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The box sketch.

     “You can always tell it’s gonna rain when they coom this far up-river.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-06-11) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks heaps to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

BESIDES ALL THAT, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Some German guys on a Chinese teevee show do the 8-bit game dance.

Bees in slow motion.

A single Simone Biles jump in slow motion. Imagine what it must feel like to be able to do that. She got married to a man who’s twice as big as she is in all directions and he is also very strong and graceful; he’s a famous football player. They make me think of Jessica Jones and Luke Cage together, except happy. Jessica Jones… remember when the guy asked her if she could fly and she thought about it for a moment and said, “It’s more like jumping and controlled falling.” But Jessica Jones could really fly; her power was crippled by having her spirit broken by guilt over the accident that killed her parents and sister and, later, the ordeal of being mind-controlled by the Purple Man (that’s not love) (in the comics he was actually purple; in the teevee show he’s just David Tennant in his Scottish color).


Advice from a duck. (scroll down for full advice)

How to shave like your grandpa.

How to shave like /his/ grandpa.

Dinosaurs had a very low brain-to-body-mass ratio. This was reflected in their behavior.

Italian meteorite-size chart. (via Everlasting Blort)

This is the way the UFO conspiracy people are.


How to hang an ordinary spoon on your nose.

You don’t wanta end up lined in chalk. Anybody can understand that.

How we get wrenches.

How we get ticks. Or, as Ze Frank pronounces it with his mouth, dicks.

Alfred Hitchcock’s first sound film, plus another film.

One weird trick embalmers don’t want you to know.


China from the air.

“I’m sorry.”

Note the footrest.



“My poor race. What have I done?”

Arkansas officer, impatient with someone hesitant to pull over in a dangerous place, deliberately flips her car, then he explains how it’s all her fault because this is a normal thing he’s been doing for seventeen years. Also she’s pregnant. Oy.


The little girl wanted a Star Wars theme birthday party. Her father built this in the garage.

About Tesla’s turbine.

Whole billiard parlor walls come a-tumblin’ down.

Watch ice-cream melt. Some of it isn’t ice-cream, though.

The Bisga Fluid man.

How to lie on the internet like a rug.

How to drive people crazy about a nonexistent danger.

The devil you say.

“Come on, ladies, come on, ladies. One pound feesh.” I’m smiling so hard from this that it hurts a little just in front of my ears. That hardly ever happens.

Smiling and crying about these glorious ice skaters.

Uneven distribution in first million digits of pi. (via Cliff Pickover’s Reality Carnival)

When I worked at Brannons’ I often made a potatohenge out of old French fries on a dish atop the heatlamp shelf. You can pile things up out of almost any solid food; you don’t really need a special machine to make playtime building materials, but I like this. When I win the lottery I’ll get one.

Wear your helmet. But if he didn’t have the helmet on at the end, he probably would have seen the gate lintel coming. It’s a tradeoff, like the problem of drivers involuntarily driving much closer past bicyclists who have a helmet on, and protective gloves contributing to hand injuries of spinning and jerking machinery because people feel their hands are protected so they can put them where they don’t belong, and so on.

Speaking of which, some WW1 inventions: punch-knife-glove, knifeproof hat and knifeproof goggles. There was a Doctor Who episode about aliens brainwashing and infecting people with nanotech that made them grow swords from their fists, just like this. This is probably where the teevee people got the idea.

Xmastime forfeit game. Try it.

Q: What’s a presocratic? A: Tree-fitty, wit’ a side of grotchkes.

Life in pre-WW2 China. (12 min.)

This is from one of Juanita’s friends. “Run in two different directions and see who your dog loves more.” That’s the theory, but you can break a dog this way.

A new real-life electric personal flight device just as good as a jetpack but electric and relatively quiet, and clearly easier, safer and more intuitive to fly.

And a kind of belly dancing I’ve never seen before. Fascinating. Attractive and repulsive at the same time. More attractive than repulsive, but… I don’t know; I don’t know how to describe the feeling. Here, see for yourself:

Trouble in Limboland.

     “See, the hardest thing for me was leaving the life. I still love the life. And we were treated like movie stars with muscle. We had it all, just for the asking. Our wives, mothers, kids, everybody rode along. I had paper bags filled with jewelry stashed in the kitchen. I had a sugar bowl full of coke next to the bed. Anything I wanted was a phone call away. Free cars. The keys to a dozen hideout flats all over the city. I’d bet twenty, thirty grand over a weekend and then I’d either blow the winnings in a week or go to the sharks to pay back the bookies. Didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything. When I was broke I would go out and rob some more. We ran everything. We paid off cops. We paid off lawyers. We paid off judges. Everybody had their hands out. Everything was for the taking. And now it’s all over. And that’s the hardest part. Today, everything is different. There’s no action. I have to wait around like everyone else. Can’t even get decent food. Right after I got here I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce and I got egg noodles and ketchup. I’m an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.” -Henry Hill, in Goodfellas

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-06-04) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks heaps to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

BESIDES ALL THAT, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Eyes in movies.

People amaze me.

I hate lipstick. I hate it on people. I hate it just standing there in sight being a repulsive, uh, substance, its texture, the smell, the feel of it when someone, even your adorable sweetheart, kisses you with lipstick on; everything about lipstick is awful… But– I don’t mind crayons at all. Crayons are fine, though I clearly remember as a small child being frustrated by how fragile they were. They could break in your fingers just by picking them up, before you even touched anything with them, and they wore down so fast. I preferred ballpoint pens and regular pencils; I really enjoyed sharpening pencils with a real crank-type pencil sharpener. The big fat pencils they gave you in school were insulting somehow. Anyway, here’s Stacy Greene’s creepily magnified visual paean to lipsticks which, oddly, I enjoy looking at, the way a person who hates spiders might enjoy cringing at magnified pictures of spiders: (via Everlasting Blort)

As much as I hate lipstick (and cigarets), I have always loved cigaret lighters. My uncle Pat used to take his lighters apart, to the tiniest part, on the kitchen table and clean them and reassemble them with fresh flints from the drug store and fresh cotton packing, and fill them with fluid. He kept and cherished every lighter he ever had, from even before the war against the Japanese in the Pacific.


It was a different world.

A neat project. Also the narrator pronounces the word kibosh the way /I/ do and not the way they tell you you’re supposed to, so extra points. And I appreciate that he recognizes his physical limitations and hires professionals to safely demonstrate the eventual product; he gets professional roller derby women. I used to watch roller derby on teevee after school. How tough the players were. They’d elbow each other off their skates sometimes and barrel completely over the rails. That was a goddamn /sport/; not like all this boring baseball and football and basketball and volleyball and golf and fricking /swimming races/. Now I want you to imagine roller derby, the way it was in the early 1970s, but with jetpacks. The idea of it makes me think of the rollerskating ball game the kids play in their ground level slum in /Alita: Battle Angel/; Alita is basically a teenage girl /Astro Boy/. We could have that now in real life, here in what we got instead of the future we were promised. Jetpack Roller Derby.

A compilation of Thurl Ravenscroft’s low notes.




Well, I think they’re wrong about it being bad. It reminds me of Henry Cow.

Two videos. “Gender reveal goes wrong when confetti cannon fires into father’s crotch.” (And) “Ya just can’t put a price on the look on your child’s face when they see a black person for the first time.” (The history, though brief, is narrated agonizingly slowly. Turn the speed up to 2X and it becomes much better.)

Prettiest drone-flies-into-volcano video so far.


A collection of photographs of Japanese industrial fairyland pipe sculptures at night. (via Everlasting Blort)

The story of Aloha Wanderwell, an example of nominative determinism.

No chute. He just has to not miss the special net. (via NagOnTheLake)

No chute. And no net.

“Men love pterodactyls.” (This young lady is right about that. In 1981 I made a pterodactyl skeleton out of plywood (orange Black & Decker jigsaw on sale from Doug’s Hardware) and hung it in the old Fort Bragg (CA) library that real estate gangsters burned down in 1987 along with a dozen other buildings in and near town, including the historic Piedmont bar and restaurant, which I still miss. Men loved it. Librarian Sylvia Kozak Budd (R.I.P.) also thought pterodactyls were pretty cool. She knew all about how to swear at people in Italian by silent gestures of the hands and arms. She could speak fluent Italian with her mouth too. When she was young she was married to a rich Italian hotelier, an actual Count, who owned his own Italian island (like the Adriatic Sea island hotel and bar frequented by seaplane-flying pirates in the Studio Ghibli film /Porco Rosso/), but she left him over a private point of difference and chose to live in Northern Califonia and be a librarian. Decades after their split the Count came to visit Sylvia and I met him. (I had thought she was kidding about her entire life story.) He was a birdlike, sharp-faced, alternately intense and twinkly man in his fifties, in very expensive-looking shoes. He was interested in my hand-swearing and he graciously made suggestions and corrected my technique. He had a big voice for such a small man; he sounded exactly like Ricardo Montalban, and I could easily see why Sylvia, or any woman, would fall for him in the first place, Count or no. (via NagOnTheLake)

This driver doesn’t sound upset to me, though. I think he just got some great news on the phone, or won the lottery or something, and he just happily decided /I quit/, and turned around to take the truck back and give notice. I think everyone’s jumping to conclusions that he’s angry about something, and that might be because of all the stories lately about how badly Amazon treats its employees. He might be saying, /Shit! Shit! Shiiiiiiiiiiit,/ or he might be saying, /Yes! Yes! Yeeeeeees!/

Scroll down to the chilling Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.

The distant future.

The distant future. The year 2000.

Clouds on Mars. I didn’t know an atmosphere as thin as the one on Mars could have clouds, but there they are. Is it possible they’re space-weather, a faintly fluorescing aurora phenomenon that the camera enhances, like the way Juanita’s phone camera pickup makes some ordinary flowers’ colors look like dayglo poster paint? On Earth, you have to go up to 120,000 feet before the air is as thin as it is near the ground on Mars, and… Oh, I see in Wikipedia there are clouds on Earth that are twice that high, they’re called noctilucent clouds, they’re /not/ aurora phenomena but made of microscopic ice crystals, and they’re only seen at twilight, lit from the side when the sky below them is dim enough. So.

And “Mary, A Ship Won’t Sink; the Day the Soup Factory Closed in Amarillo.”


     “Vhere is money, Julie? Money for Toorkey house? he says. And then they end it with a bunch of superfluous emojis: pony, pony, pony, cricketbat, sad-face, tablecloth.” –Bill Bailey

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-05-28) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks heaps to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

This is a show with a nice small-town feel. Very early in the show Steve Gomes called to, among other things, rebut the Mendocino Village sewer district board’s weird letter to the editor of the AVA where they lied that Steve had frivolously sued them and that they won, and he talked a little about a solution to Mendocino’s major water problems, that he claims they rejected not because they think it wouldn’t work but because if it worked then more people would move here because there’d be water for them, and the board doesn’t want that; what they want is to keep charging people money and putting a cap on use of their own well water whose source is nowhere near Mendocino Village, because they can– or could, rather, before they lost the lawsuit they say they won… Y’know, I may be a little confused about the details. Ask Steve, he’ll tell you:

Calpella Cowboy set up a three-way call with a retired woman in Southern California named Bunny, mother of six, who to take her at her word is an Eskimo, which I didn’t think was even okay to say anymore, but apparently I was confused about that too. Cowboy read his story about Willits (CA) calories and talked about the stark misery of Arizona. Bunny also talked about Arizona: she went there on a church mission once, to an Indian orphanage to deliver a truckload of crocheted spiritually medicinal bears and meet, as she put it, the Chief. She also was personal friends with tough-guy actor Charles Bronson who used to stay at her father’s house when out on a movie shoot in her area (and who we learn elsewhere in the show, from an interview with an impossibly young and patiently incredulous John Belushi, was gay, as was Lee Marvin, and as were many other stellar purported machos in the L.A. of the 1970s, certainly not that there’s anything wrong with that).

There’s a mini-tribute to activist and truly helping/caring person Ed Murrell, who died last week. And an even mini-er but no less heartfelt note or two about musician/composer Jay Sydeman, also dead now. He missed rehearsal and the bass player went to get him; Jay died peacefully in his bed. He had a great visit with his grandkids and family just a little while before, and that was nice for him.

