood, darky, Tar baby, Kaffir, shine… moor, blackamoor, Jim Crow, spook… quadroon, meriney, red bone, high yellow… Mammy, porch monkey, home, homeboy, George… spearchucker, Leroy, Smokey…mouli, buck, Ethiopian, brother, sistah…

                                                                                                              - Trey Ellis, 1989

      I had forgotten the incident completely, until I read Trey Elli’s essay, “Remember My Name,” in a recent issue of the Village Voice (June 13, 1989). But there, in the middle of an extended italicized list of the bynames of “the race” (“the race” or “our people” being the terms my parents used in polite or reverential discourse, “jigaboo” or “nigger” more commonly used in anger, jest, or pure disgust), it was: “George”. Now the events of that very brief exchange return to my mind so vividly that I wonder why I had forgotten it.

      My father and I were walking home at dusk from his second job. He “moonlighted” as a janitor in the evenings for the telephone company. Every day, but Saturday, he would come home at 3:30 from his regular job at the paper Mill, wash up, eat supper, then at 4:30 head downtown to his second job. He used to make jokes frequently about a union official who moonlighted. I never got the joke, but he and his friends thought it was hilarious. All I knew was that my family always ate well, that my brother and I had new clothes to wear, and that all of the white people in Piedmont, West Virginia, treated my parents with an odd mixture of resentment and respect that even we understood at the time had something directly to do with a small but certain measure of financial security.

      He had left a little early that evening because I was with him and I had to be in bed early. I could not have been more than five or six, and we had stopped off at the Cut-Rate Drug Store (where no black person in town but my father could sit down to eat, and eat off real plates with real silverware) so that I could buy some caramel ice cream, two scoops in a wafer cone, please, which I was busy licking when Mr. Wilson walked by.

      Mr. Wilson was a very quiet man, whose stony, brooding, silent manner seemed designed to scare off any overtures of friendship, even from white people. He was Irish as was one-third of our village (another third being Italian), the more affluent among whom sent their children to “Catholic School” across the bridge in Maryland. He had white straight hair, like my Uncle Joe, whom he uncannily resembled, and he carried a black worn metal lunch pail, the kind that Riley carried on the television show. My father always spoke to him, and for reasons that we never did understand, he always spoke to my father.

      “Hello, Mr. Wilson,” I heard my father say.

      “Hello, George.”  

I stopped licking my ice cream cone, and asked my Dad in a loud voice why Mr. Wilson had called him “George.”

      “Doesn’t he know your name, Daddy? Why don’t you tell him your name? Your name isn’t George.”

      For a moment I tried to think of who Mr. Wilson was mixing Pop up with. But we didn’t have any Georges among the colored people in Piedmont; nor were there colored Georges living in the neighboring towns and working at the Mill.

      “Tell him your name, Daddy.”

      “He knows my name, boy,” my father said after a long pause. “He calls all colored people George.”

      A long silence ensued. It was “one of those things”, as my Mom would put it. Even then, that early, I knew when I was in the presence of “one of those things”, one of those things that provided a glimpse, through a rent curtain, at another world that we could not affect but that affected us. There would be a painful moment of silence, and you would wait for it to give way to a discussion of a black superstar such as Sugar Ray or Jackie Robinson.

      “Nobody hits better in a clutch than Jackie Robinson.”

      “That’s right. Nobody.”

      I never again looked Mr. Wilson in the eye.  

                                                 Text 2  

                                          What’s in a name?

                                                                                        Henry Louis Gates Jr. (1989)

The question of color takes up much space in these pages, but the question of color, especially in this country, operates to hide the graver questions of the self.

                                                                                                    - James Baldwin, 1961

… blood, darky, Tar baby, Kaffir, shine… moor, blackamoor, Jim Crow, spook… quadroon, meriney, red bone, high yellow… Mammy, porch monkey, home, homeboy, George… spearchucker, Leroy, Smokey…mouli, buck, Ethiopian, brother, sistah…

                                                                                                              - Trey Ellis, 1989

      I had forgotten the incident completely, until I read Trey Elli’s essay, “Remember My Name,” in a recent issue of the Village Voice (June 13, 1989). But there, in the middle of an extended italicized list of the bynames of “the race” (“the race” or “our people” being the terms my parents used in polite or reverential discourse, “jigaboo” or “nigger” more commonly used in anger, jest, or pure disgust), it was: “George”. Now the events of that very brief exchange return to my mind so vividly that I wonder why I had forgotten it.

