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      “Council meeting to consider placing traffic lights at the corner of Slough of Despond Blvd and Vo-dodio-do Way. Bring your harrowing accident stories. We need this. The children need this.” –G.K. Chesterton

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-23) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

You can still get it that way if that’s been working for you. But this is the future and so there’s another way. Hank Sims, publisher of Lost Coast Outpost, offered to set me up with a podcast. I told him about the complaints I’d been getting because of difficulties some people have with downloading shows via MediaFire, which is visually busy with flashing ads and numerous not-the-right-one download buttons, and he said, no problem, he’d take care of it. I asked him what he needed me to do to help, and the next email I got from him said, basically, /You don’t have to do anything but what you’re already doing. Just continue to send your shows to MediaFire as you’ve been and I’ll take it from there./ And half an hour later he wrote:

Now there is a Memo of the Air podcast feed here:

People who have podcast apps can plug that URL into their app, and they can download Memo of the Air that way, if they so choose. Unless they use iTunes, in which case they can only get their podcasts through the iTunes Store and not via a direct URL, and I’m not dealing with that, because it’s too hard.

Also, there is a hidden page on the Outpost that contains direct links to downloads of episodes. This could be easier for your people who have trouble downloading from Mediafire. It’s here:

So –sorry, Marco here again– if you want to hear the show(s), and you like the old way, continue as you were. Or get the podcast. Or if you want to directly download a show (or click on a Play button and just play it), try the direct way Hank offers.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this jiffy service and I truly appreciate it. Carry on, people, all watched over by machines of loving grace programmed by generous, competent souls like Hank Sims, to whom my hat is not only off but flung into the air and hanging for a flag atop the gleaming radio antenna of a (figurative) heaven that fairly admits all dogs, not just certificated service dogs. Even nervous ratlike teacup dogs that in life rode everywhere in their smoky-voiced mistresses’ shoulder bag, including into the grocery store in the baby seat of the cart. /That/ heaven.

Besides, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Half people are people too.

The metallophon. It’s a new Russian-invented musical instrument made out of guns and tuned metal plates.

This reminds me of something Eddie Murphy once said: “In America if you have money or a gun you can eat 24 hours a day.”

Donald Trump protected from demons by hands of faith. “We ax you God to bless him! and keep him safe! Thank y’all for lettin’ me go on a little bit longer. Bless you all!”

On the one hand, oops, funny. But on the other, what about the driver? The cameraphone guys are all, /Ho ho ho,/ but there’s a man in the the cab of that truck! Why is nobody running and diving in to help?

Once upon a time they sang the vodio-do, but that was long ago.

Mercury in retrograde explained without astrology. Because the sun, planets and moons are not gods and goddesses in command of our destiny, they’re distant balls of rock and/or ice and or gas and they’re a big clock, a clock that /doesn’t/ go, “The big planet’s on the ten and the little planet’s on the two, so it’s time for people who were born when the medium size planet was on the six and that moon there was on the nine to be wary in dealing with a friend.” And they don’t mysteriously turn around and go backward and then turn around and go forward again, because that would be impossible.

“But wouldn’t we realize that something was wrong?”

I understand this because I myself am inordinately interested in watches (and reading glasses). Last week, for the second time in five years, I lost a perfectly good seven dollar Walmart watch, bought another one, and then found the missing one. Now I have three.

Academic research presented in comix form.

How to undress in front of your husband.

I mean, see? See what happens when you try to hurt somebody? Let this be a lesson to you. And how about that t-shirt? Is that a print? Or– what kind of job paints up your shirt like that?

“This is a white man’s neighborhood. Japs keep moving.” America.

There ya go. Decent wi-fi anywhere there’s electricity, even out the ridge roads. Done. (Soon.)

Anti-science conspiracy theorists are always going on about the terrible consequences of editing and transforming life, but really it’ll be more like this:

You see how when the well-dressed woman isn’t satisfied with the surprisingly vicious dachshund, clearly a bad result of the technology, she puts it back through and gets a better result. It’s like with money. I just read that one pound of U.S. dimes, quarters, and half dollars, /in any combination/, is worth $20. Smart people figure out how do to things like that, and we all benefit. To be consistent, being against every little innovation means living outdoors in the sleet, without fitted clothing or hot running water or a flush toilet or a phone or radio or written language or really any art supplies at all. Not even a teepee or a yurt or shoes or a basket. Just roots and berries (in season) and chewing on a carrion animal’s raw heart, whole, all morning and all afternoon (when you’re lucky enough to come across one) because no atlatl, no knife, no fire, no cooking, and all dominated by the biggest guy who tells the most terrifying story about how weather comes from angry gods fighting on top of a mountain. Is that what you people want? Because I don’t.