Sakina Bush sent an anthropomorphic story about the social sexy relations of DNA and RNA molecules. Scott M. Peterson provided the third installment of his epic work about genocide in Mendocino County. It got to be 1:30am before I reached that, though, so if he wants me to I’ll recap it earlier in next show. Paul Modic continued his Date With An Angel series of October-May-relationship erotica in a story titled /The Perfect Date/. There’s John Sakowicz’ poetic apology to the 17-year cicadas, and his brief condemnation of the Israeli apartheit situation, which is dire and outrageous, as usual; there’s some useful related information after that, including someone calling him a disgusting blot on humanity, or something like that, because of criticizing Israel for murdering children. And plenty more; there’s just so much. Comical sweary country music of John R. Butler. Some yodeling. Some lamentational war music, for Memorial Day. And it all ends with the first Firesign Theater album I ever bought, playing in all its glory of pops and scratches and soothing rhythmic Motorola puck-driven record player rumble: pur-roorm pur-roorm pur-roorm pur-roorm…

BESIDES ALL THAT, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Dire Straits – Brothers In Arms (live, with a string section, and tympani). (This is both the sleepiest and the most moving version you’ll hear. It helps to be able to see it.)

Bees up close and in your face. They’re not all the same. Some look like a chipmunk. Some look like a rabbit, or a foxbat. Some look like a schnauzer-dog in puffy headphones. I like the kind that looks like an old Russian woman about to cast a spell on you for trampling her hedge.

Real-life Elastigirl, for bendyness, not stretching out to any length, but that’s a cartoon; this is a person.

How-to: VFX in Flight of the Navigator. (42 min.) (Just skip around in it; it’s all cool.)

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Ride, Gunhilde, ride!

Predator and pray walking home after a tough day of acting for National Geographic films. (via Everlasting Blort)

This nutjob is Michael Flynn, the former national security advisor to President Trump.

Stick with it till the end. (via Everlasting Blort)

Japanese mascot characters stuck in places too small for them. One is held against the wall by the point of a table. One can’t get into (or out of) an elevator. They’re big. (via Everlasting Blort)

As if it was only yesterday: The Sands of Modesto.

A capella (say ah-kuh-PEL-uh) Star Wars.

For fans of /Watchmen/.

Bees with a brain smaller than a grain of sand can open a bottle…

…Whereas: “You’re in no condition to drive a golf cart. Don’t do it, man. Don’t /do/ it… He did it.”

A whole new level.

Can Malaria come out and plague?

The way they run on the water with their flappy feet to help take off.

Styles of ziggurat.

I love these buildings.

It was a different world back then.

I bought /Blood On The Tracks/ on cassette in 1976 and literally wore the tape out, so I appreciate this and can hear it properly inside my head. I think you can too.

This is what we in the industry call a shitload of mice.

When he asks, “Which one’s your favorite?” you’ll say through your smile, “They’re all pretty good!”

Whatcha doin’?


     “Great holy armies shall be gathered and trained to fight all who embrace evil. In the name of the Gods ships shall be built to carry our warriors out amongst the stars, and we will spread Origin to all the unbelievers. The power of the Ori will be felt far and wide, and the wicked shall be vanquished. Hallowed are the Ori.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-05-21) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks heaps to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

Besides all that, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Rabbit’s Blood. (5 min.)

For the Fort Bragg (CA) Bee City people: Free the Bee! (via b3ta)

Le Piano Vivant.

Fitzcardboardaldo: The Corrugation of Dreams. It reminds me of the cardboard animation in /The Science of Sleep/. (via b3ta)

Two worlds.

SNL – Welcome to Hell.

How to make neon signs. (This is a U.S. shop, not the Japanese shop I showed you last year.)

Art. (via Fark)


Fully stocked general store in B.C. abandoned in 1963, when the people just locked the doors and walked away. The store and all its contents have been untouched ever since.


Movie GIFs that go together.

The terms and conditions game.

She sells seashells down by the seashore.

Fun with goats.

From the air.

Frozen to death and then microwave-reanimated 1950s hamsters.

“Mister President, on the occasion of your birthday this lovely lady is not only pulchritudinous but punctual.” No-one ever called me /any/ of those things, though I am in fact frequently punctual.

The K Sisters – Java Jive.

Daisy Nafisa.

Gyrostabilized surface monorail patented in 1903. Photos are at the bottom of the article.

Cheese it! The train!

Or stand your ground.

And there you have it.

And further there you have it.

Stuck, A happy French prank. I think they must be sisters.

Hot dog.

Turtles all the way down.

Rerun: Kite-surfer flies over entire island.

Yes, wouldn’t it be nice if there were some way to do that.

Mount Ranier. (say MOUNT-ruh-neer)

Waves. (via BoingBoing)

“Wow, look at him go!” “He’s such a dream!” “Where does he come from? Where does he live?” “I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out!”

How we got music.

Loopist Kevin Olusola.

These terrific kids. All the /School of Rock Students Perform/ series recordings remind me of the old Mendocino Community School.

Tintin by Marabout. (right arrow, top right)

I love John Oliver more than Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedov loves Turkmenistani Akhal-Teke horses, but not in quite that creepy way. And there’s cake at the end, a magnificent cake, and the cake is not a lie.

I didn’t realize before, but Led Zeppelin’s /Immigrant Song/ is just /The Jitterbug Song/ from the stage play /Wizard of Oz/.

Soren Madsen: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly on Spanish guitar.

The Champion the Wonder Horse Song.

Technically that’s true: a sleeping bag is a sandwich.

Or it can be a treatment, or a quasi-sexual massage service.

Anti-predator vest for prey pets.

K&P – I said bitch.

Cat came back.

“Don’t get me started.”

Two comments: 1. Any weapon you haven’t mastered belongs to the enemy. 2. One slip or mistake or miscount in choreographed moves and everyone will regret the day for the rest of their lives, and the sport will be ruined by helmets and face screens and bulky body armor.

What. We’re insured for collateral cannon damage.


He ain’t got rhythm. What an incredible stage set!

Further Ritz Bros.


About the Ritz Brothers’ unsung effect on the world.

The voices of Rocky, Bullwinkle, Boris and Natasha, Dudley Do-Right and Little Nell, Sherman and Peabody, etc.

How we get bottles.

Lovely music for this.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

It’s like just before the /bumbada-bum bumbada-bum/ part, of the early-style Doctor Who theme, but it comes naturally out of the creature’s face. It knows it’s funny. It’s not a fart.


What do you suppose this thing is for? What does it do?

Man climbs rocks without using his hands. And he does it safely, too, with someone helping by holding a rope, which is nice.

Magician in space. (via NagOnTheLake)

Zoom out for all the lighthouses in the world. (via NagOnTheLake)

Pixabay royalty-free images (photos, vector graphics, illustrations, videos) for use in your projects; results for /sad/:

More exciting and wonderful than so-called real sports.

You say cicada, I say cicada.

     “The transition responsible for the pale blue color of liquid oxygen is the simultaneous excitation of two molecules from triplet sigma to singlet delta. The double excitation avoids spin forbiddeness.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-05-14) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

Besides all that, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Wouldn’t it be nice if it would rain in California, before the whole place goes up like a three-month-old Xmas tree in the fireplace.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we had real health care in the U.S.

The whale was exhausted and drowning tangled in hundreds of pounds of crab traps and ropes, and these people saved it. It’s like the old Jews used to say: The whole /world/ isn’t crazy.

Our outer limits.

Rerun: John Hyatt /Smashing a Perfectly Good Guitar/ (live on stage, 1993). In the late 1970s I had an amplifier that made my guitar sound very like this; it was extreme crunch/squeal vacuum tube distortion, like a furious little robot breaking its own hand squeezing the sound out of a stainless steel toothpaste tube. I had cut the amplifier circuit and power supply out of a then-old thrift-shop vacuum tube tape recorder and mounted it inside a speaker cabinet, and at first, before I got an electric guitar, I used a pair of heavy headphones clamped on the bell of my acoustic guitar for a pickup. Somewhere in all the moves I lost that amplifier. Tch. It might be time to make another one.

A page of illusion pages. (via NagOnTheLake)

SuperPixelQuest. (Wait till it loads, then click the right arrow in the cartoon, then again and again.)

This information doesn’t change my plans for myself (I don’t care what they do once I die: bury me in a trash bag, render me for chemicals, make a theater Yorick out of my skull; do as you please), but for people who have a traditional $20K viewing funeral in mind, there’s a lot you can learn from this pleasant expert on the subject. For example, there are different colors of embalming fluid, including a special red kind to replace your blood with (if they get to you fast enough and can still force it through) so you don’t look quite so ghastly, and they have little plastic things for your eyeballs with hooks on the outside of them to close your eyelids over so they stay closed and don’t spring open at the wrong time when the flesh dries out; they’re like the fasteners for Ace bandages but inside-out. Also, if you’re too bulky or stiff to dress they cut off the back of the clothes and just drape them over you and tuck the edges under because what difference does it make now? You won’t be getting up to answer the door and talk to the Jehovah’s Witnesses anymore. You can just lie there under your tent of clothes and be dead. (via

French flying.

Rerun: French pattycake cats.

How we get Uluru.

“Like Mrs. Winslow –she comes with a bible covered in smallpox.”

“My company is called Total Raptor Experience.”

Birds doing things.

People hoarding gasoline, not only causing the shortage but endangering themselves and everyone else.

It’s the insurrection, Charlie Brown.

Randy Rainbow’s latest.

“Dristan’s like sending your sinuses to Arizona.” They’re called sinuses because of their shape. Sinus is Latin for bay, pocket, curve, or bosom.

From the air. (via NagOnTheLake)

Hitting a moving target. It isn’t merely leading it, like leading a duck. You’re moving too.

Via Everlasting Blort.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Detroit, Michigan, 1921. “Where there’s smoke, there’s work.”

Chicago from the air, 1914. Imagine what this was like for the people waving down and pointing at this and that, in that time: magical dreamlike flying. (via NagOnTheLake)

Cute little tilt-shift L.A.

Not just in Ireland.

Antique dinosaurs.

Chem dubstep.

The 1934 Crosley XERVAC (say EX-er-vak). “Don’t be bald.” ($179.50 in 1934 is like $3,542 in 2021. Basically it’s a vacuum cleaner attached to a football helmet with a puffy rubber seal around your head. The theory was that it would suck the hairs out to make them grow faster.) (Here in the future there are many equally quackish products to cure baldness: a $270 hairbrush that has fifty cents’ worth of tiny colored lights in it, a hat with a coil of copper or silver wire inside, pills or tea or marshmallows made from the hair of very hairy animals (or, conversely, very bald fish), etc.×546.png

How famous painters might have designed a home. (via NagOnTheLake)

Victorian knitting.

Copper wire, solder and a marble.

Exciting day at the aluminum smelter’s. Flay rod’s gone out askew on treadle. (via b3ta)



Mayhem. I like the calm amused natural competence of the videographer calling the event.


All pop music is rearranged Sparks. (via b3ta)

Every one of these machines takes away another child’s job –a child like my grandfather in the early 19-teens. But it was dangerous work. One of the several conflicting stories I was told about how he got his crown feature, his one all-white Odin-eye, involved his being struck in the face on a daily basis with bowling pins, some ejected like missiles from the lanes, some wielded in fights with other jauntily be-hatted pinsetter boys.

Baby Got Bach. The highlight is at 1:06, when the tympanist loses control of his whanger (the heavy drum beating stick) which knocks the xylophonist behind him off her feet.

I collect the different versions of Baby Got Back. There’s a ska version, and a barbershop quartet version, and of course there’s the original, but my favorite is when Jonathan Coulton did it. Here he is live in a little club with just his guitar:

In 1926, Nikola Tesla predicted a future when /machines/ would set bowling pins, assemble appliances, unite and pacify the world by using walls of electrical force to defend whole nations. A future of beehive-like communist efficiency and matriarchal harmony, where mankind will trade wheels for wings… Hmm, when I was six or seven –six, I think– I traded my prize possession, a wind-up plastic rocket-car, for a rattly-noisy old-style skateboard and then flew off the skateboard into a shrub; that’s kind of the same thing.

