taking public tranist? and saftey?

I work for Trimet in Portland Oregon,it's Portland's transit agency I carry a concealed gun with me everyday with me to work and even when im driving the Bus, Oregon law allows me to-do this. knowing your driver was packing a gun do you feel safer knowing that drivers at trimet are packing HEAT!!!!!

Are most rap concerts safe?

I'm going to be going to one this summer. I'm asking this because a couple years ago my friend said she went to a rap concert (somewhere in Portland I think, and I forget who it was) and someone started shootin a gun up into the air (no one was hurt). But yeah, my friend had to leave. I'm going to be in Portland at the concert also (Oregon State, USA). How likely is it that a dangerous situation will break out??
My friend could've been lying, but that's what I heard happened.

feedback on my story.. A life beyond smiles?

Travis Miller. 12 letters, 2 words and 1 face everyone at south side high school recongnized. The head quarterback of the football team, voted for best looks amongst all the senior guys, and a straight a student with a free ride to any college of his choice. He had everything he wanted going for him however everynight he took off his football gear hoping to lift all the weight off his shoulders, no matter how hard he tried he still carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. This weight being his hidden life at home and it overwhelmed him like an intimidating giant. The giant was his father James. James was a local drug dealer. In travis' younger years he had moved 5 times in one year due to his father's drug disputes. Here at south side he finally felt like he could have a permanant place to call home,although several unknown faces also called it home from one night to the next due to parties his dad had thrown. Ironically unfamiliar faces brought security to travis. Whenever unfamiliar faces flooded the 1280 sq meter surface home it meant travis was safe from torture for that night. James' temper flared in .2 seconds and when he had a temper flare anything in his path was doomed for destuction.
"Travis, you were such a mistake I cant even believe I created such an ugly son like you. You can't do anything right and you never live up to my expectations how in the H*** do you think you'll survive in the real world? Thats right you won't son because you will never amount to anything"
These harsh words were common for Travis to hear on a daily basis. This was considered a good day if thats all Travis had to put up with but most days it involved more.This is where Travis life started to contine falling apart, dealing with one outrage of his father after another until all hell broke lose and an incident occured in which Travis hadn't known how to react to. An average day which resulted in changing Travis life forever. JAmes had an outrage, cussing an punching everything in site. One issue above another was the heat of an argument between james and his wife Robin. James had uncontrolably lost his temper and perhaps even his mind. He grabbed Robin by the strands of her curly bleach blond hair and threw her up against a wall. He then took a steak knife and cut robins arm from her wrist to her upper arm. Robin shrieked and yhelled " Call the cops Travis please help me. Do something." Travis grabbed ahold of his cell phone and went to press the buttons but as soon as he pressed the the last 1 in 911 and pushed send he felt a jolt of pain run through his left cheek, knocking his phone out of his hand. The phone then landed on the hardwood floor causing it to flip open where travis' background picture was visible, him smiling in his football uniform as though he had a perfect life.

tell me what ya think so far..and if u would like critique it please :]

What do you think of my story? Is it writen right?

Chapter One
I walked out of the school gates and felt happier than I have in a long time. No more school for six weeks! I can’t believe Mum and Dad are taking me to Spain next week. I don’t like places that are crowded so we are going to a villa in the countryside with our own pool and plenty of fields for me to play around in; no one will be able to see me, doing my thing.
“Hey Danni, you forgot your bag!” called Amy, running after me.
“Oh, thanks Amy!” I take my bag from her and smile at her.
Amy is my one and only friend, I don’t trust people easily, never have, but she always makes me feel safe when I’m with her. But she doesn’t know my BIG secret. But forget about that for now, I’ve got to get home.
“Have a good holiday Danni!” Amy called as I walked away. I smile at her and wave; I’m really going to miss her.
It takes me ten minutes to get home, first thing I see is a peculiar white van parked around the corner and as soon as I get to the front door I instantly realise something is very wrong. The door is slightly ajar; I push it open and freeze. There is a man wearing a balaclava pointing a gun at a sobbing figure hunched in the corner, Mum! I can’t help but yell out. The man turns and looks at me for a second, then points the gun at Mum again and fires. NO! Then he flees out of the back door, and out of sight. I hear a screeching of tires then silence.
I run to Mum and see blood gushing from her stomach. I kneel at her side and tell her that everything will be ok. She shakes her head and into my eyes.
“Danielle, keep safe, stay hidden. And don’t trust anyone.” She whispers to me. She smiles at me weakly and then falls still. I burst into tears and quickly check her pulse. She’s dead!
A sudden thought hits me. Dad! Is he here? Look around and notice. I then notice blood seeping from under the kitchen door; I push it open and go hysterical. Dad is there, lying on the floor, a pool of blood covering the kitchen floor. I get down on my knees and check his pulse too. I’m officially an orphan.
Rage hits me like a bus going forty miles per hour. I jump to my feet and run out of the back door. I climb onto the garden wall and pull my jumper off, then jump. My beautiful pure white wings whip out beside me and I put all my strength into one powerful flap. I soar into the sky at a hundred miles per hour. I look back at my home and cry, my Mum told me to run, keep safe. Sorry Mum, I need to know what happened to you.