I mean, look, case in point: This person has a house with at least a refrigerator, a gas oven and an internet camera phone (and another camera, the one we’re seeing through), she’s living and participating in a society that includes all the technological and scientific underpinnings and supply chains and educational level necessessary for these things to exist /and be available to just anybody/, and she believes that a convection vapor pattern on pyrex is literally the Germanic Caucasian son of the creator of ten-to-the-33rd-power cubic light-years of observable universe, come to show her a sign, um, of something– I don’t know, /Im here in UR kitchen, cookn UR foodz/, or /keep prayin’, momma/, or whatever.

And a song composed by artificial intelligence in the style of the Beatles.



I stand for motherhood, America, and a hot lunch for orphans.

      “Take off your hat, sir, Betsy Ross’ flag is passing. Do you see it on the bridge at Waterloo ‘neath the great triumphal arch? If you see an eagle trampling through the grapes of wrath, stand up and march, march, march!” -Jerry Herman

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-16) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Live remote from Juanita’s apartment this time so, as usual when that’s the case, at the beginning I’m talking in a normal, Norman-Rockwell-lunch-counter-appropriate tone of voice and gradually, over the course of almost seven hours, I lean closer, ever closer to the microphone’s foam rubber clown nose and speak quieter and more carefully, though equally loudly via machine because of the volume knob, until near the end I’m whispering insistently directly into the center of your head, improving every facet of your being with vital information /they/ don’t want you to know, rather /insinuating/ past their and your stodgy defenses to lubricate the very heart of humanity’s vital levers and wires and spiritual plumbing. No side effects. No hangover. You’re welcome.

Before the show I almost always play a little something to make sure everything’s getting all the way from wherever I am to the transmitter, and this time it was a brilliant though slightly crunchy-sounding twenty-minute essay on intellectual freedom (by ThereminTrees, titled /Punishing Doubt/). Twenty minutes well spent.  Also, the Boston Blackie episode at the very end of the night is a gem.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Current weather information: wind speed and direction, temperature, pressure, clouds, rain amounts, snow cover, everything, for everywhere on Earth, all visualized in color and motion. An animated graph that lets you choose the parts of the information you want to see.;-125.3;4&l=temperature

“When man-made-climate-problem deniers say /The climate has changed before/, these are the kinds of changes they’re talking about.” (The rollover text: [After setting your car on fire] Listen, your car’s temperature has changed before.)

And that’s why Nietzsche is a stupid idiot, and Hegel is an indecipherable hack.

I agree. They’re the same movie.

Which Shakespeare play should I see?

Somebody besides Stephen Fry, this time, articulating why grammar snobs are wrong.

Before and after. Two pages. Safe for work /and/ the bathroom.

It seems like more than triple. Maybe I’m counting half-cycles.

It’s time once again for the big Muslim ant mill. What interests me is, in the modern world this only very rarely results in one of the top five most horrible trampling-to-death incidents of any given year. It’s just not a panic-driven occasion but well-practiced choreography. In short: These are professionals. Don’t try this at home, kids.

Here’s the explanation for when it’s actual ants doing it.

A photograph of the first national video game competition (the game being Space Invaders) (1980).

And a similar though modern-day event (game: League of Legends) (2014).

The world weather beauty competition. Dang, look at the /mammatus/ clouds on that one.

I get mine from the dollar store for a dollar each. Aren’t they cool? These are the clever ones, these are the Clark Kents, these are the best ones for reading in bed, these are the kind I sprinkle around everywhere I use a computer, these ones I keep at the electronics bench (and stack them for more magnification), these are with the motorized shop equipment (they fit under the safety goggles that I also got from the dollar store), these are the folding ones for in my pocket, etc. The reason they can make money selling glasses for a dollar at the dollar store is that they cost considerably less than a dollar to make /and/ ship /and/ hang on a rack /and/ pay a kid wearing black lipstick to slide over a scanner.

Vindshield viper. Vait for it.

Rivers and streams of Europe.

Eight miles per pixel, so the damage to the ring is about the size of California.

Another few dismaying examples of what we’re up against in getting us all finally up and out of the toilet bowl of fervid ignorance, superstition and wooly thinking before another cataclysmic war and/or dark age flushes the thing again.

Every sperm is sacred. (From the Monty Python film /The Meaning of Life/.)

Peter Serafinowitz’ /Sassy Trump/ project. Collect the whole set.

The evolution of bacteria.

“Whoa, dude, I know Ubuntu.”

‘Sup, peasants. I /boop/ you.

Hooray for titanic haughty young women in frilly underclothes /and/ spike heels! It’s about time.

The highest class of Rickroll. (Singer Gunhild Carling solos on trumpet, then soprano recorder, then trombone, then /bagpipes/, then trumpet again!)

The Marvel symphonic universe. (14 min.) (Explains what’s right and what’s wrong with movie music.)

Bleeee! Neenle-neenle-neenle! That’s onomatopoeia.

What it looked like from L.A. when we first began to dirty-bomb ourselves because it seemed like such a good idea for awhile.

