Last of all Húrin stood alone. Then he cast aside his shield, and wielded an axe two-handed; and it is sung that the axe smoked in the black blood of the troll-guard of Gothmog until it withered, and each time that he slew Húrin cried: ‘Aurë entuluva! Day shall come again!’

“Which made the jumpers’ suits larger and therefore reduced their descent rate due to the bigger wangspan.”

The only hipsters I respect are the guys still trying to pull it off in America’s B-tier cities. The Spokane bartender wearing suspenders in 2026 is purer of heart and nobler of character than anyone on the cutting edge of 2009

FRASIER CRANE: I told Dad I’d watch the Super Bowl with him tonight. NILES CRANE: You don’t know the first thing about football, Frasier. Name one position. FRASIER CRANE: Tight end? NILES CRANE: Well, thank you for noticing. Maris and I recently bought a tandem bicycle.

Duncan Keith once took a slapshot to his mouth in a playoff game. He spit his teeth into his glove, skated to the bench and tried to give the teeth to a trainer and skate back into the game. He was grabbed and pulled off the ice. He was back in the game 6 minutes later.

I think it’s kinda nice.

I kinda like this. Sharing the experience with an anonymous someone (smart annotations or not) casts the text in different lights.

Easy.

I owe Jacob Elordi an apology. During all the Wuthering heights discourse I thought we were talking about this guy, to whom I have a legit uncanny valley/fight or flight response (probably ancestral memories)

Is Fat Tuesday getting an anticipatory octave now?

I’ll admit I’m ignorant of what his “famous” ones are, but when I was 18 I heard the late Tommy Makem perform O’Driscoll (the host of the air) live in one of his last few concerts, and his rendition in medley with The King of the Fairies still haunts me.