      My father and I were walking home at dusk from his second job. He “moonlighted” as a janitor in the evenings for the telephone company. Every day, but Saturday, he would come home at 3:30 from his regular job at the paper Mill, wash up, eat supper, then at 4:30 head downtown to his second job. He used to make jokes frequently about a union official who moonlighted. I never got the joke, but he and his friends thought it was hilarious. All I knew was that my family always ate well, that my brother and I had new clothes to wear, and that all of the white people in Piedmont, West Virginia, treated my parents with an odd mixture of resentment and respect that even we understood at the time had something directly to do with a small but certain measure of financial security.

      He had left a little early that evening because I was with him and I had to be in bed early. I could not have been more than five or six, and we had stopped off at the Cut-Rate Drug Store (where no black person in town but my father could sit down to eat, and eat off real plates with real silverware) so that I could buy some caramel ice cream, two scoops in a wafer cone, please, which I was busy licking when Mr. Wilson walked by.

      Mr. Wilson was a very quiet man, whose stony, brooding, silent manner seemed designed to scare off any overtures of friendship, even from white people. He was Irish as was one-third of our village (another third being Italian), the more affluent among whom sent their children to “Catholic School” across the bridge in Maryland. He had white straight hair, like my Uncle Joe, whom he uncannily resembled, and he carried a black worn metal lunch pail, the kind that Riley carried on the television show. My father always spoke to him, and for reasons that we never did understand, he always spoke to my father.

      “Hello, Mr. Wilson,” I heard my father say.

      “Hello, George.”  

I stopped licking my ice cream cone, and asked my Dad in a loud voice why Mr. Wilson had called him “George.”

      “Doesn’t he know your name, Daddy? Why don’t you tell him your name? Your name isn’t George.”

      For a moment I tried to think of who Mr. Wilson was mixing Pop up with. But we didn’t have any Georges among the colored people in Piedmont; nor were there colored Georges living in the neighboring towns and working at the Mill.

      “Tell him your name, Daddy.”

      “He knows my name, boy,” my father said after a long pause. “He calls all colored people George.”

      A long silence ensued. It was “one of those things”, as my Mom would put it. Even then, that early, I knew when I was in the presence of “one of those things”, one of those things that provided a glimpse, through a rent curtain, at another world that we could not affect but that affected us. There would be a painful moment of silence, and you would wait for it to give way to a discussion of a black superstar such as Sugar Ray or Jackie Robinson.

      “Nobody hits better in a clutch than Jackie Robinson.”

      “That’s right. Nobody.”

      I never again looked Mr. Wilson in the eye.  

                                                              Text 1

             Luis Suárez joins anti-racism calls after Dani Alves banana incident

      The Barcelona defender Dani Alves has sparked a social media campaign against racism in football as support flooded in from fellow professionals for his decision to eat a banana thrown at him by an opposition fan.

      Luis Suárez, Neymar, Hulk, Mario Balotelli and Sergio Agüero were among those who posted pictures of themselves taking bites out of bananas in tribute to Alves' actions in his side's La Liga match at Villarreal on Sunday.

      The Fifa president Joseph Blatter has branded the abuse directed at Alves an "outrage" and promised zero tolerance towards discrimination at the World Cup, while Villarreal took swift action by identifying the culprit and handing him a lifetime stadium ban.

      Alves' response to the banana being thrown on to the pitch in front of him as he prepared to take a corner was to nonchalantly pick it up, peel it and take a bite before continuing with the game. The 30-yearold, who has been the victim of racist abuse before during his time in La Liga, said: "You need to take these situations with a dose of humour."

      Players across Europe paid homage on Twitter and Instagram, including Suárez, who served an eight-match ban for racially abusing Patrice Evra.

      Alves's Barça and Brazil team-mate Neymar led the way after posting a picture on Instagram of himself holding a banana, while writing "We are all monkeys". Balotelli, Milan's former Manchester City striker, posted a picture of himself in a similar pose.

      Suárez posted a picture on Twitter of himself and Liverpool team-mate Philippe Coutinho taking bites out of bananas, along with the words: "#SayNoToRacism #WeAreAllMonkeys."

      (...)

      Barça gave their player their "complete support and solidarity" and thanked Villarreal for their "immediate condemnation" of the incident. Villarreal later revealed they had, with the help of fans, found out who the culprit was, had withdrawn his season ticket and banned him from the El Madrigal stadium for life.

Disponível em:<http://www.theguardian.com/football/2014/apr/29/luis-suarez-anti-racism-dani-alvesbanana> . Acesso em 29 abr.2014 (texto adaptado)  

                                                              Text 1

             Luis Suárez joins anti-racism calls after Dani Alves banana incident

      The Barcelona defender Dani Alves has sparked a social media campaign against racism in football as support flooded in from fellow professionals for his decision to eat a banana thrown at him by an opposition fan.

