Like a dictator, huffishly looking over his hopeless country, Adam Toth mocks the entire world, which spins full of video-game-loving individuals. From Seattle to East Seattle – and possibly further – there exists a generation-spanning crowd of couch-surfing, controller-clenching gamers simply stunned by Toth’s November 12^th blog post concerning one “Crash Bandicoot.” All known acquaintances broke contact with the tube for a necessary moment of bewilderment, asking, in mass unison, “Adam, what the f**k man? Don’t you know that what escalates Mario Kart above Crash Team Racing is its arrangement of classic characters?”

Spectator blogger and New Zealand sheep rights advocate Adam Toth published his response to said quandary in his usual slick and shambling manner. Indeed, there pulsed between the lines of his text a low and humming mumble, which effectively hindered nearly all of my attempts to collect any direct quotes, save for the following: “Ripper Roo…dingodile…flame-throwing crocodile…start a revolution.” (Adam Toth, 11/12/09)

Revolution has struck closer and in timelier a fashion than even Toth could have imagined. Hell, I’d never even heard of Crash Team Racing until this week; at precisely 3:23pm on Thursday, I received my hourly Spectator Blog update (via messenger pigeon, not iPhone) informing me of said Bandicoot. Seriously, was this character made up? Created by Toth himself out of some sense of November boredom? Writing and directing award-winning short films doesn’t take up enough time for ya, Toth?

I mean, I saw those Crash commercials. I’m pretty sure I thought they were for Honeycomb. Now there’s a fuzzy little guy who knows what’s worth fighting for!

But not in this case. Apparently – somehow – in some world – this Australian, nap-loving, tiki-mask wearing, Wumba island-hating, belly-flop-supporting orange ball of devastating fuzz actually kept the attention of a select few Chicagoan youths. Toth, one of Nintendo’s faithful followers, flung wayward and far away from the rational path – the tech-savvy direction – of a MarioKart-lovin, Mid-east crowd.

And yet, ultimately, and to the greatest avail, MarioKart is real. It exists in the veins of a twenty-something generation of green shell-shooting, star-driving, banana peel-throwing, three balloon-battling racers, all heartily dedicated to the grounded, authentic memory of two plumbing brothers who dared to dream. It’s the kind of love that can’t be disproven through price settings or user ratings – this is about the generational value, care, and quality that comes with each of the eight, speeding, love-powered karts.

And what about Crash? Crash Bandi-what? Don’t waste my time. I have a Flower Cup to finish.