Benjamin T-shirt With Checkerboard Stripe By Ak... Fixed

Each thread in the warp crosses each thread in the weft at right angles. Where a thread in the warp crosses a thread of the same colour in the weft they produce a solid colour on the tartan, while a thread crossing another of a different colour produces an equal mixture of the two colours. Thus, a set of two base colours produces three different colours including one mixture, increasing quadratically with the number of base colours so a set of six base colours produces fifteen mixtures and a total of twenty-one different colours. This means that the more stripes and colours used, the more blurred and subdued the tartan's pattern becomes.[7][10]

Benjamin t-shirt with checkerboard stripe by ak...

For centuries the patterns were loosely associated with the weavers of a particular area, though it was common for highlanders to wear a number of different tartans at the same time. A 1587 charter granted to Hector Maclean of Duart requires feu duty on land paid as 60 ells of cloth of white, black and green colours. A witness of the 1689 Battle of Killiecrankie describes "McDonnell's men in their triple stripes". From 1725 the government force of the Highland Independent Companies introduced a standardised tartan chosen to avoid association with a particular clan, and this was formalised when they became the Black Watch regiment in 1739.

Image Description: white woman , wheelchair user with short straight blonde hair, pink-clear framed glasses wearing black pants and black shirt with tan stripes and a black sweater. My hands are gripping the rims of wheelchair.

Image Description: Hailey, a young Native American woman with long, straight, brown hair, stands in front of a plain white background, smiling at the camera. She wears large square-shaped black glasses and a black t-shirt. She has a black nose ring and a flower tattoo on her arm. Her arms are crossed over her stomach.

Beaver Cleaver pauses, then continues: "No one herebelieves that you wanted to kill your own best friend. What was his name? Cowboy? It was harsh of the Marine Corps to strip you of your stripes forfailing to recover his body. I constantly reassure those who fear you because youhave blown away a round-eyed Marine. And I do not believe the reports that you runaround naked, that you sleep in mud, or that you are afraid to come out in the daytime. These stories are exaggerations, I'm sure." The Beaver's voice drones on in the dark. "We have hadhonest differences of opinions in the past, Private Joker, but I do want you to know thatI have always had a lot of respect for you." I say, "Talk smack to me." Someone says, "The Beaver sells roger copy smack!" Black John Wayne says, teasing, "Hey, Beaver, when we be talkingabout the bounty you got posted on the Joker's head?" I say, "J.W., don't argue with the little puke. He's noteven there." "You right," Black John Wayne says. "Yeah, youright. He not even there." The Beaver says, "Look, guys, I really do want to get to thebottom of this problem. It would be productive if we could clear it up once and forall. But I guess we'll just never know for sure. I only wish I could be morehelpful. Maybe this Captain you're talking about was killed in action. Orperhaps the Phantom Blooper got him." Someone says, "Bullshit. That Claymore was set up inside theskipper's bunker. That means that the Phantom Blooper can walk on wire." The Beaver says, "I don't know all the facts of this case, but Iam going to find out. I promise you that. I'll file the papers to request aCID investigation. They will file an official report of the alleged incident." "Just shut up," I say. "Just shut the fuckup." "What?" says the Beaver. "I'm sorry, I don'tunderstand what you mean by that."

The Woodcutter gets tired of humiliating me at Ping-Pong and hasretold all of his favorite parables and proverbs and tiger jokes--The tiger is more honestthan man, because a tiger wears his stripes on the outside, the United States is a papertiger powered by gasoline. Americans are ferocious tigers but they are helplessagainst determination, America is on the back of a tiger and is afraid to dismount, in theUnited States they have killed all of the tigers and the rabbits are in charge. I go outside to find Johnny Be Cool. Johnny Be Cool is in the water buffalo's bunker, feeding his privepossession. He's constatnly washing the bo, feeding it, pampering it. By village standards Johnny Be Cool is a man of means. He boughtthe water bo with his own money, earned as a shoeshine boy while on his spying missions,and he rents out the lumbering monster to farmers who are too poor to own a buffalo. Johnny Be Cool saves every piaster. Someday he will take a trip to America tofind his father, John Henry, that steel drivin' man. Johnny Be Cool watches the water buffalo eat. As the bo cruncheshis food lazily, Johnny Be Cool offers me a strip of sugar cane. Johnny Be Cool and I sit together in the moonlight, sucking noisily onour sugar cane. Johnny Be Cool encourages the water buffalo to continue eating bytaking out a small bamboo flute and playing a tune, close to the water bo's ear. The only other sound is the soft, rhythmic tapping of Song'stypewriter.