No helmets or protection for hands or elbows or knees. No brakes. No spotters for cars on cross streets. Happy, carefree white kids only occasionally knocking off somebody’s land-yacht’s side mirror. All fun and games until somebody kills a bicyclist, but then, after a suitable period of mourning, let’s go again, why not?

I wonder, have this ridiculous big baby and her guest-book-scribbling camera goons been tested for those exercise drugs that make you act exactly this way? She’s in congress now, still acting like this, now lifting weights in the /Congressional/ gym. (I went looking for photographs of the Congressional gym, but it turns out to be against the law to take a picture in there.)

It is easier for a thread to pass through the eye of a needle.

41 micrometeorites in 2 minutes.

Luca Stricagnoli plays a little classical nachtmusik on a six-string banjo. He’s dressed up for it. He even has a toothpick in his mouth.


What. (via Fark)


Dangitall, nobody wants to work anymore.

I like the guy who does the car motor sounds with his mouth. Also the mouth-sounds girl with the eyebrows. And the mouth-sounds girl who makes a brass horn sound. But the people who pop their belly button out like an oogie squeeze toy and bend their elbows the wrong way and pop all the knuckles in their entire body (including their neck knuckles) just make me flinch back from the screen.

The Southern fart of destiny. Compare to vuvuzela or sports airhorn.

Way to sell the sizzle, marble-run ad. This reminds me of tennis shoe ads when I was little, for P.F. Flyers and Red Ball Jets, where the shoes in the ads would make a flash and a /boing/ sound and the kid would jump like a rocket. But in the real world they were just shoes made of canvas and rubber with no magical powers at all. This was an education for a lot of kids about media and commerce.

At least with P.F. Flyers you got the cool four-function ring (hidden compartment, signal mirror, magnifying glass, secret code circle).

Here’s another one. “Captured by spies. Follow dog!” Tommy runs like the wind, thanks to his P.F. Flyers and their patented space-age heel wedge.

Japanese gymnastic routine.

Forklift racers. (via b3ta)

Going literally like sixty in 1899 in an electric car. “As for the driver, the muscles of his body and neck become rigid in resisting the pressure of the air; his gaze is steadfastly fixed about two hundred yards ahead…”

It isn’t necessarily laziness. Maybe her back is bad and she can’t pull it by hand.

Motion Picture Magazine, 1911-1916 (with gaps).


An A.I.-generated house and real estate listing. (Be sure to scroll down through the interior images.)

And /A Remembrance of Aerial Forms/.


Traish LaRue and the Lemniscate of Gerono.

     “At first I didn’t believe it, that this woman who looked as fertile as the Tennessee Valley could not bear children. But the doctor explained that her insides were a rocky place where my seed could find no purchase.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-05-07) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

This show has poetry by Paul Modic, Notty Bumbo, John Sakowicz and even Robert Herrick (1591 – 1674), among others. Stories by Sebastian of RelatoCorto, Mark Scaramella (and others) of the AVA, Alex Bosworth, and more. A couple of extended music breaks are all about food and proper (and improper) food-related behavior, some of that related to your choice of food’s effect upon colon health, including truncated pitches for variousproject bik quack products to supposedly clean out that important often overlooked organ, by nature self-cleaning as the ear, the nose and the vagina, for example.  Here I refer you to Paul Theroux’s swell book Millroy the Magician, whose message can be oversimplified to the spiritual urgency to “minimize colon transit time”. And [I refer you to] the film Death to Smoochy, which I associate in my mind with the book Millroy the Magician in the same way as the films /The Prestige/ and /The Illusionist/ call to each other, and the films /Lucky/ and /The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot/ call to each other, and so on.

Besides all that, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

A trick. Where real life mirrors the trick.

Because it’s a funny deliberate choice to spell damn /damb/ I appreciate this. But it’s a nonfunny deliberate choice when cartoonists write /damnit/, as occurs sometimes in otherwise superlative comic strips (like Existential Comics, whose archive is a vast and deep college course in philosophy presented in a witty and fun whirl). It should be damn it or dammit. When you read damnit you hear, in your head, dam nit. I’m not trying to tell people how to do their jobs –it’s their art after all, not mine– but I’m sure I’m not alone in this. Again, damb! is funny and adds points. Damnit is annoying and subtracts points. It’s just my opinion; do what you want to do.

Utilize your leaves.

How Space-X builds their rockets so fast.

Skip ahead to about six minutes into the video for the launch.

As long as the chiropractor and the mechanic don’t break anything, this is a great deal. Compare it to any wedding costing hundreds of times more and involving more stress than anything in your life besides moving house, or a loved one dying, or getting fired.

Ted Cruz, the booger on the lip of democracy.

You know who’s creepier than that? This fella. (1950s nutritional advice from a clown.)

Project bike. You have nothing to ride but your chains.



Stormy Weather in color– The Nicholas Bros. and Cab Calloway. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this; when they leapfrog over each other to land in the splits down the giant staircase, I cry out in alarm and my hands fly up into the air to, I dunno, stop them. /GAAA!/ or /NO!/ or simply /NNN!/ Not /YEECH/; that would be reserved for if they were to actually split open in a bloody mess like a trashbag full of soup, which they are not and do not.

And these are not self-driving cars. When you see a rare story of a self-driving car making a mistake and bumping over a mailbox, and it’s presented as though that means self-driving cars are a bad idea, think of what a massively stupid idea it is for millions of people just like you and me, with all our maladies and tirednesses and preoccupations and internal distractions and quick little passions at something that just flitted across our monkey mind, not to mention glancing down to turn the heater up or change the channel on the radio or /looking away from the road entirely, to the person on the seat next to us, or even in the back seat, to see how they like what we’re saying/, all in the blender of traffic together, and four in ten of us on drugs and/or fiddling with the phone. There’s no comparison. And we’re never getting smarter or better at it; the A.I. are, and they’re looking in all directions at once, they can see in the dark and communicate with nearby vehicles and recite poetry at the same time– poetry in ultrasonic frequencies that repel deer from your path and even clean your teeth.

Electric chest weights.

Fly! Be free!

Trailer for a new movie about nuns with breasts.

“The universe is equal to the earth. I have heard this from elders.” Tribal people react to being shown the real scale of things. (I like it that the Hindi word for /good/ sounds like my Uncle Pat saying /OH boy/. It’s like Biff Rose telling that the Chinese word for /I love you/ sounds like /why me?/ You know, like the first thought is, She’s so wonderful, why does she love /me/? I love her so much. Or, God, this is awful, she’s a demon in sheep’s clothing, /why me?/

It’s an ad for a bicycle parts company, but it’s a nice little film about dogs. Don’t worry, nobody in this ever squashes the dog with a bike. (via Everlasting Blort)

Fascinating slow motion shots of starlings bird-bathing. Before industrialization the sky was often gray-black with these creatures. And they aren’t the only birds who murmurate, but they’re famous for it. Look up starlings murmurating… Okay, wow, I was so wrong. New York was infected with starlings as late as 1890 by Shakespeare fans who intended to introduce to North America all the birds the (U.K.) Bard mentioned in his plays. From an initial 80 birds, their population spread out and burgeoned to hundreds of millions in the early 1900s before eventually being cut back to manageable numbers by pesticides, climate change, shifts in food webs, the decline of horse shit everywhere, but mostly pet cats. True fact. People who complain that windmills kill birds conveniently don’t mention that thousands of times more birds are killed by crashing into glass windows and being predated upon by pussies.

Cool presence of mind. Though the slightest spark and you’ve had it, yourself.

Post-modern villainy.

Ray Bolger tapdancing three years before the cast him as Scarecrow, and probably why they did.

Aeroplanes accompanied by piano.

Snowboarding accompanied by piano.


T-Bone Walker.

Alphabet Rap 2.

rraaaaaAAAAAaaa. rrrAAAAAAAaaaaaaa.

I don’t think he (or she) is a fool. How were the kids supposed to know it would suddenly open?



/He/ knows who he is and what he’s got.

The female version of Mel Gibson calling a traffic officer /Sugar Tits/ but without the alcohol excuse and with conscious racism not whatever you call the other thing– sexism? or just drunk. Maybe she’s drunk, too.

Black and white.

Some talent. Taurin Circus. Fullscreen the cool promo reel.

Craig Stehr sent me the link to this. I knew a girl with ears like the lead singer’s. She had long straight blonde hair and the ears just poked straight out the sides through the curtains like truck rearview mirrors in a carwash. I always thought that was so cute. And for evolution purposes it’s probably a better design for a sound-centric predator creature or just for focusing on what you’re aimed at in general.

Here they are again.

Here they are again, again:

Queen o’ the May.

The human-for-scale reddit. (via TYWKIWDBI)

The sound of the cracking ice is my favorite element here. All the vignettes turn out okay for the subjects; you don’t have to be on the edge of your seat worrying for them. There’s a surprising number of interruptive ads, but that’s okay too. I never minded commercials at all when they’re clever. When I was small, and I’m thinking maybe four-to-six, here, and watching teevee in my grandmother’s house while the grownups were all across the alley working in the restaurant, I’d memorize the ads to perform for them when they came home. The cigaret ad songs, the situations; the Mr. Bubble ad in particular delighted me. And my attention was riveted to the series of Hertz rent-a-car ads where at the end a man and woman /fly down out of the sky/ to sit in a convertible car that’s speeding down the highway, driverless, expecting them. By now, to me, convertibles are horrible, almost as bad as a motorcycle, with the wind and noise, and belongings and bugs and grit whipping around and getting in your eyes and mouth, but if you could fly down into the car it would be worth all that, and the top of the car would have to be open, so… Of course, if you can fly, why do you need a car; and you’d need goggles and other protective clothing and maybe earplugs anyway, and a squirtgun against angry birds. But that’s now. I’m thinking about then. And it reminds me of when Jessica Jones is asked, “Can you fly?” and she thinks about it a moment and says, “It’s more like jumping and controlled falling.” Speaking of which:


May Day: I dreamed I was mauled by Pinkertons in my Maidenform bra.

     “That’s why we’re not allowed to film these ongoing activities. Because every time they open the Stargate there’s a chance something could go cataclysmically wrong.” -Emmett Bregman

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-04-30) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

About half an hour into the show one-time almost-CA-Senator and pilot Mitch Clogg called to tell his true story of rescue by helicopter cable from being lost and alone in the vast wilderness at 80-something. After a grueling hour of that, service veteran hobo wanderer recumbent-bicyclist Douglas Wayne Coulter, present with me in the studio, masked and properly socially distanced (six or eight feet away), spoke about his life and various damages and difficulties, physical and legal and psychological, and played a dozen of his original songs on a child-size Spanish guitar he bought earlier in the music store in the old Union Lumber Company building, and he sang and recited poetry till after midnight. And then there’s the whole rest of the show. This is KNYO-LP Fort Bragg (CA). Where else can you get radio like this actually on the real air? Nowhere, that’s where. If there’s somewhere else, tell me where; I’d sure like to hear it.

Also Juanita just got off work and found out her sister Margi in Florida died, so, pressing Send anyway.

Ahem. Here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Pantyhose as investment opportunity.

In hindsight, they could have just smashed it in the first place, put the pieces on the truck, and be halfway to where they want to take it by now.

How we get our eyes.×779/media/img/photo/2021/04/photos-week-2/a05_AP21105577493924/original.jpg

This is really how it works, and this person –these people– represent crooked financial organizations, not real people who just need a house to live in, and that’s why we all have to struggle.

And this shows what’s wrong with so-called standardized testing. When the cosmetics company tested the product by blinding rabbits with it, and then changing its composition so it blinded less than half of the rabbits in subsequent tests, it did not occur to them to try to set the rabbits’ eyes on fire. Or they would have. And we wouldn’t be here dealing with this now.

Jack London was /in/ London in 1902 and he had a camera and some film. (via NagOnTheLake)

London in the 1940s, motion-stabilized, speed-corrected, enhanced and colorized.

A useful skill.

Art. (via NagOnTheLake)


Hooray! They should do this on purpose– have a dog ready for every race. You hear how the crowd loves it. A dog adds value. (via

Dog and chicken chase. The dog is the chasee. (via EverlastingBlort)

Duck adventure. Spoiler: surprise! Happy ending.

