When we played Buenos Aires, we brought this all-girl band over from Portland called Calamity Jane,” Kurt recalled. “During their entire set, the whole audience—it was a huge show with like sixty thousand people—was throwing money and everything out of their pockets, mud and rocks, just pelting them. Eventually the girls stormed off crying. It was terrible, one of the worst things I’ve ever seen, such a mass of sexism all at once. Krist, knowing my attitude about things like that, tried to talk me out of at least setting myself on fire or refusing to play. We ended up having fun, laughing at them (the audience). Before every song, I’d play the intro to ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ and then stop. They didn’t realize that we were protesting against what they’d done. We played for about forty minutes, and most of the songs were off Incesticide, so they didn’t recognize anything. We wound up playing the secret noise song (‘Endless, Nameless’) that’s at the end of Nevermind, and because we were so in a rage and were just so pissed off about this whole situation, that song and whole set were one of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had.
—  Kurt Cobain on Nirvana’s only show in Argentina.

Long ago before the Calamity, the subsequent devastation of the Twelveswood and the split of the Sylph beast tribe in response to the summoning Ramuh, Diluxio was one of the Sylphs that escaped a Garlean invasion of Moonspore Grove in 1572. In the Legacy quest “Together We Stand,” he and his fellows Zoxio, Almxio, and Flaxio, assisted a duo of adventurers sent by the Path of the Twelve in retrieving the podlings that had been left behind in the chaos. Afterwards, they are all in agreement that even though the Garleans are backing them into a corner, things would only get worse for everyone if they summoned Ramuh. Diluxio in particular noted the recent changes in the demeanors of the other beast tribes, and described the effects of what would come to be called ‘tempering’…

… Cut to five years later, and he’s the main villain of the Sylph storyline, stopping at nothing to steal the Chosen One’s podling and raise it to be evil. This is what your brain looks like on primals, children.

Hit shuffle on your music device and list the first 10 songs. No skipping.

i was tagged by autisticsimon :^)

  • voice like a bell - gregory and the hawk
  • plans - bloc party
  • walcott - vampire weekend
  • dog paddle - modest mouse
  • not ever coming home - hellogoodbye.
  • naomi - neutral milk hotel
  • when youre gone / not to worry - margot & the nuclear so and so’s
  • mountain - the front bottoms
  • generator ^ first floor - freelance whales
  • wrong - kilo kish

uhh! i tag rottengone, nuerotypical, smugwort, utter-calamity, aoba-pup, and spikekat but its ok if you dont wanna do it! :^)

calamity-cain asked:

Oh another thing -- i know you're swamped with requests, but i would totally love a collage of Bowie's cute/dork faces. if you have enough pics. like when he's laughing or making a silly face, quirky moments, things like that. Just use whatever you think is best. Basically David being a precious baby <3 <3 <3

Sure! Oh my god, I have so many good pics for this, you’re not even ready haha

anonymous asked:

Has anyone ever been allowed to call you anything but Olmarq, Olmarq?

Oh well, yeah, I guess. Everyone has nicknames. My momma used to call me Oly, pop used to call me Squirt, and a lot of my school friends called me Marq or Marq-o.

My teammates, though, they’d go around calling me ‘Calamity Kid’, on account of all those injuries I caused…

…Guess it’s a better nickname than ‘the cursed QF’, heh, right? 

Jesus Freaks só se calam quando são silenciados pela morte. Eles sabem que até mesmo suas últimas palavras podem salvar vidas.
—  Loucos por Jesus - Lucinho Barreto

To be, or not to be, that is the question—
Whether ‘tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep—
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s Contumely,
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in all thy Orisons
Be thou all my sins remembered.