After the evening meal, still tired from our day in the fields butenjoying the relief from the tropical heat, the entire village assembles on the villagecommon, facing the giant banana tree. Sitting on top of the rusting wrekc of the French armored car is Bo DoiBac Si, a North Vietnamese Army medic. This is a relief for everyone. It meansthat we are not going to have to suffer through another reading from Mao's Little Red Bookby Ba Can Bo, our political cadre. Bo Doi Bac Si is an ernest young man, serious about his duties, yetfriendly and good-natured. He is wearing a clean khaki uniform with trousers andspit-shined black leather boots. Red collar tabs bearing a single silver star on ayellow stripe identify him as a Corporal. Attached to the front of his smallkhaki-colored pith helmet is a red metal star. A pet monkey sits on Bo Doi Bas Si's shoulder, playing with theCoporal's ear. Bo Doi Bac Si found the monkey on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Themonkey was dying and he nursed it back to health. He calls the monkey Trang--"Victory." The Corporal, along with his superior, Master Sergeant Xuan, arestationed in Hoa Binh as liasisons between the Front fighters and North Vietnamese Armyunits that march like army ants down the Ho Chi Minh Trail and draw supplies of rice fromthe village of Hoa Binh. The commanding officer of the NVA liaison detachment, Lieutenant Minh,a very popular man, was killed last month during a B-52 attack a few miles from thevillage. During the

studious type. Ba is the biggest, oldest, and strongest, a good-natured mindlessjock. In front of the assembled villagers Commander Be Dan inducts the Nguyenbrothers into the Liberation Army. The brothers try to look serious, but they're tooproud not to preen. They alternate between horseplay, giggling and pinching, andattempts to maintain a military hearing. The Broom-Maker presents each brother with a red armband made from redstripes torn from Saigon puppet flags. The brothers bow and put on the armbands. The Woodcutter reminds the new fighters that a lost rifle is harder toreplace than the man who lost it. He tells them the old story about the Frontfighter who lost his rifle during a difficult river crossing. Out of shame thefighter asked to be placed in the front ranks of his unit's next attack, where he diedgloriously. "Tomorrow," says the Woodcutter, "you will go on acombat mission far from the village. You will fight the Long-Nose Elephants. Fight bravely, with fierce determination. I beg you to carry out your dutiescleverly." The recruits brace themselves rigidly to attention as Commander Be Danpresents each new fighter with an AK-47 assault rifle and a web belt hung with canvaspouches heavy with banana clips full of bullets. Commander Be Dan repeats a Viet Cong slogan: "Brass legs. Iron shoulders. Shoot straight." While the Nguyen brothers examine their new weapons, the people of HoaBinh cheer: "HO! HO! HO!" The Phuong twins are the first to congratulate the newly eligiblebachelors.

White Night. When we feel safe we light little perfume bottlesfull of kerosene. The perfume bottles have been fitted with wicks held in place byshell casings. As we move down the trail the golden dots are like a string offireflies flying in formation. A shadow on the trail! The order comes back: danger, halt. "Dong Lai," says Commander Be Dan on his way up to thepoint to investigate. After a infinite or so Commander Be Dan gives us permission to bunchup. We move toward the bad smell. In the faint flickering light of our tiny lamps we can see the greathead of a tiger, still fierce, still beautiful, with teeth as sharp as the point of abayonet and thicker than a man's thumb. The eyes are gone. Theorange-and-black-striped fur is charred and burned. The huge claws are dug deep intothe earth. The powerful jaws are locked in a final tree-shaking roar of defiance. We all crowd in for a quick look. Even in death there is something royal about all eight-hundred-poundBengal tiger. We can all see the tiger, awesome in his final moments, roaring,pouncing, clawing at the fire that falls from the sky, strong and beautiful in a burningjungle. We see the tiger, wet with fire, fighting fearlessly against a power itcould never understand. Then the great

Looking back, I see a Marine Corps Captain, a squared-away honcho ofthe lean and the mean. Officers wear no rank insignia in the field, but his age andbearing, his neatly trimmed mustache, his hair high and tight, mark him as a captain. He's carrying a pump shotgun. Across his chest is a belt studdedwith all-brass service rounds for the shotgun. The Captain is wearing yellow pigskin shooting gloves, astarched-and-blocked tiger-stripe utility cover, a black leather shoulder holster with a.45-caliber automatic pistol, and aviator sunglasses. A wristwatch hangs from thetop buttonhole of his jungle utilities jacket. He is pumping his arm up and downlike a piston. "Go. Go. Go." The Captain has never seen a white Viet Cong. He looks at me andhe doesn't know what to do, shoot me or buy me a beer. The rule under Grunt Law isshoot first and forget about asking the questions. I give the Captain a thumbs-upand he looks at me like Moses looking at the burning bush. 041b061a72