The ducks that look like George Washington. (via

A stop-motion story about a bereaved mouse who is a tailor. It’s very sad, and there’s some sex, but these are puppets made of cloth, so you’ll be okay.

“Yaaargh! The decomposing organic matter that kept the sand from filling the cylindrical void is collapsing around me!”

This is what cooking shows all look and sound like to me. And so /what/ if it’s a toilet if it’s been cleaned right. /I/ would eat a (more-favorite kind of) ice-cream (orange sherbet/vanilla swirl) right out of the ice-cream box and skip the middleman, but there’s nothing hygienically wrong with mixing food in a ceramic bowl. I like the sound and timing of this couple’s relationship. It reminds me of a time Juanita and I were giving my mother’s British friends’ children a rather chaotic electrical science demonstration and the politely horrified woman squinted quietly to the air, barely moving her mouth, “What an /int’resting/ couple.”

This reminds me of a greeting card that’s been tucked up at the edge of my bathroom mirror for more than years, through two moves, where a Victorian-era toddler boy and girl are holding hands, walking in a place very like this photo, and the text was, “When two little children are on an adventure, and they have their little toothbrushes along, nothing can harm them.” Would that it were so. Also the two instances of the word /little/ in the same sentence was not jarring then the way it is now. Writing programs now aggressively flag that as an error.×795/media/img/photo/2021/04/photos-week-2/a07_1232262423/original.jpg

Speaking of which: /Celery: Nature’s Toothbrush, for Your Colon!/ (You’re supposed to eat it. It brushes from the inside out.) (But you can do it the other way. It’s your celery and your colon.)

Volcano and aurora. Up in the air they like to fly.

Dante’s vacation. (via NagOnTheLake)

Be prepared.

A short film beginning with the awful things men say to Asian-American women in bars. I think she should just slap him. That’s the way it used to be, when a man was being a jerk to /any/ woman, and it kind of worked. But”Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them,” so it’s ominous because uncertain. For example: I have only just learned, here in our dystopian science-fiction future, to not say Oriental anymore. I really don’t see anything wrong with it; it’s the first word that comes to my mind because it used to be the word, but unless you’re making a point about people who like to hurt other people’s feelings (and your audience grasps that’s what you’re doing, which you can hardly ever count on even if you’re only talking to yourself), it’s not the word anymore. And some men like to be slapped. They think that means you like them.

Speaking of which, rerun: Horny Angry Tango. “I cannot slap you back. Because you are a lady.” “That clearly is a double standard. But it’s prob’ly for the best.”

Art. (via NagOnTheLake)

Ten million.

Philosophers ruminate while urinating on automobiles.

Virus consulting.

And that explains it.

Infinite tower of books.

Cyberpunk farm. (via DarkRoastedBlend)

Further Soviet space graphics. (via EverlastingBlort)

Oh yeah? Well, this is /you/! BRAAAAPFG. Oh yeah? This is /you/! BLARGHPHT.

“That was amazing. Wow. My heart is racing. I feel great. That was awesome. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. Aww, he’s still there. [Susan seems to thinks the elephant is still alive] Look at his eyes. Beautiful animal. You’re a good old guy. A real good old guy. What an experience this is. Once in a lifetime. [A guide tells her she’s allowed to cry] What an experience this is. Once in a lifetime [Susan rests a hand on the elephant’s forehead] “I was practicing this shot all day long. He wasn’t sure what we were doing. Amazing. That’s just incredible. Quite a day. Two beautiful African elephant in one day. He’s so wrinkly. Wow. A podiatrist would love working on him.” [Then later, cutting off its tail:] “Victory! That’s my elephant tail! Way cool.”


Drone shots of Lake Baikal.

Unmitigated Bosch. (51 min.)


Kiss Me, I’m Irish! SNL.

Irish Traveler children. (via TYWKIWDBI)

Science-fiction authors by debut year.

List of Captain Haddock’s curses. Just scroll down. /Suffering seagulls and pyrographers!/ /Ten thousand thundering typhoons!/

How to ska.

That’s sewage; it’s a sewage pipe. And it looks like there’s a water pipe involved too. But what do you suppose is the matter with the brain of the person driving the truck? He’s not just having a bad day; this is a symptom of complicated problems that should prevent a person from getting a driver’s license or owning a gun or entering into contracts.

Little rosy-cheeked Mister Tritium. (Not trish-um, but TRIT-yum.)

“Mom says the pills must be working.”

2019 interview with boffo socko Randy Rainbow.

The littlest monowheelist steereth directly through the horseshit, emergeth triumphant. Now you say it. (via TYWKIWDBI)

Ancient Rome, what it really looked like. (via TYWKIWDBI)


Alan Parsons – One Note Symphony. There are plenty of notes; that’s just the title. (via TYWKIWDBI)

As if the musical saw weren’t cool enough, here are some things you can do with a musical saw and $40,000′ worth of guitar effect boxes.

“What you’re seeing now is called a pouch wobble. It signifies to females that these boys are ready for breeding.” Who can take a nice walk? The pelican can.

An interesting pep talk about some of Elon Musk’s projects. Odd that it doesn’t mention the very successful immense city-powering battery arrays like the latest one in Australia. Maybe it seemed to the video maker that was a given.

And Nathan Pyle’s /Strange Planet/ Instagram page, vignettes of a sort of Nacirema study for our time.



     “After seeing Earth from the moon, Neil Armstong said it changed his perception of humanity. Before, there were arbitrary divisions and strife, but afterward he only saw one people, all losers who hadn’t been on the moon ever.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-04-23) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

And here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

The Overtoosoon Mambo. Though in a situation like this where everyone is so obviously coming at the same time, screaming and fainting and throwing handsful of popcorn in the air, it’s hard to think of it as being over too soon. If it kept going at this level people would start blowing a fuse in their brain and, with the ambulances and paperwork and all, the technicians and the sweepers who fold the seats up wouldn’t get out of there until four in the morning.

“I don’t believe in Jesus but I sure do like his songs.”

Cat powers.

Cat Power.

Locke and Hobbes.

Three reasons to stop drinking.


All about Uranus. (15 min.)

All about a new kind of rocket being built to carry 100 people into space in one go. (8.5 min.)

The cool understated triumph of Ingenuity.

Hendrix on harp. (via b3ta)

Sophisticated lady. This reminds me of Flight of the Conchords.

Bounce juggling. (via b3ta)

Slow ploops.

Live people dancing like cartoons, seemingly not caring in the slightest about how their necks and backs and knees will feel tomorrow. Let tomorrow worry about tomorrow. (via EverlastingBlort)

Mermaid museum.

Whiskey alcohol XXX.

So many greats all there in one room.

Which one of these are you? Because I feel like I’m sometimes both at the same time, as well as the one who dug the ditch in the first place.

And “You’re doing great, baby! All right! And stretch, and stretch, and bring it up the middle!” A complete one-hour workout.

The old orb match.

Earliest known recording of Joni Mitchell, 1963, in a tiny radio station in Canada. She was 19 years old, and she was already Joni Mitchell.

34 basses are used in this, including a cello for a bass, some alone, some together. (via b3ta)

The A-B-C of the Owen Magnetic. The innovative 1916 /Car of a Thousand Speeds./ That’s a lot of speeds.

Here’s a carny clearly in the wrong line of work for his Myers-Briggs type. And no, it’s not racist to say carny. By the time it’s racist, and that time may come, to say carny, think of all the other things that will have piled up to make it impossible to just live and talk without having to constantly rehearse every possible conversation in your head to keep from saying something that some /carny/ might find offensive. Carny, carny, carny!

Racism cured.


The first treelike things before trees were not trees but giant mushrooms.

Portal. Still alive.

How to do it.

Rerun: Pentatonix medley of Daft Punk songs.

Incipient Monkees’ screen tests.

(Silent) WAHOOOO!

To protect and serve…

….And aid the helpless.


Things you can do in this era that previous people could only imagine, or paint, but even so they still had to imagine it. Yet I suppose this is just another form of painting.

How it got stuck, and how they unstuck it.

In 1913 this music caused bloody riots. From The Guardian: “The reviews were merciless. ‘The work of a madman. Sheer cacophony, bleagh! I hate it! It makes me want to strangle somebody!’ wrote Puccini. ‘A laborious and puerile barbarity,’ added Le Figaro’s critic, Henri Quittard.” First, no-one loves a quittard.


And click on and mess with anything that looks like a control in this fun music toy, if you call that music, and surprising numbers of people, young people usually, do. They drive for days to this desert or that to take drugs and hop around in the sand while music just like this, made in just this simple pushbutton way, echoes off the desert hills around them. Why put the miles on your car and your zories and take a chance on getting bit by a snake? But if you like it, it’s worth it, and that’s fine.



Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-04-16) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

And here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Zoom lens moon.

Dancing on the moon. Aww, the poor little guy. (1935, English with French subtitles.)

Mariachi serenade goes wrong. The Nylons singing /Silhouettes On The Shade/ is in one of my mix CDs for driving. You know how that turns out: the singer is relieved and elated —over the moon is the term– when he finds, thank Christ, that he’s on the wrong block. Unfortunately for /this/ poor little guy this is the right block. Shake it off. She was trash. Plenty more fish in the sea. C’mon, you already paid for the band. Stand up and sing. Have some savoir faire. (via b3ta)

“I was underground in a room making sourdough, and there were these like /higher beings/ walking around making sure we were making the sourdough right. Suddenly there was this /bad energy/ and the sourdough turned into paint. There was a feeling like you couldn’t do anything wrong, you know? and it was really bad…”

Well, that escalated quickly.

Scuse me, phenakistoscope.

Greenland tsunami, aieeee.

Tilt-shift mini-Moldova.

Time-lapse of 18 days of the Fgradalsfjall volcano in five minutes.

Art. (via NagOnTheLake)

Art. (via EverlastingBlort)


Mechnical art.

Get ready with a pen and a piece of paper. This man will teach you how to draw funny little cartoon people just like a real, respected cartoonist does. This might be the beginning of the fabulous cartooning career you have always dreamed of. You can do it. (15 min.)

Art dance. (via EverlastingBlort)

Silver-painted beggar children. This is poison for them, breathing it and having it on their skin. (via NagOnTheLake)

Speaking of which. (via EverlastingBlort)

Maps and legends.


Don’t you worry ’bout a thing!

Ze Frank: Trap jaw ants.

A whole free channel of terrific documentaries. (via DarkRoastedBlend)

1902 Denmark.

1930s New York from a car.

1930s New York from the water.

The 1935 Citroen Mecanophone. The world’s horniest truck.

Sophisticated French entertainment.

A day and night in Berlin in the 1920s.

This forest of collapsing old cars is like a scene in an old Walt Kelly /Pogo/ comic book where innocent toddler versions of the characters are slowly poling a flatboat through a dark swamp of pareidolia monsters.

A beautiful ad for sports pop and friendship. A floral paean to pop.


“Boys! Raise giant mushrooms in your cellar!”

…Speaking of which, here is the issue of Galaxy magazine where /Come Into My Cellar/ (the original title) first appeared. The same issue features Cordwainer Smith’s /Ballad of Lost C’mell/, and Fredrick Pohl’s /A Plague of Pythons/. (Just download the page. It’s a pdf.)

Brilliant, wonderful, sparklingly edited film about a doorman/bouncer who seems, for all his unexamined bigotry, immigration hypocrisy and collection of weapons, a sympathetic character, a good man fulfilling his responsibilities. You like him and his motorcycle-helmeted mate and you want their little family to prosper. Just ten minutes and you’ve been through the wringer.

Cat and Girl – Today’s problem.

The transformation of a pristine lake to a vast dead plain of trash, much of it decomposing drink bottles. There’s no reversing this, not in a thousand years. And it isn’t just here.

Time-lapse Google Earth.

Watch a cytotoxic lymphocyte kill a cancer cell. (via Cliff Pickover’s RealityCarnival)

Slow motion submarine explosions.

Tom Swift and the ultrasonic obliterator.

Skull machine. (via b3ta)

I don’t think he runs weird. I think he’s air-practicing playing a trap kit.

Puckering parkour. I’ll just tell you here that the boys don’t get hurt, not even a scratch, so you can enjoy it.

Video showing you how Gutenberg’s press worked.

