Cacık (Turkish pronunciation: [dʒaˈdʒɯk]; Ottoman Turkish: جاجيق; Arabic: لبن وخيار; Persian: ماست و خیار ; Kurdish: jajî; Azerbaijani: cacıq; Greek: τζατζίκι [dzaˈdzici] or [dʒaˈdʒici], anglicised: /zɑːdˈziːki/ or /tsɑːtˈsiːki/, /tsæ-/) is a dish of seasoned, strained or diluted yogurt, eaten throughout the former Ottoman countries. It is similar to tarator in Balkan cuisine. It is made of salted strained yogurt or diluted yogurt mixed with cucumbers, garlic, salt, olive oil, sometimes with vinegar or lemon juice, and some herbs like dill, mint, parsley, thyme etc. It is always served cold.
The ultimate source of the word cacık is uncertain. It is likely a loanword from the Armenian cacıg.
The root cac is likely related to several words in Western Asian languages. Persian zhazh (ژاژ) refers to various herbs used for cooking. Kurdish (Kurmanji) jaj refers to caraway, while Armenian taghdz (դաղձ) refers to mint. The suffix -ık is Turkish and is related to Armenian -ıχ (-ıg).
The CAC K100 is a mini-UAV developed in France in the 1990s. The company sells a reconnaissance variant, the K100/R, and an antiradar loitering attack variant, the K100/A. The K100 is of conventional aircraft configuration, except for an upright vee tail and a pusher propeller. It has no landing gear.
General characteristics
Performance
This article contains material that originally came from the web article Unmanned Aerial Vehicles by Greg Goebel, which exists in the Public Domain.
Okay
If you shed blood with me to this point, you deserve an explanation
For all the hell you've endured, while helping me reach my destination
And this effort to bless the nation
I've might had did more harm than good
But I've always showed you heart, this is just my but apart from would
Man I love the darkest hood
But also the brightest suburb
To think I would just despise the folks because I'm broke and white it's absurd
I'm told be tight you get hurt, but I don't hear my spinal spinning
Yeah we found some distribution, but bet the crying is just beginning
Cause these bright nights, could lead to dark days and vice versa
Even if Greg Street don't play, I guarantee you a nice purchase
Frankly, I'm quite certain I'm the livest fucker out there
I'm making love to the truth, inside that vocal booth without care
I won't even talk about stare
From angry illogic rappers
Cause every time they get confronted, they'll give you head than dap ya
This one don't really need a hook, but Shannon said it'll be a single
So I devote this to my life, so much more than a catch of a jiggle
Dark days, bright nights
For that outside in the night, you know what Bubba's life is like
Bright nights, dark days
For them broads that truly love me and hate to see me live this way
Dark days, bright nights
For when they say you can't live, fuck them, do it just out of spite
Bright nights, dark days
For every person without a voice that got something they need to say
See it's apparent that you know, there's a lot of folks that love Bubba
Not cause of any rap I wrote, they see something above gutter
Though, my pockets don't reflex that
It's my vision, and they respect that
Love comes in a form of a various drug, and I can't neglect that
So me and my folks get fucked up like six nights out of seven
That's the bright light of our lives
Like God's shinning light right out of Heaven
But at the conclusion of every session
I wish that Dark Day to expose
The plight of my situation, no blow, no dough for big shows
But still they see we this close from seeing the promise land
So that leads to another bright night, when all of us is college grand
Being loved by the moms and dads
Which some of us wasn't blessed with
You think we all born with two lovin' parents and a treasure chest
Shit, I was fortunate to be loved, by my paternal units
I'm gonna make their son a winner, fuck how bad it'll hurt I'm doing it
Even if I was to ruin it
Never with me and my heart part ways
We developed too strong of a bond, turning bright nights into dark days
Yeah it's true, I also do get praise from the other side of the tracks
You know, that dark days part of town, when they intentionally hide the blacks
Ain't got no reply to that, I said I'm sorry if I'm to blame
I tried like hell to sooth your soul by planting the facts inside your brain
I never once lied to the game, the acceptance of not one black dude
It's just Bubba that country fucker smoking swages and eating snack foods
Now every time they ask you, "why you live the way you choose too?"
Say cause Bubba set you right, the only one they loved, knew you
That leaves you with no excuse to settle with what they offer
He try to pay you the slave wagers, play that role, and tell them naw, sir
I'll probably won't even falter if you dismiss me as the demon
It is true, I am not you, my skin's the tone of piss and seamen
But if we fight this evening, I assure you, we'll both bleed red
And it'll take your whole slum and all your guns to leave me dead
Plus all that blood we shed what do nothin' but server their purpose