I think I might’ve barely dodged death there because the crowd during Kids, MOTHER OF FUCKING GOD I SWEAR. Also because I was near the barricade but I had an entirely awesome time despite my pancreas never regaining its original shape again.
Not!review but they played every song off Congratulations and Oracular Spectacular save four + a cover, which, BEST EVER OKAY.
I will now retreat to my lair of disbelief that I just saw MGMT live. Cannot deal at the moment.
“Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.” - SS/PS, CH. 12
I’ve got a stag weekend coming up and I’ve said I’m not doing anything more than a few drinks. I won’t have it. I’ll go home and watch Antiques Roadshow.
Why does everyone have to pretend to be stupid and not know long words?
My mum was Labour-voting, but wanted us to know we were important. Basically, everyone’s equal, but you, my children, are a bit better.
This is probably surprising to people, but I carry a lot of rage around inside me. People are always like: ‘Oh, he’s like my best mate’. Well, no. I am not your fucking best mate.
I’ve always tried not to be overwhelmed by size; I don’t think it’s helpful, and I don’t think it’s accurate. It’s just not truthful…I mean, ‘just because something’s big that means it’s better’, you know, I’ve never thought that. There’s no denying, however, I’m in The fucking Hobbit, playing the fucking hobbit.
A small crew of technicians, braving radiation and fire, became the only people remaining at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station on Tuesday — and perhaps Japan’s last chance of preventing a broader nuclear catastrophe.
They crawl through labyrinths of equipment in utter darkness pierced only by their flashlights, listening for periodic explosions as hydrogen gas escaping from crippled reactors ignites on contact with air.
They breathe through uncomfortable respirators or carry heavy oxygen tanks on their backs. They wear white, full-body jumpsuits with snug-fitting hoods that provide scant protection from the invisible radiation sleeting through their bodies.
They are the faceless 50, the unnamed operators who stayed behind. They have volunteered, or been assigned, to pump seawater on dangerously exposed nuclear fuel, already thought to be partly melting and spewing radioactive material, to prevent full meltdowns that could throw thousands of tons of radioactive dust high into the air and imperil millions of their compatriots.
They struggled on Tuesday and Wednesday to keep hundreds of gallons of seawater a minute flowing through temporary fire pumps into the three stricken reactors, Nos. 1, 2 and 3. Among the many problems they faced was what appeared to be yet another fire at the plant.
The workers are being asked to make escalating — and perhaps existential — sacrifices that so far are being only implicitly acknowledged: Japan’s Health Ministry said Tuesday it was raising the legal limit on the amount of radiation to which each worker could be exposed, to 250 millisieverts from 100 millisieverts, five times the maximum exposure permitted for American nuclear plant workers.
The change means that workers can now remain on site longer, the ministry said. “It would be unthinkable to raise it further than that, considering the health of the workers,” the health minister, Yoko Komiyama, said at a news conference.
“Trent Reznor sent over sixteen different musical sketches between three-and-a-half and eight minutes long. It wasn’t really scored to any specific point; it was just kind of like—he said, ‘Well, here’s an idea, and here’s an idea, and I was sort of thinking of this for this, but we sort of moved stuff around and edit things and sort of fit it.’ And then, that track started playing. I think it was track seven, ironically. I was in my office, and I was scrolling through a little MP3, and all of a sudden, I heard this weird, it’s almost like legati, The Shining, kind of like this odd dissonance, this guttural sound. And then over the top of it came this little piano melody. And I heard it and I said, ‘That’s the main titles.’ It was kind of astounding because it seemed to talk about this loneliness, the piano was this lonely—it was almost childlike, and yet it had this kind of seething anger, vitriol, that was sort of bubbling under it.”—David Fincher, on Hand Covers Bruise from The Social Network’s Original Soundtrack (via lucy-vanpelt)