Agostino Ramelli’s Theatre of Machines (1588)

How to parallel park. There’s a punchline.

Rerun: /OK Go/ shot this in NASA’s Vomit Comet in pieces, all slowed down and spliced together. A zero-G ballet play-date. Think of the planning and choreography and expense– and it’s worth it; it’s so fun.

“All righty. Let’s go. Game on.” “Game on.”

Irresponsible battery hoons. Or louts, whichever is used.

The tenacity of trees. (via the Anderson Valley Advertiser)

More computer animated old photographs. (via b3ta)


Each state’s most common cause of death that they keep covering up. (via DarkRoastedBlend)

Pax Antarctica. Two hours of Antarctican peace.

Development of /Coastway To The Heaven Zone Park/. (“AAAAGH! MY SOFT HUMAN BODY!” That’s how far I got.)

Another video article about the aerotrain concept. This one skips the kind that hung from aerial tracks.

Tape-pulling music.

Rerun: Juzzie Smith, audacious one-man band.

Ole! (say oh-LAY!) The guitar jugglers.

And paper animations. (via b3ta)


The dogs bark, the camels pass.

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-04-09) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

And here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

A page of madness.

A message from Humane Society International.

More volcano.

“Very unique collaborative creative innovation, eh. What do you actually do here?” “Do?” “Yes, what does your company exist to do?” “Well, um… Hmm…” They remind one of FrogHammer, the agency Richard goes to, to rebrand the New Burbage theater festival, in the second year of /Slings And Arrows/.

Philosophy Olympics.

Here’s what to do with your old family pictures.

Five-year-old boy walks away from kindergarten. Cops catch him and treat him like this:

A heavy metal-ized pig calling contest. The woman with the upper arms is the absolute queen of this sport. Honestly, she could quit her job and make a living at it, and buy a house.

Literal metal animals.

A man’s out taking his dog for a walk, and here are these rabbits tirelessly speedbag-punching each other. Or possibly slapping defensively at each other like a nerdfight.

Organizing the cats.

Electrical atmospheric sprites.

Blood. How it works. (10 min.)

These kids are so great. Everything they do is great. The Low Darts. Also the article explains what the song /The Weight/ is about in the first place.

Cute pet otter.

Geniuses of the Caribbean.


And I found it! The scene in Stargate SG-1 that I was telling you about last week where gray alien Loki (Asgard is their name for their race) wakes up restrained on his own examination/anal-probe table and, bewildered, goes, “This is all wrong.” But it’s different from the way I remember. My memory made the line come out more Woody Allenish than this. (The line is at about 1:50.) Though the expression on Loki’s face when teenage clone O’Neill zats him (at 0:34) exactly matches my memory.

Omega Mart commercials.

David’s Pizza.

A Godzilla movie made in 1991 where one man plays all the parts, including Godzilla, and makes all the music and sound effects with his mouth. I first wrote /Gojira/, because I thought that was the way real Japanese people say it, but I just looked it up and that’s not so.

Gojira is the name of a music band. Here’s one of their songs:

Dinosaurs, the true story.

Google News simplified to text. Applying this process to many other sites would make even dialup internet entirely useful again.

The evolution of car chase scene film technique.

Restoring a 1969 Russian motorcycle and sidecar. Everything, down to the original color.

Umbrella. (via b3ta)

The appliance whisperer. (via b3ta)

“These are my friends. I made them.”

James Taylor teaches you how to play Fire and Rain on guitar.

Boomers got the vax.

“I make the sound from like right here.”

Luca Stricagnoli’s latest.



“Remember the Black man who was bringing in his trash can when the LAPD kidnapped him after a white woman called 911 on her white boyfriend? Today a judge removed the protective order on the video the LAPD didn’t want anybody to see.”

…If the video on that page doesn’t play for you, try going straight here. And click the sound on.

“What could be more refreshing than Newport menthol cigarets?” And “Treat your taste kindly with Kent, the only cigaret with the /micronite filter/.” Just by the way, the micronite in the micronite filter was powdered asbestos. Also we learn here that every York cigaret has the word YORK printed on the side, so people notice what you’re smoking when you smoke a York. The woman across the room in the jacuzzi restaurant, for example, who is hot for you and signaling her desire to arrange an assignation by smoking her own York.

Run lines? Sure.


As for the bucket.

Musical toy train. The making-of follows the action.

Motorized rotating light sticks.

Long-trampoline gymnasts. They get progressively more amazing as the video goes.

And siphonophores (say sai-FON-oh-forz) of the deep.


Good Friday night: A dance to spring.

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-04-02) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

And here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Fun with dry ice, dish soap, glycerine and clamp lamps.

Eight minute drum solo. He tosses away the sticks halfway through and applies the hands-on method.

Walrus. (via b3ta)

Creep in 13 styles.

Blackbird in Mi’kmaq.

Imaginary friends. (via b3ta)

Beak to beak. Doorway in red.

Lands of lore. (via b3ta)


Louis Armstrong – Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego.

Music For a Found Harmonium on solo looped guitar.

Four cellists one cello.

Police Squad epilogues. (via b3ta)

Note: the inside man just walks over and /shuts the door against the situation/. I like to think that I would charge out and jump into the air and kick the guy in the general head-and-upper-body area with both feet at once into the street. Probably if I were really there I’d be afraid and freeze like these people, but I /like/ to think that’s what I’d do. I know how to do it; I did it like a thousand times on a punching bag when I was thirteen.


Miss Space.

Seb Skelly’s latest horn bit.

“I make the sound from like right here.”

The big trombone boy and his tiny momma. They are so happy together. They’re like a live-action cartoon. It looks like it hurts her to walk, though.



Voice recording for South Park. This is exactly how I imagined it goes. It reminds me to recommend again that you see their feature-length films (Bigger Longer and Uncut. Team America: World Police) and their Broadway musical comedy show about Mormons. (via b3ta)

Istanbul. Istanbooooool. Why they changed it, I can’t say.

A realistic train experience from the window of a toy train, where you are a passenger the size of your own thumb. Look at your thumb right now. That’s how big you are.

Mid century modern.

Submarine automata.

Boomers got the vax.

Fingerstyle Robot Rock.

“They are NOT habit-forming!”

Exciting Tokyo.

Hevesh5’s latest project.

Ice drums.

All Playing For Change videos. (via Everlasting Blort)

The Wrecking Crew. Full documentary film.

Rerun: Balance. I wonder if they ever hit themselves in their own eye with those, and then they’re out in the middle Australia and what do they do about that?


The only dog to break 40 seconds. Papillon means butterfly. That kind of dog is named for its butterly-wing-like ear-hair.

Fastest 147 in history.

The future.

The Louvre. All of it. Free. You don’t have to wait till Fridays to go painting in the Louvre.

Make your own Bayeux Tapestry thingy. (via Everlasting Blort)!/

Peter Kay.

The Watchers. (via Everlasting Blort)

All stains, that is, but the Human Stain.

“When lift plus thrust is greater than load plus drag, anything can fly.” (via

A person deliberately flew a toy drone slowly down into an erupting volcano in Iceland, camera pointed straight down. The drone can no longer be returned even for store credit, but it gave what life it had to send this video from the mouth of the bowels of Hell.

Electronic engineering cheat cards.

See? Think it through.

Wonderful DDT. It there anything it can’t do?

Rerun: This was in March of 2020. The sounds from George at the podium are the really funny part, for me.

Patton Oswalt on gay marriage and magic Green Lantern rings.

Flying around in the museum of pinball, I smell dusty stale solder flux, cigar smoke and salt-water taffy.

Boston Dynamics’ new robots seem friendly and thoughtful.

And The Hypnotic Eye, Episode 2.


In like a lion, out like a Chinese philosopher.


Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-03-26) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

And here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:


One of my oldest memories is a plastic lawn flamingo. I can’t quite recall where that was. In the restaurant? In the bathroom? My imagination is such that, now I’ve cast about for possibilities, and one of them was atop a Christmas tree, that’s where it settles and will not be dislodged. So why fight it? One of my oldest memories is a plastic lawn flamingo with a light inside it on top of the Christmas tree.


Primitive London.

Streetcars of St. Louis.

Acapella The Avengers.

About Pomplamoose, one of my favorite bands. I like it best when Natalie sings in whisper-French. (Just 12 minutes.)

This guy again. Isn’t he great?

A useful skill.

Another useful skill: editing in camera.

Starting to think.

Inspirational poster generator.

Live video from Fagradalsfjall, Iceland volcano.

And there’s a part in Deep Space Nine where a tough battle-scarred Klingon military general is standing in the hallway waiting for his wife to emerge from her spaceship. They haven’t seen each other for months. She comes out, just slags him with insults, out of nowhere: what an insect he is, and so on, while he quails. She turns her nose up and saunters away down the hall, and the general says to Sisko, “Isn’t. She. Magnificent!” I didn’t really think so. What do you suppose he’d say about this woman? He used up magnificent on that sweet little slip of a thing. The devaluation of language.

Women of World War the Second.

Over two hours of terrific music used in Cowboy Bebop.


That’s a good idea: Find the goddamn joy. (via b3ta)

Speaking of which, Robert Fripp and Toyah Willcox. (via b3ta)

An entire documentary about Joni Mitchell. (1.5 hours) (via NagOnTheLake)

Lovely vulture encounter in the sky.


In contrast to the story of Bubby, here are the 67 exorcisms of Anneliese Michel. Apparently demons can speak German too.

Find the bacon.

Perpetually angry hebephrenic nincompoop Alex Jones improved by adding metal guitar, bass and drums.

The way music videos used to be and possibly should be again. (via NagOnTheLake)

Get your bitch some chocolate.

/I’ve/ been to Bakersfield.

New York apartments. (via NagOnTheLake)

“We say yo ho, but we don’t say ho, ’cause ho is dis-res-pect-ful, yo!” Catchy.

It sounds ridiculous that the government is preparing to, essentially, buy rich people’s sea-level-rise-threatened luxury property to save them from maybe not being quite so rich anymore, but… No, it is ridiculous. Even with the explanation of the rationale. They’re rich; they can go anywhere they want. It’s not like they can’t see the water coming up. Look, water, coming up.

Time travel.

Making a wind-up marble race machine.

Wet route.

Eisenstein’s mother doing the dishes. (via the Anderson Valley Advertiser)

Nice strong fingers.

Othello fans.

This too is Paris, France. This is the part of France that people who metaphorically say they can see all the way to France would see if they were talking about real France instead of those parts of a person whose fancy dress doesn’t cover it from that angle. The underside, in other words.

Video and info about Fagradalsfjall.

Big foot.

I wouldn’t do that in those shoes. You have to come down sometime, and your ankles will snap like twigs. Frolic safely.

Cure for drunks. (via Anderson Valley Advertiser)

Moral stories.

Animated Far Side. I didn’t even know they made this. This is over 20 years old. And where’s Part 1?

Many mandibles make light work. Look at all these little things. So busy.

Oh, dear. “I did everything you said, but the boss still hasn’t asked me to lunch!”


Fluorescent finger dancing. It’s like how they do magic in /The Magicians/, whose magic wands are their many fingers. Remember the episode where they had to go to the South Pole for special training to do magic by merely saying things, in case they were ever captured by someone who taped their fingers down.

Everybody’s got a mask on, so they’re okay doing this.

Color enhancement, check. Pareidolia, check… (via b3ta)

Moped. (via b3ta)



A poem about plastic.

But this is real. A real living thing that looks like the bottle in the previous item– a living bottle with, ah, I guess those are kidneys or something, or maybe that’s the brain?

Supporting the Waterside Arts Festival.

Zhangjiajie Wulingyuan. What? Zhangjiajie Wulingyuan. What? Never mind, I’ll show you.

What if Gandalf took the ring?

And an hour or two of several other neat what-ifs.


Shih tzus in the mist.


Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-03-19) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

And here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Further fascinating demystification of the Antikythera orrery. (27 min.)

For the planets are in fact not gods and goddesses ruling the affairs of man and advising you to be cautious in dealing with a friend but simply colorful and interesting places, hands of a giant clock, and if our robots can go there we can go there, and they can, and we will. Not you or I, maybe, but people– the best, smartest and bravest people.

Adorable pedal cars and pedal tractors and pedal rocketplanes and so on.


