Miss Ashley Pants

Goldilocks was a lucky ass bitch.

All she had to do was forage for porridge and then determine which mattress to steal for her nap. Like most self-entitled American princesses, she didn’t have to worry about stuff like “Find oxygen, water, and habitable temperatures”. In that way, we’re all pretty lucky. For now. We get to breathe air. That’s a pretty big goddamned deal.

But many moons from now (waves hands mystically, tracing the curve of the earth) after we’re done murdering our own home (and maybe a few moons too), finding a breathable, liveable rock to reside on will be a more important Goldilocks condition.

Obviously, the respiration issue is Lilliputian compared to other stuff…

#priorities

But just for fun, let’s talk about… Kepler-186f.

Discovered Thursday, this unassuming rock ball indeed met said Goldilocks conditions planet hunters desire during their telescopic quests spent scouring the celestial seas. Our cosmic cousin – spotted by the Kepler telescope – is about ten percent larger than us, while its “sun” (a red dwarf star) is slightly smaller than our own glowing globe of leaping lava storms.

So, what’s it like there?

Because of its location, it’d be totally habitable according to one astronomer who also surmised it’d be “similar to dawn or dusk on a spring day” – because the average temp is just above freezing. Eh. That’s a bit chilly for my taste if it doesn’t warm up. But the fact that the landscape is thought to appear perpetually majestic makes that less of a deterrent somehow. Plus it has water and even sounds vegan friendly. One astronomer pointed out a fun fact: “If the planet is habitable, photosynthesis may be possible.”

(Thanks for the share, Clarity Claire.)

Great. So I can do my garden on Kepler. What else?

They say Kepler-186f “probably basks in an orange-red glow from its star.”

What a coincidence. I was just saying how it needs to be golden hour all day long – not just between 4 and whenever it ends (by which time I’ve already absconded to my apartment and drawn the shades as if expecting to become a WWII target come nightfall). There’s just something about that hospitably hued sparkling phase of day that – I dunno – churns those congenital homicidal proclivities into something more productive.

Like planning my new life on new a planet that’s- Quaaa?! How far away?

Oh. Ya know. Just about 500 light years away. In miles-

-that’s 3,000… trillion…. miles.

Whatever. It sounds too cold anyway.

Also, their year is only 130 days long.

Eff that noise.

Call me when they take pictures of the aliens living there.

(Light Year Trivia: If this planet blew up right now, how long would it take for us to witness it?)