This is what chemtrails people, 9/11 truthers, space alien conspiracists, GMO haters, antivaxxers, this-or-that-person-is-the-antichrist lunatics, and so on, all sound like to everyone but themselves and each other. It’s the same thing but it’s just about Adam Sandler. To be fair, I did see one Adam Sandler movie ever, /The Wedding Singer/, and I thought it was cute. Having sung for two weddings (before I became so cripplingly self-conscious that I can’t even imagine how I ever did that) I can say it’s a pretty accurate representation of the gig. My favorite part in the movie is where Adam Sandler and the bride-to-be (Drew Barrymore) are both engaged to other people but it’s obvious they really should be with each other, and Drew Barrymore suggests they just /kiss each other and get it out of their system/. See? Cute.

“To reach the best results, sometimes I used time lapse photography, making a picture every second automatically while I was nowhere around – this helped the models relax.”

The problem of a /tipping point/ isn’t that it tips, it’s all the systems precariously balanced on the way it was before. You can get ready, but something’s always going to go wrong and knock a bunch of other dominoes over with it. (This is kind of cringe-making– all those brittle hips and legs and arms and necks and so on.)

The science of ka-THUMP. “Is that cool, or what?” Yes. Yes it is.

How we get airports, or rather /an/ airport. During most of the century shown, here’s how you took a plane somewhere: you put some socks and shirts in a bag, paid at the counter for a ticket, waltzed nonchalantly right up into the airplane and sat down and lit a cigaret. Nowadays you have to stand in line for two hours, get strip-searched, they x-ray your private parts and your bag, and an airport is like a third-world country with low-rent army police everywhere watching for nervous sweat so they can escalate the experience in a back room with no windows. But the airplanes are the size of an apartment building, so that’s nice.

What even /is/ that? Is that a pizza?

The story behind the punk on the bus who wouldn’t shut /I Hate You/ off.

Covers of Eerie.

All about the ragdoll cat, including that they’re big; some of them get three times the size of a regular cat, though a lot of that is from stretching out when they go all ragdoll on you.

How to be perfectly unhappy.

“It completed me, and I really got that sense that I’m back.”


Where they landed.

And done!

Narcissisma, pride of Pomona, belle of Biloxi.

      “She got no bellybutton, too, no high-heel shoe.” –Don McLean

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-09) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

An unusually crowded night. Notty Bumbo (his real name) came and read a story and some poetry. Molly B brought pie and a doggerel paean to a redwood’s capacity to wreck your septic line. Stuart Cohen played guitar until his hand hurt. He sang his song about the big deal on 9/11, which was fifteen years ago tomorrow; in three years the trillion-dollar war(s) we started in response to that, on all the wrong people, will be old enough to join the Army. Scott Peterson called to talk about fracking under the sea off the coast of California. Much later on, an excited young man wandered in to inform me that /the door was open/; he sat at the guest mic and delivered a short fast poem about, um, kegs (I think) (possibly cakes), the bitches, and somebody’s grandmother, between whom he couldn’t decide which one to do, or to “do”. He must have resolved it, because a couple of hours later he stopped by again, this time to /shout out/, as they say, to all the bitches (see above), or possible from them, hard to tell. The radio station is next to the Tip Top bar, which also explains the occasional distant ejaculation of laughter or dismay, the giant motorcycles that sound like a string of M-80s going off, and the metronomically barking dog.

A busy show with a lot to recommend it. Also a lot of technical mistakes on my part that at the time made me cringe, but afterward, skimming the aircheck, I just find funny. Volume problems, mostly. And forgetting to turn a mic on (or off). Several people talking at once, sounding like the visual of the ocean liner stateroom scene in /A Night at the Opera/. But mostly it’s just a great deal of useful information, including an essay on why not to stop a suicide, a story about the interpersonal vicissitudes of stripping for a living, convict yoga (and medicinal ice cream, for meth hangover), the discovery of surprisingly complex space dust, the new dented-can store they’re going to put at the scenic corner of Highways 1 and 20, a few thoughtful angles on racism and bigotry, Kurt Vonnegut on kindness, George Carlin and Tom Waits on advertising, the 1960s Soviet /Eureka/, “clean eating” debunked, etc.  It’s a seven-and-a-half-hour show; it should take between twenty seconds and twenty minutes to download, depending on whether you live in Korea or rural U.S.

And, entirely aside of all that, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Deaf King Kong. A signed joke.

Why weddings are a total ripoff. (Also, science has shown that the more you pay for a wedding, the more likely it is that the marriage will end in divorce.)

Cell art.

An educational comic strip to explain Friday’s (Sept. 9) virtually massive prison strike.

There’s something familiar about those stock kids.

Lady muscles.

Artificial apophenia. Apophenia is apparently pareidolia on steroids.

A quick tour of Burning Man 2016.

How was Burning Man? /What a question./

Are Hispanics white?

Mario Paint for music.

A French 3D clitoris.

Contents of a typical ostrich’s stomach.

I understand that it looks hard, even impossible, but I’m gonna /show/ you how to do it.

