听力原文： At present, 196 million people are on the Internet. That number is forecast to r

"contemptuous of" it?

y broken your new year resolutions to be neater in future, it will certainly make you feel better about your natural inclinations. Untidiness, hoarding, procrastination and improvisation are not bad habits, the authors argue, but often more sensible than meticulous planning, storage and purging of possessions.

That is because the tidiness lobby counts the benefits of neatness, but not its costs. A rough storage system (important papers close to the keyboard, the rest distributed in loosely related piles on every flat surface) takes very little time to manage. Filing every bit of paper in a precise category, with colour-coded index tabs and a neat system of cross-referencing, will certainly take longer. And by the end, it may not save any time. Your reviewer's office is easily the most untidy in The Economist (not entirely his own work, it should be said, thanks to the heroic efforts of his even untidier office-mate). But when it comes to managing information, there seems to be no discernible difference in the end result.

The authors of this book trawl the furthest reaches of psychology, management studies, biology and physics to show why a bit of disorder is good for you. Chiefly, it creates much more room for coincidence and serendipity. Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin because he was notoriously untidy, and didn't clean a Petri dish, thus allowing fungal spores to get to work on bacteria. He remarked wryly on visiting a colleague's spotless lab: "no danger of mould here".

It can also help make sense of things. Hearing depends on random movement of molecules: when they coincide with sounds from outside, they are strong enough to stimulate the inner ear. A bit of background noise on the phone enables our ears to filter out echoes. A slightly mushy photograph can be easier to understand. Music and art depend on mess.

Procrastination makes sense too. America’s Marine Corps, the authors repeat (several times), never makes detailed plans in advance. Leaving important things to the last minute reduces the risk of wasting time on things that may ultimately prove not important at all.

The authors are witheringly contemptuous of the bogus equation of tidiness and morality—for example in corporate "clean desk" policies. Disorder and creativity are so closely linked that any employer who penalizes the first sacrifices the second, they argue. America's professional organizers, a thriving and lucrative cult of tidiness coaches, are merchants of guilt, not productivity boosters.

It's all fine, up to a point. But the book has two weaknesses. One is that it overstates the case. The case for tidiness in some environments—surgery, a dinner table or income tax returns—is really overwhelming. The other is that the book is a bit repetitive and disorganized. Even readers who love mess in their own lives don't necessarily like it in others.

Paraphrase the sentence "the tidiness lobby counts the benefits of neatness, but not its costs". (para. 2)

ds and hedges, were rather enchanting. Most important of all, it was necessary for us to enjoy the fresh air in the countryside once a week at least.

______

njoyed the recognition, but insisted what they did wasn't so remarkable.

______

untries in which the woman's place is still in the home may find it difficult to take orders from a woman. But in the U. S. A. , 44% of the work force is female, and many women are judges, doctors, company presidents, college presidents, and entrepreneurs. It is important for men to respect a person who holds a position of responsibility and authority, whether that person is male or female. To treat a woman as inferior just because she is female is not only insulting but also out of step with contemporary American culture.

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not one of them. The chairman and "chief global strategist" of the Starbucks coffee chain prefers a Sumatra roast with no milk, no sugar and poured from a French press—the kind of pure coffee, in fact, favored by those coffee snobs who sneer at Starbucks, not just for its bewildering variety of choice and flavors (55,000 different drinks, by the company's count), but for its very ubiquity—over 10,500 locations around the world, increasing at a rate of five a day, and often within sight of each other.

Starbucks knows it cannot ignore its critics. Anti-globalization protesters have occasionally trashed its coffee shops; posh neighborhoods in San Francisco and London have resisted the opening of new branches; and the company is a favorite target of internet critics, on sites like www. ihatestarbucks, com. Mr. Schultz is watchful, but relaxed: "We have to be extremely mindful and sensitive of the public's view of things... Thus far, we've done a pretty good job." Certainly, as reviled icons of American capitalism go, Starbucks is distinctly second division compared with big leaguers like, say, McDonald's.

The reason, argues Mr. Schultz, is that the company has retained a "passion" for coffee and a "sense of humanity". Starbucks buys expensive beans and pays its growers—be they in Guatemala or Ethiopia—an average of 23 % above the market price. A similar benevolence applies to company employees. Where other corporations seek to unload the burden of employee benefits, Starbucks gives all American employees working at least 20 hours a week a package that includes stock options ("Bean Stock") and comprehensive health insurance.

For Mr. Schultz, raised in a Brooklyn public-housing project, this health insurance-which now costs Starbucks more each year than coffee—is a moral obligation. At the age of seven, he came home to find his father, a lorry-driver, in a plaster cast, having slipped and broken an ankle. No insurance, no compensation and now no job.

Hence what amounts to a personal crusade? Most of America's corporate chiefs steer clear of the sensitive topic of health-care reform. Not Mr. Schultz. He makes speeches, lobbies politicians and has even hosted a commercial-free hour of television, arguing for reform. of a system that he thinks is simultaneously socially unjust and a burden on corporate America. Meanwhile the company pays its workers' premiums, even as each year they rise by double-digit percentages. The goal has always been "to build the sort of company that my father was never able to work for." By this he means a company that "remains small even as it gets big", treating its workers as individuals. Starbucks is not alone in its emphasis on "social responsibility", but the other firms Mr. Schultz cites off the top of his head—Timberland, Patagonia, Whole Foods—are much smaller than Starbucks, which has 100,000 employees and 35m customers.

Indeed, size has been an issue from the beginning. Starbucks, named after the first mate in Herman Melville's "Moby Dick", was created in 1971 in Seattle's Pike Place Market by three hippie-ish coffee enthusiasts. Mr. Schuhz, whose first "decent cup of coffee" was in 1979, joined the company only in 1982—and then left it in 1985 after the founding trio, preferring to stay small, took fright at his vision of the future. Inspired by a visit to Milan in 1983, he had envisaged a chain of coffee bars where customers would chat over their espressos and cappuccinos. Following his dream, Mr. Schultz set up a company he called "I1 Giornale", which grew to modest three coffee bars. Then, somehow scraping together $ 3.8m ("I didn't have a dime to my name"), he bought Starbucks from its founders in 1987.

Reality long ago surpassed the dream. Since Starbucks went public in 1992, its stock has soared by some 6,400%

如徽之黄山，登黄山天下无山，观止矣!”这是明代大旅行家徐霞客对她的评价。“五岳归来不看山，黄山归来不看岳，”这是众人对她的赞誉。黄山，中国十大风景名胜中唯一的山岳景观，蜚声海内外，名至实归的戴上了“世界文化与自然遗产”的桂冠。黄山与黄河、长江与长城齐名，是中华的又一象征。

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