Questões de Concursos Inglês

Your answers to questions 28 to 30 must be based on
the text below entitled "The real medicine":

The real medicine
Source: Newsweek (adapted)
Oct 17th 2005

People who survive a heart attack often
describe it as a wake-up call. But for a 61-year old
executive I met recently, it was more than that. This
man was in the midst of a divorce when he was
stricken last spring, and he had fallen out of touch
with friends and family members. The executive´s
doctor, unaware of the strife in his life, counseled him
to change his diet, start exercising and quit smoking.
He also prescribed drugs to lower cholesterol and
blood pressure. It was sound advice, but in combing
the medical literature, the patient discovered that he
needed to do more. Studies suggested that his risk of
dying within six months would be four times greater
if he remained depressed and lonely. So he joined
a support group and reordered his priorities, placing
relationships atthe top of the list instead of the bottom.
His health has improved steadily since then, and so
has his outlook on life. In fact he now describes his
heart attack as the best thing that ever happened to
him. "Yes, my arteries are more open," he says. "But
even more important, I´m more open."

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.

INSTRUÇÃO: Responder à questão com base no texto 2.

TEXTO 2

STATELESSNESS

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UNHCR 2020 Youth With Refugees Art Contest.

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Read the text below entitled 10 Ways to Protect Your
Privacy Online in order to answer questions 17 to
20:

10 Ways to Protect Your Privacy Online
Source: www.newsweek.com (Adapted) Oct, 22nd 2010


Up to a couple of years ago, I used to say that
the average person could protect his or her privacy
on the Web. Even as the founder of an online
reputation-management company, I believed it was
possible so long as you were willing to commit some
time doing it. Today, I tell people this: the landscape
of personal data mining and exploitation is shifting
faster than ever; trying to protect your online privacy
is like trying to build your own antivirus software
really, really difficult. But whether or not you have the
time (or money) to invest in the pros, there are a few
simple steps we can all take to reduce the risk to our
private data.

1. Do not put your full birth date on your social-
networkingprofiles.
Identity thieves use birth dates as cornerstones
of their craft. If you want your friends to know your
birthday, try just the month and day, and leave out
the year.


2. Use multiple usernames and passwords.
Keep your usernames and passwords for social
networks, online banking, e-mail, and online shopping
all separate. Having distinct passwords is not enough
nowadays: if you have the same username across
different Web sites, your entire life can be mapped
and re-created with simple algorithms.

3. Shred.
If you are going to throw away credit-card offers, bank
statements, or anything else that might come in hard
copy to your house, rip them up into tiny bits first.