SAN FRANCISCO — Not long ago the pink house at 1829 Church Street, in the Glen Park neighborhood here, hit the market for $895,000. It sold for $1.425 million — $530,000 over the asking price — in less than two weeks.
The story of this fixer-upper, with three bedrooms, two baths, linoleum floors and an Eisenhower-era kitchen, is in some ways the story of the moment in the city, where longtime residents complain that Silicon Valley money is basically ruining the place for everyone else. More wealth is concentrated in the San Francisco Bay Area than just about any other place in the nation.
Google alone, the story goes, minted 1,000 millionaires when it went public. Ditto Facebook. And Twitter? Some estimate 1,600. Tech worker bees are doing just fine, too, with average base salaries now north of $100,000. To understand how all this money is transforming San Francisco, for better and worse, look no further than this city’s hyperventilating real estate market.
As technology companies have moved in — more than 5,000 start-ups now make their home locally — the influx of well-paid workers has pushed rents and home prices through the roof. Worsening matters, San Francisco has also become a bedroom community for many of the young people who work in Silicon Valley.
Each day, Apple, Facebook, Google and others shuttle tens of thousands of their employees to work using private buses that have become a controversial symbol of rising tech wealth. (via The Housing Market With Nowhere to Go (but Up))
What’s gone wrong with the most successful idea of the 20th Century?
(via Anatomy of an Earworm)
Why do some songs stick with you so long?
Because everyone needs more cute puppies with outfits on their dash. :)
Why Hollywood doesn’t care who its action heroes actually are.
Combat is imminent at Caerphilly Castle. It’s a bright, chilly morning at the imposing 13th century fortification in South Wales, and we’re about to witness the kind of brutal violence this historic site hasn’t seen for half a millennium.
Huge, hulking men covered head to toe in glistening steel are sizing each other up, slicing immense swords through the air, or reacquainting themselves with the heft of their favorite axe. Visors are dropped with menace. We hear the fighters emerge before we see them, rattling sheets of chain mail echoing through the castle’s Great Hall before a long shadow announces another arrival. The courtyard shivers with anticipation as the arena fills with around 25 brutes.
A flag goes up, swords are raised, and any last prayers uttered before — wait. Someone’s missing. “He went to Morrison’s for food,” a voice ventures. “He doesn’t have time to go to Morrison’s,” another retorts. “Well, we can’t start without him,” a third decides.
And so the latest battle of Caerphilly is delayed while the missing fighter picks up provisions. There are a few more delays: Crowd barriers need readjusting; one warrior has a broken visor; another’s not wearing his helmet. But when war finally commences, it’s sudden and chaotic and instantly the stuff of George R. R. Martin’s most bloodlusty prose.
Steel kisses steel. Actual sparks fly. An axe snaps in half as it dents a helmet. A municipal garbage bin, carelessly left at the fringes of the fight, implodes in a sorry mess of dented plastic as four armored men collapse onto it.
I’m witnessing, from the far side of a flimsy rope, something much more violent than your average historical battle reenactment. These men are engaging in full-contact medieval combat in an open training session for Battle Heritage GB, one of two UK-based national teams that are part of a growing, if fractious, global society. More GBH than LARP, it substitutes foam weaponry for real steel and scripted acting for unpredictable scuffling, and despite the mayhem, operates under tightly controlled rules and regulations.
I was reading something this week, and I can’t remember what it was, but it was some kind of interview or something, and the person offhandedly mentioned that a moment of great success/when all eyes are on you is the most important time to thank the people who got you there, because then you’re sharing the light and spreading the success instead of hoarding it like some terrible monster. And when I read it, I was like, “That makes such healthy, perfect sense.” And now I just scrolled upon this Mr. Rogers thing and like, of course. Of course this beautiful man had that same idea and executed it so sweetly.