Giving the wheat what-for.


A beautiful retro-design synthesizer.

A complicated sad dance. This is supposed to be about all those 102 people who were shot in that nightclub in Orlando.

“I /said./”

Not so good for the poor fish, but awww anyway.

All the ST TOS villains.

Idle rat penis, if you want to use /all/ the letters.

State of the art phenakistoscopes, 1833.

On the timeline, bracket the years you want to see photos taken between.

It’s the same chaotic dangerous unregulated fun every year and miraculously nobody ever gets hurt

Miss NASA wondered how your engines feel. So, here, they said, find out. Miss Body and Fender wondered what it said on the back of the sign they gave her. So –oh! Next she’ll scream to the others, “We have to get out of here! They’re going to cook and eat us!” Miss American Auto Club already knows; she has known all her life.

See? It’s always in the last place you look.

“…And trying to see the point of holding out for the second marshmallow.”

Virus trading cards.

No! Ahhh! Get down!

Donald Campbell when fate stepped in.

And Rhababer-Barbara-Bar.

And only I am escaped alone to tell thee.

      “Adulthood is like the vet, and we’re all dogs excited for the car ride until we realized where we’re going.” –Kangarudy

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-02) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Gene Wilder paused.

This lovely drone footage of Vietnam reminds me of Studio Ghibli anime.

An instrument made of sticks and wire, bent brad nails, a trash can lid and a cardboard box, played with fingers and a pencil by a man with tin bells on his ankle.

1 tapdancer, 1 hammered dulcimer. (TED, 10 min.)

A tango lullaby.

Thank you, but we’re looking for someone a little more flexible.

Impressive robot dance.

A travel company surveyed a bunch of different people for bigotry and found a fair amount of it. Then they showed them all the results of their DNA tests.

Each dot represents a hell ship.

Schlieren effect.

The illusion of transparent cloth, carved into marble. A human just like you or me saw this in his head, figured out how to do it, and did it with a hammer and a chisel.

A very old case of a salted battery.

Why not to tailgate.

How we get bicycles.

List of things that have frightened stressed police into madness.

Lefatshe La Botswana. Turkiye Cumhuriyeti. Suoman Tasavalta. Schweizerische Eidgenossenschaft. Mohron Ync.

Puppetmasters fight.

Puppets fight.

Hammer through mirror at 120,000 frames per second. Unexpected: Matrix shockwave.

Would you like to know the 313 secrets of Tarvu?

I love this. It’s like a cross between the Boom King song and Bret’s Angry Dance (in HBO’s Flight of the Conchords). This is the way I think most people feel, inside, stuck in meetings of any kind. I know /I/ do.

“Mickey Mouse is great on a t-shirt. But Bugs [Bunny] is who you want to be. Nobody wants to be Mickey Mouse.”

See her take ze pleasures from ze snake zat vunce codupted men.

Sex scenes. What is up with them?

Solid-coolant (rubber) refrigeration, a proof of concept.

Tongue tricks.

Time-lapse of frozen treats melting into a plate of sand.

Food of the future.




Not flying. (12 sec. between blast and sound means camera is 2.5 miles away, and the shockwave still shoves it.) (This is a disaster. There was a new satellite in that rocket that was meant to bring internet access to all of sub-Saharan Africa.) They call this sort of event a static fire anomaly.

Martial farts.

It shows why to sneeze into your elbow. The examined sneeze is entirely out of the mouth, where I like to sneeze through both my mouth and nose, to do what sneezing’s for in the first place (clear the throat /and/ nose). (Into a handkerchief, though, then wash hands with soap before handling anything public.) Sometimes I mismanage the nose/mouth pressure ratio and it stops up this or that ear; clearly none of this entire system is the result of any kind of intelligent design. In the future, precise machines, improving on nature, will sneeze for us and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.

Tim Curry laughing.


Heck, no, we’re not stoned. Why, do we look stoned?

Interesting whooshing and fhooming visualizations. This isn’t computer generated. It was made out of real, physical things, with video, of course, but using film techniques a hundred years old.

Hundreds of Soviet movies with English subtitles available to watch for free. I remember seeing some of these at the old Mendo Movies.

And thousands of antique children’s books, also free.

“You are my daughter.”

Okay, coffee break’s over. Start now.

The hairy-knuckled angels of our better nature.

      “Rocks and logs can bite like dogs but words will never hurt me.” –Valentine, in MirrorMask

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-26) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

A pretty fast, energetic show. I’m over the cold, and I was in Fort Bragg at the station for this one, so I could make as much noise as the material required to be made, rather more of a trombone than an alto recorder. A particularly interesting poetry section. The /real/ holy hand grenade. Devolution in brain size. Mothra as metaphor. Zoological bullying. Sex robot brothel future. Single-payer health care. The feminist vagenda. A particularly appealing approach to atheism. Further Koch Bros perfidy. A defense of the classic Disney villainix. The latest installment of Rob Schneider’s riveting /My Own Private Shock Corridor/. Etc.

