peace in war

usatoday.com
Stanislav Petrov, Soviet soldier credited with saving world from nuclear war, dies at 77
Stanislav Petrov was monitoring an early warning system from a bunker outside Moscow when the radar screen appeared to depict an inbound US missile.

Petrov, thinking that any U.S. attack should have involved even more missiles to limit the chance of Soviet retaliation, told his Kremlin bosses the alert must have been caused by a malfunction. He persuaded Moscow not to shoot back.

It was later determined that Russian satellites must have mistaken sunlight reflecting off clouds for nuclear missiles.

Petrov’s reward? He was chastised for failing to provide proper paperwork, he said.

Nikolai Andreévich: But Dad, Aunt Mary said to take me to the hairdresser’s-
Andrei: I’ll advise myself! *snips it helter-skelter*
*later*
Marya: What HAPPENED?!
Andrei: Uh, leave it to me… I’ll wait for the manager to get back and then HOO is he in trouble!
Andrei: *on the phone* Some IDIOT’S cut my son’s hair… yes please… there’s one other thing I uh, need you to do.
*hairdresser’s, while Marya is outside*
Andrei: I KNOW THIS HAIRCUT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU
Andrei: BUT MY SISTER’S OUTSIDE AND I WANT HER TO THINK YOU DID IT
Marya: *outside* Ah, good! he’s yelling at them.
Andrei: SO YOU SORT OUT THIS TERRIBLE MESS FOR ME
Andrei: AND I WILL PAY YOU DOUBLE
Andrei: ALSO YOU’RE VERY, VERY NICE PEOPLE
Andrei: *weakly* thank you.

i used to be better, i used to be better, i used to be better

i was lucky enough to see The Great Comet on broadway last week (Oak’s second performance as Pierre)!! and now i’m reading war & peace so,,, here’s a pierre

It’s January 2018. A new year has begun. The Imperial Theatre still lights up, the digital marquee showing “The Most Tony-Nominated Show of The Year!” The snowy posters outside read “Final Performance September 3rd!” The wall, showing the ensemble, is faded, but still reads “The Great Comet.” The barricades are outside the stagedoor, waiting for the show to end. Inside, the cast board, now dusty, is still up. The faint notes of the orchestra play from inside the theater. The audience members are living off of the pierogis in the theater. Standing near the stairs, Lucas Steele is still holding his “WOOOOOOAAAAOOOOAAAAHHH” note. There is scattered applause every few minutes. Dave Malloy sits in the orchestra pit, proud. The Comet never ends.