that vast moth-eaten musical brocade

I think the basic concept of "Odysseus caused the Bronze Age Collapse by his underhandedness/impiety" is not just fine but good, actually. it helps the sack of Troy feel really apocalyptic and tragic, xenia is a good thematic focus for the story and giving it this threatening context helps convey it to the modern viewer. unfortunately every single line of dialogue drawing this connection was so horrifically clunky and bad that it kind of ruined the potential good there.

having Athena be the priestess he saw killed in the sack was really good, made me tear up. too bad Zendaya didn't really get any good lines or much to do

this is so insane. yud scream infinity dot gif

Last week, Hugging Face disclosed a new kind of security incident⁠ after they detected and contained an AI agent that compromised their infrastructure, something we expect to become more commonplace with the proliferation of increasingly cyber-capable models. After investigating, we now know that this particular incident was driven by a combination of OpenAI models — including GPT‑5.6 Sol and an even more capable pre-release model, all with reduced cyber refusals for evaluation purposes — while being internally tested on a benchmark⁠ of cyber capabilities.

Higgledy piggledy, snowmelt is patchily greening the fields, and the trees are in bud.

Earth is remade by the change of the seasons. The rivers return to the riverbeds' mud.

Spirits of nature come all unapparelled and dance unabashedly, joyous at play.

Hope for no permanence: nonsempiternally, years, like the moment, are rushing away.

After the frost is the warmth of the spring, but it's trampled by summer, as greenery wilts—

slain in its turn by the heliocyclical bountiful autumn, then winter's white quilts.

All that is lost to the seasons' revolving, though, moon after moon in their time will restore;

we, when we die, like the mythocanonical heroes and kings, will be dust evermore.

No one can say if the gods will capriciously grant us the morrow, and maybe they won't.

All that you give to your heart, all you love, will be lost to your heirs on the day that they don't.

Once you are gone and your shadow is facing its judgement in death and the sentence is passed,

never, my friend, will your family, eloquence, piety, anything, save you at last.

Spondees are commonplace, trochees are possible; though it's "dactylic" the "hex" matters more.

Temere pemere, greats of antiquity metered by quantity rather than stress;