      Luis Suárez, Neymar, Hulk, Mario Balotelli and Sergio Agüero were among those who posted pictures of themselves taking bites out of bananas in tribute to Alves' actions in his side's La Liga match at Villarreal on Sunday.

      The Fifa president Joseph Blatter has branded the abuse directed at Alves an "outrage" and promised zero tolerance towards discrimination at the World Cup, while Villarreal took swift action by identifying the culprit and handing him a lifetime stadium ban.

      Alves' response to the banana being thrown on to the pitch in front of him as he prepared to take a corner was to nonchalantly pick it up, peel it and take a bite before continuing with the game. The 30-yearold, who has been the victim of racist abuse before during his time in La Liga, said: "You need to take these situations with a dose of humour."

      Players across Europe paid homage on Twitter and Instagram, including Suárez, who served an eight-match ban for racially abusing Patrice Evra.

      Alves's Barça and Brazil team-mate Neymar led the way after posting a picture on Instagram of himself holding a banana, while writing "We are all monkeys". Balotelli, Milan's former Manchester City striker, posted a picture of himself in a similar pose.

      Suárez posted a picture on Twitter of himself and Liverpool team-mate Philippe Coutinho taking bites out of bananas, along with the words: "#SayNoToRacism #WeAreAllMonkeys."

      (...)

      Barça gave their player their "complete support and solidarity" and thanked Villarreal for their "immediate condemnation" of the incident. Villarreal later revealed they had, with the help of fans, found out who the culprit was, had withdrawn his season ticket and banned him from the El Madrigal stadium for life.

Disponível em:<http://www.theguardian.com/football/2014/apr/29/luis-suarez-anti-racism-dani-alvesbanana> . Acesso em 29 abr.2014 (texto adaptado)  

                                                    Text 2  

                                          What’s in a name?

                                                                                        Henry Louis Gates Jr. (1989)

The question of color takes up much space in these pages, but the question of color, especially in this country, operates to hide the graver questions of the self.

                                                                                                    - James Baldwin, 1961

… blood, darky, Tar baby, Kaffir, shine… moor, blackamoor, Jim Crow, spook… quadroon, meriney, red bone, high yellow… Mammy, porch monkey, home, homeboy, George… spearchucker, Leroy, Smokey…mouli, buck, Ethiopian, brother, sistah…

                                                                                                              - Trey Ellis, 1989

      I had forgotten the incident completely, until I read Trey Elli’s essay, “Remember My Name,” in a recent issue of the Village Voice (June 13, 1989). But there, in the middle of an extended italicized list of the bynames of “the race” (“the race” or “our people” being the terms my parents used in polite or reverential discourse, “jigaboo” or “nigger” more commonly used in anger, jest, or pure disgust), it was: “George”. Now the events of that very brief exchange return to my mind so vividly that I wonder why I had forgotten it.

      My father and I were walking home at dusk from his second job. He “moonlighted” as a janitor in the evenings for the telephone company. Every day, but Saturday, he would come home at 3:30 from his regular job at the paper Mill, wash up, eat supper, then at 4:30 head downtown to his second job. He used to make jokes frequently about a union official who moonlighted. I never got the joke, but he and his friends thought it was hilarious. All I knew was that my family always ate well, that my brother and I had new clothes to wear, and that all of the white people in Piedmont, West Virginia, treated my parents with an odd mixture of resentment and respect that even we understood at the time had something directly to do with a small but certain measure of financial security.

      He had left a little early that evening because I was with him and I had to be in bed early. I could not have been more than five or six, and we had stopped off at the Cut-Rate Drug Store (where no black person in town but my father could sit down to eat, and eat off real plates with real silverware) so that I could buy some caramel ice cream, two scoops in a wafer cone, please, which I was busy licking when Mr. Wilson walked by.

      Mr. Wilson was a very quiet man, whose stony, brooding, silent manner seemed designed to scare off any overtures of friendship, even from white people. He was Irish as was one-third of our village (another third being Italian), the more affluent among whom sent their children to “Catholic School” across the bridge in Maryland. He had white straight hair, like my Uncle Joe, whom he uncannily resembled, and he carried a black worn metal lunch pail, the kind that Riley carried on the television show. My father always spoke to him, and for reasons that we never did understand, he always spoke to my father.

      “Hello, Mr. Wilson,” I heard my father say.

      “Hello, George.”  

I stopped licking my ice cream cone, and asked my Dad in a loud voice why Mr. Wilson had called him “George.”

      “Doesn’t he know your name, Daddy? Why don’t you tell him your name? Your name isn’t George.”

      For a moment I tried to think of who Mr. Wilson was mixing Pop up with. But we didn’t have any Georges among the colored people in Piedmont; nor were there colored Georges living in the neighboring towns and working at the Mill.