The sound of his voice. I wish my voice sounded like that. I had forgotten all about this show. I used to like it. Columbo had his, “Oh, just one more thing...” Baretta has his parrot, Fred. (I don’t know if Fred is still alive, but there’s a 2014 article about how he’d just turned 100 years old!) And Banacek had, “There’s an old Polish proverb.”

Lenny Laks – All Pink Inside.

Dog in heaven.

Why do you suppose the mother is so tame and trusting? Albatross. (via b3ta)

Boojie woojie. Big smile.

This little girl has been playing trumpet on stage since she was too small to hold the trumpet up. I’ve tried to play brass instruments. I can’t even make a proper /fart/ sound.

Mouth sound effects maestro Michael Winslow’s demo reel.

AyoooO00Oooo. WAH-rah-RAH-wah-oowah-oowahyanah.

The lost sound.

“And just do this until no-one’s willing to be in a Zoom call with you.”

The gentlest boom boom boom boom you will ever hear. He’s not really going to shoot her down; that’s just a metaphor.

The annual blessing of the guns, maybe with WD-40. Look how /old/ some of the guns are. All different kinds. How many of them do you suppose have shot someone suspected of being unfaithful, or who was mouthing off, or standing too close to the wrong car, or who wouldn’t turn that goddamn music down, or who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Blessing anything is just childish superstitious nonsense, but /guns/?

Speaking of which.

Kryachik, Kvachik and Kruchik. Hinko, Dinko and Vinko. Qui, Quo, Qua. Etc. (Click on the map to make it big enough to read.)

All about what many in the film industry call Shithole Color Grading. They don’t like it, but they have to do it anymore, because otherwise we don’t know what country is being shot up here. We’ve been trained: this normal color is our place, and this other color is a shithole country, hence the term… It’s odd that I will go along with the conventional spelling for shithole, even though you think /shith-ohl/ when you see it. It still bugs me every time someone –a cartoonist usually– spells god damn it /goddamnit/, because that looks like /god dam nit/. If you take out the spaces it should become /goddammit/, goddammit. And homeowner flashes the word meow, so should be hyphenated to home-owner. Okay, from now on: shit-hole. Fixed. Also it’s ree-NAY-sunss, not REN-uh-zonss. And kuh-REEB-ee-un, for the people there: the Carib (kuh-REEB).

Whereas, no problems with the colors here.

Computer animated old painting. And scroll down for the next one too; just as good. (You might have to click the sound on.) (via NagOnTheLake)

My head hurts from /crying/ after the last little bit of this one. So good. It was awhile ago. I hope they’re still happy together and didn’t just start fighting right away and never be in the same orchestra together anymore because all men are bastards and all women are crazy. I hope they get old together and never get sick, and just get more comfortable and sweet with each other until they, I dunno, evaporate together into the sky, but how likely is that? Maybe that’s why we cry at weddings.

Electric guitar amplifiers of the olden days. Think of all the guitars gently weeping through these lovely old cloth-covered plywood boxes that you could cook an egg on because of the hot vacuum tubes inside. Here, do this: close your eyes, remember turning on an old table radio. Wait a moment. Smell that? That’s grease and dust from the air sublimating off the surface of the vacuum tubes. I love that smell. When my grandparents got out of the restaurant business they gave me the record player amplifier and it /reeked/ of that great smell, probably because of all the flour and cigaret smoke and pepperoni and stuff that had wafted through it over the years. You’d turn it on and it would all come back all over again, like the 1940s baseball games that came from the little boy’s haunted radio in that Harlan Ellison story whose title escapes me at the moment.

Julien Baker – Hardline.

See the space station with your own eyes.

How we get bicycles.

A happy song and dance about jumper cables. (via Everlasting Blort)

WAP in metal.

Recalls the Darling Mermaid Darlings. But everything about women dressed up for a swimming show does.

The lost sound.

A whole page of then-and-now-wipe collections. (via NagOnTheLake)

Know me by my instrument.

The people who were shot: Who they were, with pictures.

It is omniscient narration all the way up.

Nuns with knees. Knee nuns.

And there you have it.

1970s French science-fiction comic book art.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Happy. (via Everlasting Blort)


The birds. (via NagOnTheLake)

Uh-oh, he says.

Oh, so cute. And he eats the walls and doors too. He can’t help it. It’s in his nature.

“She wansa fight I’ll give ‘er a fight!” The big one built like a fridge got the worst of it, I think, but she doesn’t think that. She thinks she won, and she wants to go back and win some more, and she’s the one who started it by showing up to make trouble in the first place. The other one wasn’t even the one she was mad at. That’s the problem with situations like this: I watched the video, I read the whole story, and I still don’t understand it, except that bigotry and family pride is involved. Bigotry between Gypsies and crackers in this case. This is West Side Story (Puerto Ricans and Poles), Pizza My Heart (rival restaurant families), Warm Bodies (mortal girl, zombie boy): it’s Romeo and Juliette. “Two families, both alike in dignity, in fair [Wherever], where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

This is only 40 seconds long; you can hold your breath that long. It’s like the driver of the car considers his options for a moment and then goes, “Ehh, she’ll be all right. Let her get up by herself,” and continues on as if nothing happened.

What a dynamic photograph. It reminds me of Russel Crowe lifting the boy by his hand up over the back of the ship after the boy’s death-defying brave mission, shouting happily in the boy’s face, “/Tell/ me that wasn’t fun!” Skiing towed by a galloping horse, out of all the crazy dangerous things people do– I would do this. Even after the summer between 7th and 8th grade, tearing my leg open in a bloody 7-shape on the broken off steering wheel of the gravity cart, crashing into a Corvair coming around the turn the other way, from being towed downhill by an extension cord behind the neighbor kid’s bicycle. It hurt like hell, and it took 40 stitches, and worse than that it was mortifying, but /tell me that wasn’t fun/.×800/media/img/photo/2021/03/photos-week-1/a11_1231563266/original.jpg

The exact opposite of that. This is just idiotic.

And the further opposite of /that/. I don’t know how much of this is real, but the finished product is very dreamlike flying.

The paper.

Balls, said the queen. Ping pong balls.

Neat vehicles. The Birdseye Pea Car and hundreds of other things flickr’s algorithm knows you’ll like if you like that.

Snake-cloud, telegraph pole, railroad tracks. Rampant centipede, fallen ladder, flying tire iron. Teller of Penn and Teller telekinesing a Rhine card image onto a blackboard.


Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Art. This is like what William Gibson and Bruce Sterling I imagined video to be in /The Difference Engine/.

And Corgis. The periodic squeaky-toy punctuation is the heart of it. It’s a complex nearly choreographed interaction between nearly identical pets –I’m trying to stop from saying /both alike in dignity/ but, sure. Like with the wedding aftermath, see above, I think here it’s something like this: “/I/ am the boss.” “You are not!” *squeak* “You still here?” “/I’m/ not leaving, /you/ are leaving!” “I hate you!” “/I/ hate /you/!” *squeak* …But compared to the wedding, the little dogs are more– um– I dunno, I don’t have much of a vocabulary, just: Even with brains no bigger than a hazelnut, with the dogs, this isn’t impending crippling carnage, it’s a conversation. They’d be /horrified and miserably sorry/ if someone got hurt, not elated. They’ll be going in to eat dinner together later out of the same metal dish. They’re fine.

Hard reset.


Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-03-12) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back awhile.

A lot of dead people this show. Nearly the whole first hour. There’s a lot there, but the part that mainly sticks in my mind was learning that Lenny Laks, who just died Tuesday, had been the one first to come upon his long-time music-mate John Chamberlain dead on the highway in 2013 and then four months later he was also the one who found other long-time music-mate Antonia Lamb dead. I repeat what one of Lenny’s eulogists said about that: “Jesus! Poor Lenny!” See Lenny, Antonia and John, above, at a Hit & Run Theater event in a more perpendicular time for them. Lenny was a pretty big guy. You know how big a bass guitar is. Notice how on him it looks like a child-size regular guitar.

Correction: Nick Wilson read the above and wrote:

>It was Steve Davidson, not Lenny Laks, who found John Chamberlin’s body back on June 4, 2013. Someone got that mixed up. Steve told me some details back at the time, and I just phoned him to make sure I got the details right.

>Steve and JC happened to be in Santa Rosa at the same time, and saw each other at Trader Joe’s. Later, as Steve drove toward home he came upon John’s car pulled off of 128 right at the Mendocino County line sign. A CHP was there, and Steve stopped to see what was happening. JC was already unconscious and slumped over his steering wheel. The CHP officer said he had spoken with Jayce, who told him he was feeling very tired and pulled over to rest. He said he intended to continue onward after a rest. But he quickly got worse and lost conciousness while the officer was there, shortly before Steve arrived.

>The CHP called for an ambulance. Steve and CHP got JC out of the car and tried to give him CPR, but he was gone. The ambulance crew confirmed he had died, but they couldn’t transport his body until a coroner arrived on the scene. It took 3 hours for that, with Steve, CHP and a tow truck all waiting at the scene.

>Steve and JC were the closest of pals. They had played music together from 1970 onward, starting with Cat Mother. Their last gig was at the Mendocino Film Festival with Peter Barg and Franny Leopold’s latin music group, The Cumbaleros, just a week before John passed. Steve remembered that JC was in poor health at that time, and could barely climb the steps to the stage.

>I was a buddy of John’s too, and when I first arrived in 1970 used to share his bathroom and kitchen at the Elk compound while I slept in my VW camper in the driveway. I was 7 days older than JC. What a talented, smart, and caring guy. A genius at his graphic art and a very good musician, first on mandolin, and later on guitar and vocals.

>When JC passed I started a John Chamberlin Memorial Group on Facebook, where people could share memories, photos and tributes. After a few months, seeing that other popular locals had also passed, I repurposed the group, changed the name to the Mendocino Coast Memorial Group, and opened it up to honoring and remembering all of the locals who have passed. It currently has over 700 members, but it’s public, so anyone can go to it and see what’s there. Right now there are many posts about Lenny Laks. If you scroll down far enough you’ll find the original 2013 posts about John. Or you could use the search function to find posts mentioning him. Here’s the link.

>And here’s a link to a photo of John and Steve performing with The Cumbaleros on May 28 at the 2013 film festival. It was about a week before he passed.

Marco here again. Thanks, Nick! Okay, moving on. Here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

A sweeping bird’s eye view of a place with everything: bar/restaurant, bowling alley, theater. Add a radio station and you’re looking at my fantasy of what to build with a lottery payout, except the bar would be a soda and ice-cream bar. And the place would have a bathroom. You have to have a bathroom in a bowling alley or a rollerskating rink, for kids to smoke cigarets and for people to comb their hair with water from the sink. This kind of shot was impossible just a short while ago. Toy drone tech has literally leaped and soared in very recent years.

Stunningly beautifully edited weather.

Cleans up nice. Squeegee the dividers left and right.

And Chernobyl after all the excitement, healthy, natural, full of wildlife, by many measures better than ever. Except for the demonic kernel at the center. Stay away from there, children and squirrels.

Further starlings.

Artistic starlings.

Scrape art.


And other birds. “When people have the freedom to do what they want, they usually imitate each other.”

Ghost bird. It has a dignified air and every right to think it’s invisible; it very nearly is. Its egg, though. I hope the people left that alone. Oh! It only just occurred to me: was it straining to lay that egg the whole time, nose in the air, motionlessly squinching and pushing? Was it surreptitiously, silently laying an egg as big as its whole body? Or is it somebody else’s egg.

Her squeezebox brings all the cows to the gate.

Black and white minimalist photography.

Randy Rainbow’s latest.

I’m in. Hurry up.

Gears. This process of adding to it till it breaks, solving that sort of break then adding till another thing breaks, solving that… This is how the new (unmanned) rocketship projects work, why they crash so much and don’t seem to be discouraged. It’s always been a cheap shortcut for developing new engines and machines of all kinds.×1-gear-chain/614182/

Simple animations to show how the different kinds of engines work.

Human energy they thought you could store in a pickle jar.

Meeting ended by host. (Hover text: “I can’t wait until I’m fully vaccinated and can send messages in all-caps again.”) NOT WAITING. DOING IT NOW.

A German dance.

