We thoroughly enjoyed this run-down of the political alignments of every playable character in Super Mario Kart courtesy of Boing Boing. Like the title which the screenwriters from Story Break have proffered for some time, the nuances surpass partisan lines with generalisations that are probably pretty accurate in terms of wonkiness about one’s choice of strengths, weapon, steed or jockey. “Tanooki Mario I think would only care about kink-shaming.” “I think Shy Guy would be a foreign policy kind of person and like really anti-interventionost.” “All the babies are hypernationists, as they’re in their first stage of moral development.” What do you think? Can every choice be tribalised and politicized? This is all canon.

nevermore

Via Kottke’s Quick Links, we are treated to the versification of McSweeney’s contributor Ross Wolinsky in his piece The Millennial Raven, which is really rather on point and blast on-putting. As inviting and compelling with its galloping metre and rhythm to read to its mundane and inconsequential conclusion as the original (see also) narrative poem, we are made to choose what distresses us. Here’s a select stanza:

And the rumbles growing stronger; until I could wait no longer,
“Hey Siri,” said I, “I’m hungry, and so must gently implore;
But the fact is I was sexting, when so gently came a texting,
Slightly vexing, when it said my sushi’s waiting at my door.”
Put my shoes on, went downstairs—and here I opened wide the door;—
Just a flyer, nothing more.

jimi-jam

Our thanks again to Nag on the Lake for turning our attention towards party tradition that’s entering its fifth iteration, the mundane Halloween ball (Jimi Halloween, 地味ハロウィン)—organised and attended by adults wanting to celebrate the occasion (see also) but were not yet ready for the commitment to flamboyant and elaborate costumes. Instead, party-goers would dress for everyday situations and potentially awkward interactions, the outfits begging the question what-are-you-supposed-to-be and soliciting a satisfying answer of acknowledgment and understanding. If I were a judge at the event, I’d certainly award top honours to Man Face-Swapping with his Starbucks Cup. I did a thing. Many more relatable characters at the link up top.

argos navis

By way of a rather glum article on an extinct species of bird related to but far lesser known than the dodo, we are introduced to the concept of superannuated constellations (see previously)—the most veteran being the asterism of the Southern Hemisphere named after Jason and the Argonauts’ ship, itself developed from the Egyptian identification as the Boat of Osiris and named by the classical astronomer Ptolemy as one of the chief forty-eight described in his Almagest.  Due to the large patch of sky it occupied, it Argos Navis was broken up in mid-eighteenth century charts to its constituents parts Puppis (the poop deck or stern), Vela (the sails) and Carina (the hull).
Like a syllabary of obscure and unused emoji characters, there’s quite a listing of obsolete groupings from the century prior, many named by botanist, amateur astrologer and quack John Hill (*1714 – †1775) whose name sadly isn’t inscribed among the stars, much like our dead dodo’s cousin Turdus Solitarius (Rodrigues solitaire). Others that are now dissolved, merged or incorporated into presently accredited constellations, speaking to their age, include Globis Ærostatiscus (the hot air balloon), Dentalium (tooth enamel), Sciurus Volans (flying squirrel), Phœnicopterus (pink flamingo) and Officina Typographica (the printshop). Sadly too none of these fall within the tropics of the Zodiac.

spring forward, fall back

About a week ago I recall expressing my feeling of gratitude for not having to seasonally adjust the clocks (though mostly this is accomplished automatically and effortlessly with only our dumb and disconnected timepieces needful of our attention) not remembering properly how the change takes place so late in October, which I suppose only speaks to the disruptive and disorientating nature of the practise in the first place.

Though pleased with the outcome of the European Union referendum regarding the end of daylight savings time and leaving the seasons to the tilt and shift of the planet (albeit it was one of those non-partisan issues that everyone can support—reportage I think one might find on that new news channel spin-off that pledges to be Brexit-free), I was a bit disappointed to first be disabused and then to wake up to the confusion of the clocks, although for the last penultimate time.  For those who’ve known nothing else (despite complaints), we wonder how baked-in it is in terms of both programming and posture.

8x8

best in breed: national banks in Turkmenistan under presidential decree to fund efforts to enhance the pedigree of the country’s Alabay dog

call of the wild: scientist record the mating sounds of the Amazonian bellbird, which can exceed the noise-level of a chainsaw at very close-range

zodiac killer: a treasury of Persian demons

not the doral: Number One Daughter celebrates her tenth wedding anniversary at Camp David

yip yip: a couple’s admirably coordinated costumes

major arcana: Salvador Dalí’s tarot deck re-issued

augmented roman: a truly phonetic-spelling reform measure for the English language, bringing the alphabet up to forty-three distinct letters

roaming costs: researchers tracking migrating Russian eagles are hit with hefty data tariffs once the birds cross borders, via Slashdot