      “Tell him your name, Daddy.”

      “He knows my name, boy,” my father said after a long pause. “He calls all colored people George.”

      A long silence ensued. It was “one of those things”, as my Mom would put it. Even then, that early, I knew when I was in the presence of “one of those things”, one of those things that provided a glimpse, through a rent curtain, at another world that we could not affect but that affected us. There would be a painful moment of silence, and you would wait for it to give way to a discussion of a black superstar such as Sugar Ray or Jackie Robinson.

      “Nobody hits better in a clutch than Jackie Robinson.”

      “That’s right. Nobody.”

      I never again looked Mr. Wilson in the eye.  

"If we lived on a planet where nothing ever changed, there would be little to do. There would be nothing to figure out. There would be no impetus for science. And if we lived in an unpredictable world, where things changed in random or very complex ways, we would not be able to figure things out. ___________________________. If I throw a stick up in the air, it always falls down. If the sun sets in the west, it always rises again the next morning in the east. And so it becomes possible to figure things out. We can do science, and with it we can improve our lives."

Carl Sagan, http://todayinsci.com/S/Sagan_Carl/SaganCarl-Quotations.htm Acessado em 14 de Abril de 2015. 

                                                               Text 4

         Case Study 1: Damage Assessment in the Philippines after Typhoon Haiyan

      In November 2013, Super Typhoon Haiyan devastated the city of Tacloban in the Philippines. Soon after, a case the size of a backpack arrived, accompanied by a small team of experts. This pilot project to bring in a UAV, with a range of up to five kilometers and a high-resolution video camera, to assist humanitarian responders was the work of a partnership between several private sector firms and NetHope, a consortium of NGOs.

      The Philippines lacked the necessary regulations, so the use of the UAV was cleared by a special agreement with the Mayor of Tacloban. The UAV was covered with insurance that covered damage or injury due to malfunction.

      The UAV was used first to identify where to set up a base of operations, and then to check if roads were passable, a task that could take days when done on foot or by helicopter. The UAV was also flown up the coast to evaluate damage from storm surge and flooding and to see which villages had been affected. The aerial assessments “really helped to speed up …efforts, cut down on wasted time and work, and make them more accurate in their targeting of assistance.” It was also suggested that the UAV might have located survivors in the rubble using infrared cameras if it had arrived within 72 hours.

      Interest is building in developing local capacity for using UAVs in disaster response. SkyEye Inc., a local start-up, is working with the Ateneo de Manila University to train five teams across the Philippines to locally deploy UAVs in preparation for next typhoon season.

      UAV= unmanned aerial vehicle

      NGOs= Non-Governmental Organizations

Disponível em http://www.unocha.org/about-us/publications/flagship-publications/*/72 Acesso em 15 Abr 2015. 

                                                         Text 2

                                       MATERIALS OF IMPORTANCE

                                     Carbonated Beverages Containers

      One common item that presents some interesting material property requirements is the container for carbonated beverages. The material used for this application must satisfy the following constraints: provide a barrier to the passage of carbon dioxide, which is under pressure in the container; be nontoxic, unreactive with the beverage, and, preferably be recyclable; be relatively strong, and capable of surviving a drop from a height of several feet when containing the beverage; be inexpensive and the cost to fabricate the final shape should be relatively low; if optically transparent, retain its optical clarity; and capable of being produced having different colors and/or able to be adorned with decorative labels. All three of the basic material types—metal (aluminum), ceramic (glass), and polymer (polyester plastic)—are used for carbonated beverage containers.

      All of these materials are nontoxic and unreactive with beverages. In addition, each material has its pros and cons. For example, the aluminum alloy is relatively strong (but easily dented), is a very good barrier to the diffusion of carbon dioxide, is easily recycled, beverages are cooled rapidly, and labels may be painted onto its surface. On the other hand, the cans are optically opaque, and relatively expensive to produce. Glass is impervious to the passage of carbon dioxide, is a relatively inexpensive material, may be recycled, but it cracks and fractures easily, and glass bottles are relatively heavy. Whereas the plastic is relatively strong, may be made optically transparent, is inexpensive and lightweight, and is recyclable, it is not as impervious to the passage of carbon dioxide as the aluminum and glass. For example, you may have noticed that beverages in aluminum and glass containers retain their carbonization (i.e., “fizz”) for several years, whereas those in two-liter plastic bottles “go flat” within a few months.

Disponível em https://onedrive.live.com/view.aspx?resid=FA116F188700E8B6!608&ithint=file%2cpdf&app=WordPdf&authkey=!AcrrQAFlJ83JGjU Acesso em 15 Abr 2015.