i need ideas....who killed them? why? whats the name of the people who did...that sort of thing...please help me!
Oh...please dont copy me....lol It probably wont get published or anything but if it does then i dont want people copying.... Copyrited!!!! lol
Umm theres a reason that its kinda like maximum ride....as im sitting her typing i have the latest one in the series on my lap ...lol
I loved the idea of mutant kids so am trying to figure out my own version lol
Yes i think ill have her leaving to go to school first... then being bored all day at school...day dreaming about stuff....then instead of flying after they die she could run after the van for a bit... or something like that
This isnt the hole chapter...just the first bit. ill proof read and put it all in the same tense lol

Solve this 2 minute mystery?

The Case of the Artic Explorer

Sir James Harvey, aged bachelor and famed explorer of the North Pole, was found murdered in his bedroom.
The $400,000 in thousand dollar bills, which he was known to keep in his wall safe, was missing.
The police concluded that the criminal or criminals had concealed the money in the house, perhaps in something brought along for the purpose, expecting to recover it later.
This surmise was founded upon Sir James’s eccentric precautions. A visitor might gain admission to his estate unchallenged. But no one, including the servants, could leave without being challenged by a series of private guards.
On the day Sir James’s possessions were put on auction, Dr. Haledjian joined Sheriff Monahan in the explorer’s museum.
“The sale starts in here,” said the sheriff. “But every stick in the house will be sold today or tomorrow.”
An auctioneer had begun to enumerate for the crowd of buyers the museum’s objects, describing them as Sir James’s favorite mementos of his five trips to the Arctic.
The objects included a group of stuffed animals – two polar bears and a penguin – three stuffed fish, and an assortment of Eskimo clothing, utensils, and weapons.
“The murderer has to be in the house,” said the sheriff. “But my men can’t watch all the rooms.”
“Rest at ease,” said Haledjian. “He or an accomplice is in this room, ready to make a purchase.”
How did Haledjian know?

Buying Guns at a Garage Sale? Am I inviting trouble?

Here is my situation. I found a couple of Mauser (Imported rifles from Serbia) guns for sale in a Garage Sale. Is it safe/legal to buy guns in a Garage Sale? My only intention is to use it as a display item on the wall. The guy showed me his firearms licence and he has proof of purchase and also agreed to give me a bill of sale too. But I don't have any types of license, nor do I know anything about guns. The guns are long, world war II type of guns with a knife at the end of the barrel. The guy says, they are very popular among hunters. So here are my questions. a) Am I fiddling with danger here? 2) If I end up buying those guns, will I be able to get it registered later? Both the seller and buyer in this case are illinois residents. 3) How much are these guns worth.Please advise.

He has a third gun which is winchester rifle. It has a small hole on the end. The owner says, it is an antique gun and he showed me how to push the bullet in through that hole with a metal rod.

Finally, he has an antique handgun kind of a gun. It looks old and the barrel metal is super thick. He says, he has no records for it and I must be super careful with it as it might get me in trouble. He says, it was used in the Al capone era. According to him, the gun barrel was chopped short for the ease of carrying it in their pants. He is asking $450 for it. Is it worth?

Thank you,

Is it safe to run the power cord of my flatscreen tv into the wall and up into the attic?

I don't know how to install a junction box. I have mounted my TV and I am running the 2 hdmi cables up and over so that they are hidden. It would be a shame to do that and still have an ugly power cord exposed so I need to either get an outlet installed or just cut a hole and run the cord it self up. I could then plug it into an extension cord and plug it into an outlet in the attic. Now, I know this isn't "up to code" and wouldn't pass inspection if tried to sell my house--but that's ok bc I would be taking the tv with me. However, what I want to know is if this is a fire hazard or not. I assume it is--which is why I haven't done it yet, but I thought i'd consult the yahooligans

thanks guys!