At the beginning you’ll hear the very end of an Australian film for a rainy day in the high school gym, about various strategies for managing your monthly. There’s only about twenty seconds of that. I’m just telling you so you don’t think you got the wrong thing and turn it off. If you want to hear (and see) the whole film, here.

Also, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

If wishes were (freshwater) fishes.

Is it a meteorite or not? A flowchart for how to tell.

10 foods that only exist because of ancient genetic engineering.

Bollywood menstruation education film.

A tricky French date.

A time-lapse map of every nuclear explosion since 1945. That we know of.

Right there, Tyler. Just snip right there.

Death. Yeah, about that.


Nope. Nope, nope and nope.

Hal and Samantha.

Twitch-GIF-method 3D color photos of 1850s Japan.

Pants on a chicken.

“Remember, Jayne, you’re just gonna scare him.” “Pain is scary.” “Just do it right.”

I don’t know how to think about this. It’s funny, but would it be as funny without the expression on the face of the guy on the left? And what /did/ he mean by saying, “That’s okay,” in the first place? Probably not /That’s okay/, right?

The good old days, featuring Donald Trump and the Greensboro 4.

These prize animals were bred specifically for this.

Trump TRUMP Trump Trump.

The unfortunate mathematicians.

A nice drive in Siberia.

A photographer’s life lessons. (Lesson 1. Don’t piss in your tent if you’re on a trip to photograph reindeer herders. The reindeer will trample the tent.)

The world’s champion pediatrician.

Who, WHO, /WHO/ will teach the babies about Jesus?

And /who!/ will sell the rubes enough pancake mix and dehydrated potato soup to last through the Tribulation?

And no Bad Lip Reading short is too last week. Right, Kakeesha? ‘Cause I got a sandpaper sandwich, uh-huh, uh-huh.

Jabba’s sail barge.

      “I think that the guy is lazy. And it’s prob’ly not his fault, because laziness is a trait in blacks. It really is; I believe that. It’s not anything they can control, ya know. I’m not racist. I’m the least racist guy you’ll ever know. They call me a racist, and that’s just a lie. That’s another thing they do. But I love black people. I’m gonna be a big president for the blacks, and that’s why they love me. I’ve got black accountants at Trump Castle and at Trump Plaza — black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes every day. Those are the kind of people I want counting my money. Nobody else.” –Donald Trump

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-19) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

I have a cold, so I took more frequent breaks and played a little more recorded material than usual, but otherwise it’s not a bad show. Something for the aliens to find when they land and we’re all dead and gone, but there’s a thumb drive in the ice, see, and they figure it out and play it by plugging it directly into their nose, and they like it. One of their scientist-poets goes, /Let’s find some DNA and recreate these creatures./ And then we’re alive again, but are we grateful? No. We resent them because that’s just the way we are, but they don’t care; they just like to walk around after us and watch us do things.

Also, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

The dangers of hypnotism. Apparently it can induce shenanigans.

Morph art women.

Gears and springs.

Props to props.

Without natural mass extinction, we never have evolved to the point where we can do it on purpose.

“Git ma dowg! Ma dowg!” What I like most about this –besides that everyone lives– is where the videographer realizes it’s really happening, not something he’s just watching, and he should put down the camera-phone and bring the boat. “Oh,” he says, “Sorry, sorry.”

Best backyard swing ever.

Replace the word very.

This is how all political speeches on teevee look and sound to me. And probably to you too.

And this:

“Let’s Zapruder this GIF.” Yes!

Here’s your band-practice drum machine, dude.

Read, scroll down and watch the video. I want to say /unbelievable/ but it’s entirely believable, right down to where Officer TortureDork, in the middle of the action, says, “Good boy, good boy,” to his police dog that is chewing the man’s leg off because the man won’t stop trying to get his leg out of the dog’s jaws.

“You want to be beautiful, so you sit for twenty minutes until they come to peel it off.” And, “Never /ever/ draw the lips too far out if the face is low and squat.”

Whatever drugs these people have taken, it was probably a bad idea. It reminds me of a Halloween thing when I was first in college, where a couple of freshman boys came to a pumpkin carving table, went entirely nuts, stabbing and slashing and laughing and screaming –shredded every pumpkin in the place– and when they wandered off into the night a chaperone upperclassman said to his girlfriend, “Some people should not take drugs.”

The happy stabbiness of Medieval art.

Cartoons of the Russo-Japanese war.

The generals sat, and the lines on the map moved from side to side.

A flowchart for people who get all defensive when talking about racism.

Despite the presence of Jeff Goldblum, the only movie improved by whom was /Igby Goes Down/, /Powder/ was magical and unforgettable. It was so good, in fact, that this droll snarky critique only reminds me how much I liked it. Especially the part where Powder makes the hunter feel what the deer feels.

The dance craze.

“Reduces corpulence! Cures indigestion and gout!” “Electrically brands the arse, without smoke or fire!”

