Adding, Multiplying, Dividing and Subtracting Fractions | Common Core Curriculum | Fifth Grade Math

I tried to do an April Fool's video
I failed'
Even my joke shitpost videos are long-winded'
Go figure

A T A L E O F T W O C I T I E S
Chapter 1
The Period
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of
wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was
the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of
Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had
everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct
to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period
was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities
insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative
degree of comparison only.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on
the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen
with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer
than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that
things in general were settled for ever.
It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and
seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that
favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her
five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in
the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing
that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and
Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round
dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very
year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs.
Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America:
which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race
than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of
the Cock-lane brood.
France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her
sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down
hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her
Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane
achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue
torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not
kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks
4
A T A L E O F T W O C I T I E S
which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards.
It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway,
there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already
marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards,
to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it,
terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of
some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered
from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire,
snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer,
Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But
that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work
silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread:
the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake,
was to be atheistical and traitorous.
In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to
justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and
highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families
were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their
furniture to upholsterers’ warehouses for security; the highwayman in
the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and
challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of
“the Captain,” gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the
mall was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and
then got shot dead himself by the other four, “in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:” after which the mall was robbed in peace; that
magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand
and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the
illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols
fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves
snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court
drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles’s, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers
fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much
out of the common way.