Is it still safe with no cellar door?

My parents have an under ground cellar but the door was old so they took it off. It's got concrete walls and is about 7 or more ft. under ground. My question is, is it still safe to go hide in there in case of a tornado or would they be better off somewhere else like an interior room?
I understand that they should replace the door asap but what if there wasn't anytime and had to use it that night?

Wild fires, a possible last poem.?

Smoke and ashes won't detour,
embers and charcoal, slowly keep score.
Eyes are empty, faces are black,
reflecting only fear, in CA, there's no lack.
No walls left standing, no doors, no locks,
devoursed by fire, a cardboard box.
Charred remains cradle the orange blaze,
black and grey fire, a halloweeen haze.
Millions evacuated, 2 known are dead,
names and faces, swimming through your head.
Pack up your belongings, take what you can,
don't know what you'll have left, where or when.
No place is safe, no places to hide,
the fire always seeps inside.
Cramped together, tucked in tight,
I guess we'll lay down here for the night.
Stadium seats, families in lines,
fire fighters and evacuees, dressed to the nines.
Curled up side by side, a sleeping child,
displaced and confused, tricked by the wild.
Living together, we sit sleep and stand,
families stay together, run hand in hand.

Dedicated to those displaced by the California Wild Fires.

New poem, please read?

Smoke and ashes won't detour,
embers and charcoal, slowly keep score.
Eyes are empty, faces are black,
reflecting only fear, in CA, there's no lack.
No walls left standing, no doors, no locks,
devoursed by fire, a cardboard box.
Charred remains cradle the orange blaze,
black and grey fire, a halloweeen haze.
Millions evacuated, 2 known are dead,
names and faces, swimming through your head.
Pack up your belongings, take what you can,
don't know what you'll have left, where or when.
No place is safe, no places to hide,
the fire always seeps inside.
Cramped together, tucked in tight,
I guess we'll lay down here for the night.
Stadium seats, families in lines,
fire fighters and evacuees, dressed to the nines.
Curled up side by side, a sleeping child,
displaced and confused, tricked by the wild.
Living together, we sit sleep and stand,
families stay together, run hand in hand.

Dedicated to those displaced by the California Wild Fires.

What is safer to surround a public/semi-public building/campus, a cyclonic fence or a wall?

A place such as a school, orphanage, elderly-care institution, etc. Leaving aside the cost, and considering factors such as surveillance-ability, prevention of unauthorized access,etc., is it safer to build a wall?

Can you wall mount any size plasma to plaster walls?

I used to have brick walls so mounting a tv was not a problem, but Im moving to new house with plasterboard walls, so is it still safe to wall mount a plasma tv? and if so what size/weight would be safe, I plan on buyin a 40inch.

Anyone know how to crack a stack-on strong box safe? It has a code and a key. Neither of which I know or have.

I'm not breaking into anyone's house or anything. lol. Its my bf's and he has something in there that is mine and he wont give it back. Just trying to get what's rightfully mine. Help please? He is gone for the weekend and it would be the perfect time to figure it out.

who wants to give it a shot?who wrote these lyrics? 10pt.?

Let's funk it up!

Relate, vacate, what's today's rate?,
In this day 'n' age ain't nobody safe,
Get'cha got'cha yo, who shot'cha?
I must warn ya, it's that way in California,
No one's givin', everyone's takin',
Who set's off the moves, you're makin'?
Huh, we're bringin' it, got you singin' it,
Hold on tight, cuz' this might sting a bit,

Now, bring it back

Yo, I gotta let my peeps know,
Cuz success ain't rated by how much dough you hold,
Ha, huh, huh, and it don't make sense,
To live your whole life for the dollars 'n' cents,
Cuz this greed is killin' us by the hundreds,
Ya sittin' on a million but ya still won' derin',
I guess happiness aint a fish you can't catch 'n'
Fool ya lookin' in the wrong direction,
It don't matter whether ya rich or not,
If ya gone, ya gone, ain't nothin' ya got,
It matters most in this circle of life,
If ya find your reason for being here,
If ya don't know, listen here, it's outlined in the book of life,
You want things to make sense?, take a U-turn, make it right,
For the two-triple zero, we come hummin',
My hand grippin' the mic tight,
That's how I'm comin',