Peter Serafinowicz dubs his own voice over this guy. He says the exact words, but his voice improves it. There’s a whole series of these.

Hot Wheels road trip.

If a car company just made a car like this today, everyone would want one.

78rpm disks and 160rpm Edison cylinders.

Some more generators. Loot:
Idiom-mixed aphorisms:

Auctioneers rapping. Which should come as no surprise.

The death and burial of Cock Robin.



Toying with the ether. An equipment check.

KNYO is set up in such a way that I can just check the schedule so I don’t screw anyone else up and get on the air and play with the transmitter and test things in the middle of the night, and I did that a little earlier tonight (3 to 3:30am, Wednesday night/Thursday morning).

This sort of thing always reminds me of the middle 1980s when I was building transmitters in the kitchen, in Caspar. I’d turn on a transmitter that was a pile of parts a few hours before and put a stack of records on the changer and wander up the street in the fog with a pocket radio to see how far it went. We were close to the sea cliffs, across the cow field. Salt spray in the air. When the air was right the power wires would arc over the insulators to the wood of the telephone poles and gently snap and flash. Caspar is the only place I ever noticed that happening… Wait, no, that’s not right; I remember seeing that in San Francisco this last winter. Ward and Amy took us to a Thai restaurant, and it was raining like crazy off and on, and wires were arcing on several poles in the quiet between downpours.

In the middle-late 1980s I was teaching at the Whale School in Albion, among other things, doing radio drama over the phone from the Whale School live on KKUP in Cupertino, making little Tesla coils with the kids. I remember how magical it felt when Juanita and I would sit on the floor in the kitchen in our first place together, with the lamp off, playing with long streams of sparks from one of these homemade toys and, when our eyes had adjusted, admiring the little clouds of blue corona discharge around the corners of the woodstove and on everything else metal nearby. I still associate that calm, numinous, comforting scientific feeling with the smell of ozone. And it’s still a kind of magical experience turning something on that you’ve made with your hands, even though it’s just familiar computers and the web anymore (on this end, anyway). And just afterward I got email from people who were listening on the radio, so, good.

Here’s the recording of the short impromptu set of test music, ready to download. There’s a little triumphant-sounding swearing in it. If that bugs you, then don’t bother.


Ingloond axpicts. As do Woolz and Scootlund, laddy-me-boy.

      “I like the relationships. I mean, each character has his own story. The puppy is a bit too much, but you have to overlook things like that in these kinds of paintings. The way he’s /holding/ her… it’s almost… filthy. I mean, he’s about to kiss her and she’s pulling away. The way the leg’s sort of smashed up against her… Phew… Look how he’s painted the blouse sort of translucent. You can just make out her breasts underneath and it’s sort of touching him about /here/. It’s really… pretty torrid, don’t you think? Then of course you have the onlookers peeking at them from behind the doorway like they’re all shocked. They wish. Yeah, I must admit, when I see a painting like this, I get emotionally… erect.” [View widens. The painting is revealed to be a solid red rectangle.]  –Steve Martin, L.A. Story

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-12) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to acquire and shake out and aurally adorn your hareem. Or kitchen, or whatever, that’s up to you.

Besides the usual six hours of stories and poems and educational fulfillment, including the saga of con-man/spy/Oriental mystic Ignácz Trebitsch of the Royal Hungarian Academy of Dramatic Art… let’s see– Scott Peterson called to blow the lid off the lucrative Fort Bragg murdered-whale racket. Stuart Cohen dropped by, sang a few songs, lamented the loss of a treasured childhood New Jersey trombone, recited a paean to radio-controlled toys. (You might recall the stirring line, “A paean! A paean!” in Henry Purcell’s /Dido and Aeneas/, whose stage design was the model for Jabba’s sail barge. ) Sean and Naomi came in– Naomi can pay $100 for a deejay with his or her own equipment to play music, that Naomi will provide, for her sister’s wedding in a couple of weeks in the Caspar Community Center. If you can do that job, or you know someone else who can and will, call her and work out the details: (707) 367-7338.

So! Also, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Our sun, the heating system. This kind of thing never gets old for me.

Wrong. The job’s not done till the paperwork’s done.

Our greatest delusion.

“I will never build furniture on acid again.”

“It works. I don’t wanta bark anymore.”

Kanye noises. A compilation.

The marvelous V-12 Blastolene B-702. (Click to the side view.)

She was crippled in an accident, but not so crippled that there wasn’t hope. So she worked and worked to be able to walk up the aisle on her wedding day, and she did it. Wedding photoset.

A little wobble.

Man with camera wanders around at the top of skyscrapers and jumps from ledge to ledge. Thrillingly hard to watch, even though I’m telling you he doesn’t fall.

Super skate girl.


“I told the devil: Here’s your needle back.”

A long, interesting, very visual article about museums and virtual reality.