The old soft-shoe. This is like twenty years after he was Scarecrow in /Wizard of Oz/. My grandfather would dance like this in the restaurant kitchen. He was shorter and more powerfully built than Ray Bolger, but could glide. (via Everlasting Blort)

Charlie Chaplain, the roll dance.

Knee dancers. (Also German.)

Tucker Carlson, a giant smug racist human thumb with a face painted on it and a plastic wig.

Lynda Barry’s drawing show for drawers. My favorite cartoon character of hers has always been Romantic Rahoolio the Latin Lovar.

Was it the weird spy-lawyer who worked for KZYX who was the one who did this ridiculous psychological comic-terror project back in Vietnam? I wrote to the people who told me that years ago but they haven’t written back yet. I think his name starts with H.

I don’t trust my barber. (via b3ta)



Hammer. From the guy who brought you the karate-chop hand axe.

Gimmick costume band’s /Barracuda/. Pretty good.

Automated random Jazz drum ambiance.

Amor alien (alien love), by Laura Molina. (It’s a self portrait. The man is meant to be Dave Stevens.) Those are the Radio Free Earth colors, by the way. Back when several of my projects were under the Radio *Free Earth title (little radios stations, the teevee show, posters for Mendo Movies, etc.) I painted everything involved in highly contrasting fluorescent green and bright red. See now good it looks. (*The apostrophe ironically qualified it. Biff Rose said, “Free doesn’t mean anything unless you attach it to something: Free beer. Free hamburger.”)

“One could say it is lettuce. It is not lettuce. /You’re/ the one that’s being evasive.” (via Everlasting Blort)

Sex madness. (52 min.)

Oh, for fuck sake. Hell yes it’s the envy talking when I exclaim over how this demented elderly putz is a gazillionaire from people sending him all their money for this shit. Look, here I am curing your cancer by squeezing my eyes shut. Private jets, diamond mines, a hundred radio and television stations, and they don’t even have to pay taxes on anything because Jeebus.

Television from literally another world.

Analog video synthesis. This very machine made the video graphic of the plan to attack the Death Star near the very end of the first Star Wars movie.

Modular analog video synthesizer rack, each module labeled for its function. /War of the Ants/, for example, and /Marble Index/. Hover over the individual modules for power consumption and price (/Visual Cortex/ module needs 5 watts and costs $849. /War of the Ants/ uses half that power and coincidentally costs half as much.) In the middle-late 1980s I made something vastly simpler and less wonderful than this, but still pretty neat, to control an oscilloscope trace or a laser, one of whose functions was /Rotating Duck Foot/, just a step away from /Reciprocating Battleships/. This one, though– use both scroll bars or you’re only seeing a little bit of it. In use, there would be an attractive rat’s nest of wires going all over the front, between those holes.

Funeral beatboxing.

Three minutes of tsunami info.

Trailer for a new game.


Everything you need to know about inkjet printers. (Whereas everything you need to know about laser printers is, if it won’t print because it says it’s out of toner, find the clear little plastic window on the side of the toner cartridge and cover it with a piece of black tape. Shake the cartridge and put it back in. It’ll print 500 more pages.)

“The rejected script for episode nine of the Skywalker saga (Star Wars: Duel of the Fates), written by Colin Trevorrow and Derek Connolly, leaked online a year ago.” Andrew Winegarner worked all this time to make it into a graphic novel to read for free online all on a single scroll-page. The text is big enough; you can enjoy this on your phone. (via Neatorama)

The original Star Wars retrofitted.

Art deco laundry vans of the 1930s. (via NagOnTheLake, Everlasting Blort, and more)

What did she /think/ would happen?

Probably she thought it would be something like this.

From lots of ice to loss of ice.

Rerun: Art of the gag.

Ahem. This is painful because I have actually talked like this because it’s funny. There’s a term related to doing that: making fun of something cringeworthy by doing it. The term, um, hold on… Yeah, it’s the Law of Goats. It’s too bad, too, because it’s still funny but… Oh, never mind. And if you try to explain it, it just adds a fractal landscape of further goats.

These people screwed a toy quadcopter into a tiny Faraday cage and flew it between Tesla coils. This is a lot like what happens when a jetliner is struck by lightning and is safe. Screw your courage to the sticking place.

Sounds like a plan.

How to add a banjo-ish track to the mix when you haven’t got one.


They were just making sure. This guy was probably trouble, and you never know.

Rerun: The song in every musical that no-one likes.

I love them. I wish the sound was better.

And these ones too. It doesn’t really need the distorted electric guitar sounding trombone, but it doesn’t hurt.

Sonny Boy Williamson – Keep It To Yourself. (via Everlasting Blort)

Joshua King.

Air horn gun.

Balletic ice maintenance.

In the cold playing Coldplay. Snow on the fingers and strings and dogs.

Who wouldn’t want this? And if it had an electric motor and could go freeway speed… It would be a menace; other people would crash, from not being able to take their eyes off it.

Visual tricks.

Come back!

I think they’re both just really drunk.

Say your band’s name is Cannibal Corpse, and you’re having a meeting about who you should get to do your album cover art.

The fast thief flash-fried thick fish.

Letters from 1946. Get ready to notice that one of your eyebrows is stuck in the up position.

How to properly trim for sale a slab of muscle and fat the size of a briefcase. Over the years I’d puzzled over what a brisket is, having heard Jews use the term in movies. I knew it was some kind of meat food. It never occurred to me to look it up. “With a little bit of time and the right cooking method, even the toughest piece of meat can be made delicious. Brisket, which comes from the breast of the cow, is a great example; it’s one of the least tender cuts of beef, but braised, smoked, or slowly roasted, it’s rendered soft and satisfying with incredible flavor.” (20 min.)

Monolink – The Prey.

Every piano has 88 of these delicate Rube Goldberg machines in it, made out of little sticks and felt and hinges made of tiny bits of brass. And somehow they last a hundred years of being banged on and whacked around. Amazing. (via Cliff Pickover’s Reality Carnival)

And Max Forsetter sent this link. It’s about the things we throw away rather than just fix it.


Netiquette for stroonzes.

    “Never buy pants or a car in the rain.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-03-05) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back awhile.

The little bit you hear at the beginning of the recording is the very end minute of an NPR piece by David Rakoff (R.I.P.) and Jonathan Goldstein about written correspondence between Gregor Samsa (also R.I.P.) (of Kafka’s /The Metamorphosis/) and Dr. Seuss (R.I.P.), which you can look up using those very terms and learn about, or merely hear all of  just here:

Also here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right. (I’m not up to double-checking all the links right now. I used to even set each one individually to open a new tab, which added like twenty minutes or more to this process, right at the point where I’m /so done and over with/ this particular show and ready to put on the spaghetti and meatballs and start working on next week’s. Now I am loathe to even spellcheck. If something’s wrong, though, let me know and I’ll swat it with the electric moth-exploding badminton racket I got in Japantown for $2 a couple of years ago that actually still works. With the original battery, yet. Juanita and I were in San Francisco for some other reason and went in there, and…it was a phantasmagorical brightly lit vast tight maze of delights. A water-filled bird-sound whistle with a clock in the side. Propeller beanie-caps where you press both ears and the top whirs off and up into the air. Brands of candy that you haven’t seen since 1964. Bluetooth napkin rings with dental floss inside. A zigzag pair of pliers to ply around corners. Levels you can adjust to exact angles other than level. Now I wanta go back there, but I’m sure it’ll be like in Twilight Zone, where there isn’t even space for a store in that place, much less the right store, and you ask around and nobody knows what you’re talking about, but the camera pulls back and up so there are two space aliens with giant bulbous butt-shaped ice-cream-cone heads, seen from behind in a fog, silently watching you on the interocitor.) Anyway:


Damn you, bourgeoisie!

Historical side-eye. (via Everlasting Blort)

The sounds of this event from the different angles: Voices of interest, amusement, dismay or warning, crunching wood, scrape of metal. It reminds me of the scene in /Galaxy Quest/ where the ship scrapes fingernails on a blackboard, getting out of the space dock.

Put the phone down, put both hands of the wheel, pull over safely and /then/ go nuts weeping and loving that adorable puppy.

Key and Peele mouth sounds battle.

Ow… okay, but… ow. Ow.


The cursed generator.

Babushka cats. (via Everlasting Blort)

Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain plays Miserlou.

10,000 harmonics.

Madonn’, Vinny, get in there. Stop bein’ such a stroonz.

Fretless funk, Sean Angus Watson.

Patricia JANEČKOVÁ: “Les oiseaux dans la charmille”

Russian Irish dance. The flitter-flutter thing they do around 2:40-2:50– I think that’s the Russian ballet part.

Mistake waltz.

Ten levels of sleight of hand.

Ze Frank on crypsis.

Lost Property Office. (Cardboard stop-o-mation.)

Roy Clark died in 2018.

The fabulous lirone. (11 min.)

The $20 one with the corroded old strings actually is fine. Perfectly adequate.

Teevee used to be very different from the way it is now.

Nearly-but-not-quite-lost teevee show intros of the 1950s. /”Hey, Mulligan!”/

This probably won’t show up nice in your screen font, but: ΤΣΙΦΤΕΤΕΛΙΑ ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΟΥ ΚΙΝΗΜΑΤΟΓΡΑΦΟΥ.

Miss Cheesecake of 1951.

All the colors of the 1956 Buick.

Mafia talks ruined. “Oh, no. Oh, no, Andy, that’s terrible! Now he looks like a sleeping Musketeer!”


The old age rejuvenator centrifuge.

A gun whose ammunition is your own instantly frozen tears, so you can shoot the person who made you cry.

When he farts it goes /RING/.

How to make latex glove bagpipes.

Oh. Right.

It reminds me of the fight between Captain Kirk and and the Gorn. Or any Captain Kirk fight, for that matter. (via b3ta)

Time-lapse Colorado skies.

A plasma space hurricane.

Those are powerful magnets fastened to the ends of the battery, and the track is all bare wire coils.

A nice sample of some of the fine short subjects on the Dust channel.

Fireflies. (via Neatorama)



A lost year.

And how to delete your account. In whatever. Except that one, and that one, and those ones there. Those are forever. This is going on your /permanent record/, young man.


Waving the bloody kimono.

    “Did not the Abbe say: ‘Lost is that man who sees a beautiful woman descending a noble staircase’, and were not both these ingredients here, and ready to her hand? What else but a staircase could so perfectly set off the jewel she had made of Elfine?”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-02-26) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back awhile.

Besides all that, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Zoom way in and drag the picture around. This. Is. Mars. (kick)

Competitive trumpeters.


And this guy. (via EverlastingBlort)

Irises explaining themselves in iris time.

The tears. They burn.

Feminine hygeine product ad playlist.

Hysteria on Stylophone.

“…leaving them curled up in the feeble position.”


Vogon poetry circle.

Baron Munchausen’s dream.

Cat trap.

Water cats.

This is not a drill. (or) You know the drill. “Ahhh, you hear that cut? Ohhh, it’s drillin’ so good.” For people who really like drilling, and especially /watching/ powerful wet machines drill and be drilled. This reminds me of the beautiful video for Bjork’s /All Is Full Of Love/.

Rerun: Bjork – All Is Full Of Love.

Before and after: what Pluto looked like 25 years ago next to what it looks like now. Cleans up nicely.


Hazel Scott.



Never gonna burn you up. Well, that happened. Still, never gonna put you down. Ow.

The fabulous Baronton Sisters. Hooray!

I looked at all of them. I’m not ashamed. Entirely SFW.


Ghost town.

People living in pumpkins on the moon, for protection.

Who has enough money to ride in an airplane? Statistically, almost nobody. But just for a moment imagine you might one day be going someplace in an airplane. Here are some things to know. He doesn’t get to mentioning how much safer you are in a crash if you’re sitting in the very back. That’s where people survive when only one or two or three survive. But the information about cracker selection and voting on the position of the window shade is useful, as is the demonstration of why not to recline the seat.

And again with the light pillars? Yes, Sven, again.


E questo!

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-02-19) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back awhile.

What you hear at the beginning of the recording is just the very end of a presentation by linguist and accent expert Eric Singer and his team giving a tour of U.S. accents. That’s here.