[chorus]
All-the-way-live [x4]
Uh, feel the funk,
Make it rough,

It's just something that happens,
We try hard to deny,
You'll find out when it happens,
It's in the air tonight,
Here it comes now, fast like a gun now,
On the run now?
Turn to NUMBER ONE now,
Ya feet slowing, you're crazy,
And tired, come-back,

Hit me, sometimes, life is tricky,
The stickman comes along, to stick me,
Flick me, he cannot get with me,
Got saved 'n' got the victory,

Well who planned this?,
The Krutch don't miss,
With that funked out twist to get'cha on the canvas,
We be that ill-type,
But only when we grip mics,'n' T.F.K.
Be the squad that'll burn out the lights,
Like that, gettin' upon the drum track,
Crack back ya speaker stack to to be exact,
HE'S comin' keep ya eyes on the clock,
We rip mics of all types when we rock,
.. on and on and on, 'n' they'll be no frontin',
'cuz this is how I'm comin',

[chorus]

I wrote this poem few years ago. It is not publisher friendly but I like it. What do you Think?

Bloody Bathrobe

As you slit your wrists with razors,
As you feel self pity to yourself,
As your blood soaks up the carpets,
Do you think of us your friends?

As your eyes role up to heaven,
As we enter the room,
As you stop breeding.
Do you think of us you fool?

As we cry before your dying body,
As we dial 911,
As we turn to pasty ghost faces,
Do you think you’re the only one?

And was our love not good enough for you?
Do you think inside we don’t bleed?
Could you have lived for us?
And concurred depression that cursed disease.

It didn’t matter how you did it,
Hung or banged up by a train,
Or drink or an overdose,
Anyway is all the same.

You see we all have ways to kill ourselves,
Some tear up their delicate soul,
Some through addiction,
Others by playing safe life roles.

So as we stand beside your grave,
It rains forever more,
Think of us your friends,
But you cant anymore.

We kill ourselves in other ways,
So many to explain,
The dreams we failed to break,
The lack of childhood sayings,

Some by over consumption,
Others by bottled pride,
Some hide it with lack of tears,
Others by killing lies.

You dear child stand for all those that kill themselves a slow,
The friends we can’t rescue,
Their addiction cutting at them so,
Their faults breaking them to cold.

Life is a continuous funeral,
With 911 on speed call,
The rain always pouring,
The bloody bathrobe always on the wall.

By Crazygirl
Thanks will change that to breathing. It is typing error. Oh I used to be in a writing group but they said the poem was not reader friendly. It is different style to most of my poems but is still one of my favourites, and my friends liked it so that what matters most.
It is not autobiographical, thank God. It is more of a metaphor for how everyone kills themselves in their own ways. The last verse is meant to be dark. It means no matter how happy our lives may be there shall always be darkness and hurt. The Bloody Bathrobe is a reminder of that.
The 4th verse is meant to be technical. It is the friend asking the questions they never got to ask their friend. You can copy the poem if you like with my name of course. Sharing is caring. Thanks for the suggested improvements. None of my friends or family write poems so it is great to get constructive feedback.

How can I improve this short piece?

I've had my prologue written for awhile now, but I don't think it sounds right. I'm generally happy with it, but I don't think it gets across the fact that the character is speaking directly into a camera. It's an urban fantasy, set in the present and in the future. I'd appreciate any help with it, thanks!

13th April, 2081

Static. Flesh, sky, concrete. The horizon: a city. Flesh. Feet: running, tripping, pounding. More static. A face appears, young but etched with fear. Eyes darting about madly. He opens his mouth to speak but stops and swallows. “It started a week ago, this... this madness,” he whispers, trying to catch his breath. “Two or three people to begin with. They said it would be fine; just a little outbreak. They told us not to worry. Then it spread.” He stops and looks about again, panic flashing through his eyes.
“Most of us headed for the borders, but they refused to let us through. They left us to fend for ourselves,” he says, the bitterness obvious. Gunshots go off nearby, causing him to jump. A look of urgency spreads across his face as he turns back.
“People think that it is like the movies, but it isn’t. In movies, things look so easy. In movies, they hide out for a few days, weapons at hand, before a rescue attempt is made. It isn’t like that in real life. People leave you to die – they don’t care,” he explains, his voice hushed. “There aren’t many people left anymore. Not here anyway; they’ve all gone. Nothing is normal, nowhere around here is safe.” He pauses. “The dead bodies are coming alive!”
Static. Feet: running, stumbling, tripping. Cursing, scrambling. More static. All that can be seen is a wall, as screams fill the distant air. Static.