Sewage truck gently explodes on dashcam. Actually, less of an explosion and more of a sort of hiccupy /pooomph/. Note how the Russian language seems practically designed to talk to oneself about events like this as you drive through the result.

If meat eaters acted like vegans.

And, “Up yours, Coleman Sweeney. You’re not an asshole anymore.”

And a happy Hiroshimeve to you too.

      “I remember my old schoolmaster, who was a prodigious great scholar, used often to say, ‘Polly matete cry town is my daskalon.’ The English of which, he told us, was that a child may sometimes teach his grandmother to suck eggs.” –Henry Fielding

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-05) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and dive in and splash everywhere and toss it up and let it fall and hit you on the head.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

An inspiring article about astronautics and space, with big high-rez photographs, and charts and videos, and a first person account.

Congrats, Collatz. Further trolley-problem hijinks.

The illusion of truth.

Where all that Olympic money goes. (Not to the athletes.) (Which is a lot like the way they do it at KZYX– a handful of people in the office get /all/ the money and the local airpeople get none at all. Does that seem right to you?)

Proof Bernie Sanders actually won the Democratic primary. (15 min.)

“My advisers tell me that these sepiatone photographs of my parents attest to my human origin.” Actually, this is an ad for Dissolve, a stock footage company, from whose stock the composition was assembled.

The impostor syndrome.

On the other hand.

“So that’s it for me, then?” “Sadly, yes, as I am talking to Max, now.”

A new kind of robot that generates its own motion.

Mechanical sympathy.

It’s hard to hit the sun.

Star size comparison 2.

Who wore it best?

Computational thermoforming.

A couple of interesting tests that reveal your political bent.

Look, up in the sky, it’s a bird on a bicycle.

Forecasts for 1907.

The panorama.

Where should we look for aliens, then?

Bottle Boys’ latest innovation.

In and out in three minutes.

This room, that room, or gone.

You remember the right-wing lunatics of Fox so-called News all bitching about how Michelle Obama sullied the White House by being the kind of no-class Muslim bimbo who would wear an armless gown for a photo shoot? Hmm. and

Brains. “We have a very narrow window between when the person passes away and the time we need to be done processing the brain.”

Meet me tonight in Atlantic City.

For the 400th and 300th times, respectively, I recommend you see these films.

Both of us.

Yeah, that’s good. Stand right there.

A judge with a whole person inside.


How voting works.

“She sounds like the product of two car alarms mating.” “She has the warmth of a tin toilet seat.” “Fold them.”

Kazoo kid remix.

Zippy virus makes inroads.

How to make a bluidy fortune in artisanal confetti and keep it all from the tax man. A big part it, it turns out, is that there’s no place with flaccider taxation laws than Luxembourg.

Nostalgia for the stupid 1980s.

Nostalgia for the stupid 1880s.


The rewards of teaching.

John Cage’s composition /Four minutes, thirty-three seconds/ covered by death-metal band Dead Territory. More cowbell.

“I did not have relations with that man.”

Mr. Creosote sketch from Monty Python /The Meaning of Life/.

Exercise your demons.

A source of unlimited power.

“Oh, sod the abbatoir. I’d love to be a mason. If I were a mason, I’d sit in the back and be quiet and not get in anyone’s way.”

Tabloid shocker: Worst tabloid ever turns out to be better than the best tabloid ever. Also, click to see the parody.

It’ll all end in flames. And a celebratory dance. And a howler monkey hoot of triumphant rage-triumph.

And Conway’s Game of Life in 3D. (Click and drag to change view angle.)

Political science. A fizzing erotic romance of simplistic rhetorical plugs and sockets, pumps and valves, a sawtooth wave of airheaded chuckles and sharp regret, and helplessness to ever accomplish anything at all until it pleases the idiot giant to lift his ham-handed foot off your neck.

      “A mind like yours, Carver, too smart for the room, over-thinks everything, easiest to manipulate.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-29) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and dive in and splash everywhere and toss it up and let it fall and hit you on the head.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

How the first written languages spread.

Making crappy graffiti intelligible one flat surface at a time.

How did Hitler rise to power? Easy.

Spatial bodies.

Tavistock b-roll video of Man Engine. Don’t adjust the sound; there’s not much sound there to hear.

How to land a passenger jet without any flight controls. (A simulation and explanation of a real event.)

You ruined everything, you stupid bitch.

Ode to joy.

Accents. “Where will YOU be when the ATOMIC BOMBS fall? I know where I’LL be. I’ll be under your mother’s BED. It’s SAFE under there.”

Weight: 8 pounds. Cost: 16 guineas.

Eye roll.

What does the porcupine say?

What it’s /really/ for.

This guy is great. And, by the way, that’s his mother driving the car. She’s fine with it until about 4:15 and then she’s all /Hey! I’ve driving a car, here!/

Leadership strategies for women.

Oh, sure, it seems obvious /now/.



A cruel trick to play on such a majestic creature.