Just about every time, after everything’s over and I’ve signed off and I’m so exhausted after working on the show all day and talking on the radio all night all hopped up on decaffeinated green tea and soda crackers (and sometimes chocolate covered raisins) that my very skin is buzzing, I wince over how at some point in the show I started explaining something and went down a ridiculous path with it and, lost and embarrassed, moved on. That’s okay. This time it was about people who are too picky about proper speech, for whom it isn’t enough that they understand exactly what you said, they want you to say it the way /they/ want you to say it. I thought of a great short essay by Stephen Fry on the subject, mentioned it and, on the way to say why, mentioned his part in a movie he was in, in order to remember his name, but found I couldn’t recall the title of the movie either, so, oy. “It starts with V,” I said, “Verdure? Verdigris? [no, red rather than green] Vendetta? No…” Close, though. Too close. “Natalie Portman is in it. It has that poem about the Gunpowder Plot. /Remember, remember, the fifth of November./ The mask thing…” Guy Fawkes mask, sure, it comes to me /now/, as well as the movie poster with the giant bloody V on it. V for Vendetta. It’s a terrific story, even though, as usual for movies, the movie is like the Reader’s Digest condensed version of the Wikipedia plot of the book, if not quite a travesty and two shams of a mockery.

Besides all that, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Fantasy and science fiction artist Rowena Morrill is dead. A particular book cover she painted comes to mind. The book was about a character named Lafayette O’Leary, an interdimensional traveler whose method of moving to other worlds involved a magical spell, a particular frame of mind, and a can of sardines. On the cover, O’Leary is flying on a magic carpet with Princess What’s-her-name, whose decolletage draws the eye. There is no doubt she is a mammal. One time back in the Mendocino Commentary days (thirty and more years ago) Judy Brown saw that on top of a box of my books and smirked? appreciated it? I said, “I like that. I like the way the flesh hangs on the bones. Look at her arms.” She said, “I do too.” I miss Judy Brown. She, like Rowena Morrill, was an art elf.

How it works.

How it ends.

Sounds of ice cracking. (via b3ta)

Sounds of metal crumpling. (via b3ta)

Yma Sumac, the Peruvian Songbird, sings /Chuncho/. It’s a lie that she was just from Brooklyn and her real name was Amy Camus, (Yma Sumac backwards). She was born Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chávarri del Castillo on September 10, 1922 in Ichocan, an indigenous village in Cajamarca, Peru, and her vocal range went from low foghorn all the way up to fingernails on a blackboard, which you hear in this recording, whose technology was unequal to the task, but they did the best they could.

Tabletop Marx generator.

Il Showdown a Rio Jawbone.

Pill bucket. Escape. Vendetta guy problem, Florida retirement apartments, Major Hoople (Slavic Douglas Roycroft), etc.

A century of UFO sightings. Why do you suppose they mainly only mess with the U.S.? Trailer parks, maybe.


Little Barb.


Ice capades.

The scene in /X-Men: Apocalypse/ where Quicksilver saves everyone.

Neither the time nor the place.

There can be only one. “Do you have any idea how long it took for me to infiltrate this group? Do you think I’m gonna roll over for some falsetto-ass mo-fo? Pshh.” That’s a good bad thing to call somebody who you don’t like. Some falsetto-ass mo-fo.

“I have got a friend who is a spiritual medium and she wants to go and take a look up there to see if she can feel anything,” the hiker said.

Moving like this will catch on. Why /should/ it be just for video games?

All the sexy diseases.

I can explain.

How fairies fly. “These men toil that the girls may spin.”

Good advice: “You can leave your head on.”

Tiny taiko.

I’m not sure why, but this reminds me of a public radio show that started with a guy singsonging something like –in a voice like the 7-Up-the-UnCola ad: “Thees eez SAH-vim-bee BAH-bim-bee weeth ETH-no pop!” Or, during the Gulf War, there was an oily-sounding British newsguy who always introduced his report from where he was staying in a hotel very far from any actual fighting, in Nicosia. “This is [Something Something] in Nicosia.” The say he said it so British-like, like smarmily sculpting a mouthful of taffy: /Nee-coh-SYEE-ah/. I would add the way NPR’s Maria Hinojosa pronounces her name, but it is her own name, after all. It comes from places in the Spanish-speaking world where fennel grows, or once grew. Hinojosa means fennel, which is to licorice as carob is to chocolate. Maria means the sea. Do what you want to with this information, make it work for you.

Ev’rybody in the whole cell block, it’s snowing on the Dome of the Rock.

Japanese bullet trains in the snow.

“Now I see it.”

iPhone acapella.

Wendy Carlos.

How it ends.

Midwest Siri.

Laurel and Hardy: Atoll K, recut to be good. (113 min.)

Don’t worry about a thing.


How a motion picture camera works.

Duck! (I wonder what would happen if one of these ducks suddenly remembered that they can fly.)

Topiary. (via Everlasting Blort)

Gretchen’s wedding dance.

This makes me think of the movie /Annihilation/. A truly alien lifeform of unknowable motives is changing creatures and plants and people and the very Earth in a vast ever-widening circle to, uh, perform an experiment? terraform? colonize? conquer? Spoiler: In the last instant before the closing credits Natalie Portman’s irises go weird, so she’s probably one of them now. Is that good or bad? The swamp in /Annihilation/ looked a little like this:

Having not seen this movie I’m not sure exactly what deeper issue is going on here, but I can imagine, and I like it.

Russian flappers flapping in the 1920s. (via NagOnTheLake) (My grandmother was a flapper. Not a famous one, but she could certainly flap.)

Rerun: Crying about this

And this:

“Formidable indeed is its nose.”

If Asian people acted like white people in restaurants.

A map of where all the Baltic icebreakers are right now. At first it seems like they’re all piled up on top of each other, but zoom in, they’re really not. It’s a big place. (via NagOnTheLake)

What it sounds like inside each of those ships.

And beautiful footage of  the Yamal, a 75,000 horsepower (!) Soviet nuclear icebreaker ship. The phrase /as inevitable as the tide/ comes to mind.


Stop thinking that.

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-02-12) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back awhile.

The beginning of the recording has the very end of then-93-year-old Tom Sitter’s appearance at a Moth event whose theme was Love Hurts. Here’s the rest of that story.

Besides all that, here’s a fresh batch of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Chinese Church of Almighty God (Eastern Lightning) Riverdance group. “The group’s core tenet is that Jesus Christ has returned to Earth and is presently a Chinese woman.”


Pirate piano dance.

A dance to spring.

A dance to yargle, bargle /and/ blargh.

Houses in Florida.


Such a hurry.

Meanwhile back in Florida.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Miss Welder.

It gets better.

What it means. (This is really what happened between Freud and Jung.)

The birds.

Wild love. I feel like saying that this is to Alex Bosworth’s /Chip Chip Chaw/ as /Event Horizon/ (the film) is to /2001: A Space Odyssey/, but Chip Chip Chaw is pretty dark (its original title when Alex wrote it in the 1980s was /Teeth and Claws/).

Not bad.

“Once you know how good they taste you won’t ask any questions.”

I love this, though I want him to stop poking at it with his gargantuan asteroid of a finger. I know it’s love and care, but the bird is so fragile.

Mechanical fingers.

Honestly, this is very little weirder than any regular makeup has always looked to me. But if I had to choose one of these people to be my car mechanic it’s the Swoosie Kurtz-like one in pink hair and pink wide-neck shirt. She just looks like she’d glance casually at the car, instantly know exactly what to fix, fix it in ten minutes and charge you $35. Also her ears are interesting, like elf ears or little spaceship fins. And she did the eyebrows in 90W with a screwdriver just on a lark one day and thought it was funny, so it became her look. Also the guy two spaces down, with /Jongfluffy Torvichea/ for eyebrows could be her helper, patching tires, detailing, that sort of thing. I just don’t naturally trust any of the others, going by my gut about their mug shots.

(Little-known fact about Swoosie Kurtz: very long tongue. I found a photograph of her lapping the underside of her chin, which prompted me to look for one of her licking the end of her nose, but no, though looking for it led to the discovery that there are, of course, hundreds if not thousands of web pages devoted to people with long tongues. Why, there are people in this world who can touch their own eye with their tongue.)

Also at least the white model girls look abused. Clearly they’ve been crying. Oh, the black girl took her sunglasses off; she’s been crying too. They’ve all been crying. They’re all way too young to be crying about their choices in life. Perhaps something horrible is being done to them between photographs. It might be just hunger. That’s easy to fix.

Of states that hate states, which states do states hate?

Your Name Here.

*Sound of sharply breathing in* (drowned out by the motor and the wind). It’s not even their cat; it’s the airport cat.

“That’s when you go /phew/,” Hubbard says.

What’s wrong with people that this is a coffee machine?×2036+0+0/resize/1508×1920!/format/webp/quality/90/

I liked some of the other Doctors but David Tennant was your favorite Doctor too. Admit it.

Speaking of which– rerun: Axis of Awesome Four Chord Song. This just always makes me happy when I stumble across it.

Top secret.

Fred Astaire plays drums along with a record on the console record player in his bedroom.

Odd new kind of visual search engine.

All these years later, how well do you know the lyrics to Piano Man?



Tilt-shift Romania.

Tilt-shift Bulgaria.

Messier 83 in your choice of resolution. (via Gizmodo)


It really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it. And after billions of years it isn’t even a quarter of the way over. Nothing we do or don’t do will affect this motion. Though our destabilization of climate might careen the thin surface veneer into a runaway acid hothouse like Venus or another Snowball Earth scenario. And by the time the mantle stabilizes and the crust plates are no longer floating around, the sun will have expanded into a red giant, swallowing all the inner planets, including Earth, anyway. Enjoy your cardboard health food.

Video of this week’s 100-vehicle iced freeway pile-up in Texas.

I never saw most of these movies, so I have only an idea of what the characters might be emoting about, and almost all came out since the 1980s, but this video is pretty close to what my ten-year-old self in 1968 imagined the drug experience might be like. Now that everyone including children is on drugs all the time anymore, no-one has to wonder that. They’ve taken all the guesswork out of it.

“Please consult your doctor or other healthcare professional before starting EPHEMERALL(tm).”

The nail violin.

“I’m Pachelbel Potato Pail.” “I’m Drizzlin’ Flamenco-Baton.”

How to deal with bullies.

Underwater photography winners. (via MissCellania) (and scroll down.)


The rule is, however you put your hair is goofy to people in the future, /but only if you think it’s cool now./ That’s how you can tell if someone has come back from the future: the line of their mouth quirks in a quick sine wave and they try to look anywhere but your head. You might go /What?/ but they’re not allowed to say anything about it, to avoid precipitating a timestorm paradox. They’re just here to do their job. Get in, do the job, get out. Do no harm.

A compilation of massive explosions. “Oh, my God!” “Holy shit!” and so on: what people say, or rather shriek, when the world is coming apart around them.

And Shaolin mantis.


Traish LaRue and the Jewish space lasers.

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-02-05) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back awhile.

Besides all that, here’s a playlist of not-necessarily-radio-useful but worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Tap dance.

Pole dance. There must be bearings at the top and bottom. (via TYWKIWDBI)

How we get Korean cake.

Downfall GameStop.

A teacher.

Pythagorean theorem demonstrated with water. (via TYWKIWDBI)

Art. (via NagOnTheLake)

Art (via Everlasting Blort)


The race. (via b3ta)

Microsoft flight simulator tour.


Art. (via TYWKIWDBI)



Mirror room.


Way overpowered drone toy, like a giant prehistoric wasp from hell. The action starts at 1:40.

What Florida Man did on your birthday.

Moon. Also not flat.

Happy astronauts.×675/p01gkwdc.jpg

Spacetime fabric softener.

Bobcat v. rattlesnake.


How owls owl. Superbly. The superb owl.

Oh, incredible.

Tower. (19 min.)

A map of Florida in the shape of an L on his forehead.


In a world where cats sound like Don LaFontaine.

I’m okay until the guy starts jumping around on the edge of the skyscraper roof with a fisheye lens. I just about swallowed my tongue.

Metalized preacher speech.

Cartoon people.

He’s getting really good at it. And the webbed legs look clunky but they make it all work so much better.

Hammock face.

If only.

And the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil.