题目内容
Federal efforts to aid minority businesses began in the 1960's when the Small Business Administration (SBA) began making federally guaranteed loans and government-sponsored management and technical assistance available to minority business enterprises. While this program enabled many minority entrepreneurs to form. new businesses, the results were disappointing, since managerial inexperience, unfavorable locations, and capital shortages led to high failures rates. Even 15 years after the program was implemented, minority business, receipts were not quite two percent of the national economy's total receipts.
Recently federal policymakers have adopted an approach intended to accelerate development of the minority business sector by moving away from directly aiding small minority enterprises and toward supporting larger, growth-oriented minority firms through intermediary companies. In this approach, large corporations participate in the development of successful and stable minority businesses by making use of government-sponsored venture capital. The capital is used by a Minority Enterprise Small Business Investment Company or MESBIC. The MESBIC then provides capital and guidance to minority businesses that have potential to become future suppliers or customers of the sponsoring company.
MESBIC's are the result of the belief that providing established firms with easier access to relevant management techniques and more job-specific experience, as well as substantial amounts of capital, gives those firms a greater opportunity to develop sound business foundations than docs simply making general management experience and small amounts of capital available. Further, since potential markets for the minority business already exist through the sponsoring companies the minority businesses face considerably less risk in terms of location. Following early financial and operating problems, sponsoring corporations began to capitalize MESBIC' s far above the legal minimum of ＄ 500,00 in order to generate sufficient in- come and to sustain the quality of management needed. MESBIC's are now emerging as increasingly important financing sources for minority enterprises.
Ironically, MESBIC staffs, which usually consist of Hispanic and Black professionals, tend to approach investments in minority firms more pragmatically than do many MESBIC directors, who are usually senior managers from sponsoring corporations. The latter often still think mainly in terms of the "social responsibility approach" and thus seem to prefer deals that are riskier and less attractive than normal investment criteria would warrant. Such differences in viewpoint have produced uneasiness among many minority staff members, who feel that minority entrepreneurs and businesses should be judged by established business considerations. These staff members believe their point of view is closer to the original philosophy of MESBIC's and they are concerned that, unless a more prudent course is followed, MESBIC directors may revert to policies likely to recreate the disappointing results of the original SBA approach.
Which of the following does the author cite to support the conclusion that the results of the SBA program were disappointing？
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某人将10000元存人银行，期限为1年，年利率为12%，一年12次按月利率复利计息，则一年后可得到的本利和为()元。
My mother's hands are deep in cabbage leaves, her sleeves pushed up past her elbows, as she sifts through water, salt, and vegetable. Beneath her nails are saffron flakes of red pepper powder. My mother wears an apron; under it her stomach is full and round. The apron is blue with red borders. I remember she bought it one day at Woodward's on sale.
I sit at the kitchen table beneath a peach-painted ceiling and a chandelier with oversized plastic teardrops. Every now then I get up and walk over to the counter, peer into the yellow tub, watch, pretend to watch, and then sit down again. Across from me, the little knick-knacks my mother loves so much-ceramic flowers, Delfts-blue miniature vases, a figurine forever windblown -- are arranged carefully upon the window sill.
My mother's hands are thin-skinned, pale, spotted and freckled with age and sun. The nails are thick, almost yellow. A few strands of hair, not quite black, fall over her forehead and her mouth is slightly open, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth as she lifts and mixes the cabbage leaves. "Are you paying attention？" she wants to know, and I nod at ceramic flowers, Delfts-blue miniature vases, a figurine forever windblown.
Kim chee is pickled cabbage. Friends always ask me for bottles of the stuff: Mama Kim's special recipe, they tease. I pass this on the my mother and she grumbles and laughs, embarrassed, pleased.
My mother's hands lie in my lap and I touch them carefully, life them like small, live animals, fit them into the plans of my own hands, turn them over and think of crab-hunting as a child and a trail of overturned, shell-encrusted sea rocks.
Once I told my mother that I would like to photograph her hands, and she peered down at them, lifted her hands up to her face suspiciously as if seeing them for the first time. "My hands？ she asked, and I went and fetched some skin lotion from the bathroom. Her hands were too dry.
I had her sit on the couch in the living-room. The couch was floral-patterned and she sat in the centre of it, awkward, distracted. I took the pictures, head-to-tee shots, some of her hands alone. They lay limply in her lap. She held one hand with the other. She didn't know what else to do with them. I took the pictures. Every ten minutes or so she got up and walked to the kitchen, checked the oven, the various pots. My father walked by once, and joked, "How about my hands？"
The cabbage leaves are washed and salted and rinsed. This much I remember. A winter's sun floats in through the window, plays weakly with the plastic tear-drops, falls down onto the kitchen table, onto my own hands. I suppose they will soon look like hers.
I get up, restless, lean over the counter, try to concentrate. Every year for the last five years or so I have asked my mother to teach me how to pickle cabbage. Every year I have watched her hands, seen the aprons change, the stomach grow more round -- the cabbage leaves are washed and salted and rinsed. This much I remember.
I take the rolls of film to a friend who knows something about photography. He develops them and is impressed. He sees a small Asian woman, smiling hesitantly into a camera, lost among the flowers of living-room couches. She is tired and stiff. My friend doesn't even notice her hands. He calls the photos "real", I call them "disappointing".
The kim chee is just made so it is not quite ripe, but we eat a little of it at dinner, anyway. My father tells me his story about villagers who ran away during the war, as the bombs came down, with earthenware kim ehee pots in their arms. It is favourite, not quite-ripe kim thee story.
When the winter sunlight comes through the kitchen window, tear-refracted onto my own hands. I stop writing and put down my pen. My mother asks, "What are you writing？" And I tell her that I am writing about kim chee. She laughs, "You don't even know
Humans can distinguish about ______.
At 5:30 in the morning we are deep in a dark forest on an island in the middle of the Panama Canal. We've been out walking for only 15 minutes, but I'm already soaked in sweat.
As a colleague and I plod along, my head lamp picks out the occasional trail marker, but mainly the light seems to operate as a major local landmark for insects. Several mosquitoes have already discovered the delights of the soft parts of my ears, while others are slowly working their way between my socks and legs to be discovered later after much scratching. Suddenly a deranged roaring and barking starts 25m above my head and builds chaotically and intensity before slowly quieting after several minutes. Similar mad choruses respond from other areas of the forest. Hearing the dawn cacophony of howler monkeys always given me a deep sense of pleasure -- the joy of being back in the tropics. It may be a hot, humid place where insects, plants and fungi rule, but the phone and fax won't find me here. I'm free to watch monkeys, collect data and try to tease out a tiny piece of the great puzzle of life's diversity.
That diversity faces disaster, and every biologist has a horror story to tell. Each year many of us return to the field after a cold winter's teaching to discover that-our research sites have been destroyed and our experiments and study organisms have disappeared. We can see with our own eyes the mass extermination of the world's animal and plant life as forests, savannas and wetlands give way to farmland, housing developments and shopping malls. If current rates of habitat destruction continue, it is likely that we will condemn from a quarter to half the world's currently living species to extinction within the next 100 years.
Nowhere is life more diverse than in tropical rain forests, and nowhere is the assault on life more tragic. Scientists are only beginning to understand the complex webs of interdependencies among various species. Increasingly, ecological research in the tropics in revealing how dependent humans are on forests for a wide variety of important services, particularly regulation of the earth's atmosphere and climate. We may owe as much to the residents of the rain forests as we do our cattle, corn and wheat. Much of our understanding of tropical-forest biology comes from research on Barro Colorado Island, a 1,600-hectare dot in the middle of the Panama Canal. B.C.I. , as the island is affectionately known to the biologists who work there, is covered with dense tropical forest, which was declared a nature reserve in 1923. The Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute facility on B. C. I. , established in 1946, is a Mecca for tropical biologists, who work to uncover the complex links between the large variety of species that live in forests and to demonstrate the importance of these woodlands as sources for medicines and other products of incalculable value to humans.
The atmosphere at the research station is probably similar to that at Los Alamos, New Mexico, in the 1940s when a group of the world's top physicists were cloistered together trying to design the atom bomb. The justified the creation of a nuclear weapon by assuming it would provide the ultimate deterrent that could be used to reinforce peace in a democratic world. Similarly, the longer-term future of human civilization on earth is dependent on the earth's forests, which act as its lungs, livers and kidneys. That is why scientists on B. C. I. are struggling to unravel the mysteries of the forests before they disappear.
At first the forest in Panama just looks like a wall of green. Then you start to notice differences between plant species, and the sheer diversity seems suddenly overwhelming. Variations between plants are often subtle and only apparent for the short period of time that a species bears flowers or fruit. Slowly you begin to identify specific types and family groups such as the palms, heliconia
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