      “Let the future tell the truth, and evaluate each one according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I have really worked, is mine.” –Nikola Tesla

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-22) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and be noticed for enjoying with an attractive bearing of calm, detached amusement, the way you always imagined you’d be delighted to be seen, but now that you’re there you wonder if that’s what you really wanted. Yes. Yes, it is.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Ice is civilization.

As is gentle mother-and-daughter contact water ballet.

The eggs for eyes on the pizza-pacman ghosts. And the meat slicer.

And staring out the window.

From a million miles away.

Automatically colorize black and white photographs…

…And here are some black and white photographs to try that with:

This is like that saying about lemons and lemonade but with a cute butt-shaped nose instead. Award for excellent use of nose.

Marie Osmond recites Dada poetry.

Laura notices her involuntary /Heil Drumpf/ reflex –oops– and expertly collapses it into a modified queen wave.–The-Solution

Tim and Eric’s Zone Theory. Just seven steps to achieve a perfect life.

Hypnotize them, yes. Acupuncture won’t work, because the needles would have to be like three molecules thick. Homeopathy won’t work, because bacilli come in far greater than homeopathical numbers. Prayer won’t work, because that’s just wishing.

Another great visualization of Fourier analysis.


Robots are even putting dreadlocked homeless people out of a job.

Almost –not quite– as cool as the Prince Rupert’s drop. Which is still pretty cool. And I like how safe the guys are being, with proper eye protection and all. That’s what to do instead of just saying, “Don’t try this at home.” Because, /try/ it at home –try it all at home; just be safe.

The poor horse. I’m glad it wasn’t hurt.

Catch you.

This single instantly obsolete new boat cost 13 billion dollars, enough to feed and clothe every hungry naked child on Earth and buy them reading glasses if they need that too. And it can’t do any of the things it was built to do. It’s just a giant radioactive tub toy that will cost /another/ 13 billion dollars to man and operate and fuel and supply and equip and carry the captain’s collection of puffy leather couches around for twenty years. And all the people who profit from this obscene waste get to keep the money, and nobody’s going to jail for it.

Cringeworthy professional teevee news compilation.

Try to tell me this guy isn’t Mussolini.

…and/or Osama bin Laden. Or both at once.

I don’t know what a ratchet ho’s (ho is) but it can’t be good. Except, you can sing it to the tune of I Don’t Know Where the Wild Wind Blows. (Not the Iron Maiden song. The cowboy one.)

Education! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Now, who’ll gimme fibe-fibe-fibe fibana quahtah! Fibana quahta fibana half! Fibana half, fibana-half-fibana-half-fibana-half, six! Etc. Although you’d think there would be some black or Asian people interested in a job like this. Apparently not.

Have you wondered about those flying saucers? Then, watch! as Kreisler brings you /The Search for the Flying Saucer/. (If the actress seems familiar to you, she should. She played the criminal’s low-affect girlfriend in the Outer Limits episode /The Zanti Misfits/.)

How we get electricity.

How we get tennis balls.

Bovril. Independent scientific research has proved its body-building power! I’m jolly well taking daily Bovril! Bovril puts beef into you! “It’s Bovril or nothing for my man!” says Mrs. Fudgell of Bristol.

“There’s nothing like it for keeping your knees and your pecker up.”


The saddest polar bear in the world.

A cruel trick to play on such a majestic creature.

Vaporeon stampede.

We had it, and we just let it go. Why?

An electric vehicle that could drive from Boston to L.A. and back on the equivalent of the chemical energy in a quart of gasoline (if the road was flat the whole way).

With perfect mass-to-energy conversion the energy in that same quart of gasoline would put 250,000 Volkswagens in orbit. And if you put them in low Earth orbit in a line, evenly spaced, they’d only be a city block apart. And then when aliens came in like 20,000AD in response to our radio signals (the Goat Gland Doctor, I Love Lucy, Alex Jones, Terry Gross interviewing the granddaughter of the woman who invented the windshield wiper, etc.) and the planet was a block of ice or a lifeless burnt out cinder, and they saw those VWs and went /What the hell?/ it’d be totally worth it, way better than the aircraft carrier (see above), which would be rusted to dust by then anyway. Metal doesn’t rust in space, for the same reason no-one can hear you scream there.

And anecdotes v. data, applied to Reiki “energy work” bullshit, but this applies to everything people believe. Everything.


Terror in the bouncy house.

      “When a felon’s not engaged in his employment or maturing his felonious little plans, his capacity for innocent enjoyment is quite as great as any honest man’s. Tarantara, tarantara.” –William Gilbert

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-15) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and be noticed for enjoying with an attractive bearing of calm, detached amusement.

It’s still the 100th anniversary of the Battle of the Somme, and will be through November. It was day and night after horrible day and night of explosions and shelling and huddling in mud and fear and murdering and being murdered, for month after month and, like any such event down to the present day and probably well into the future, it could have been stopped in a minute if the handful of people in charge had been put in a room together and threatened with being sent as peons to fight in their own stupid war if they couldn’t work it out right now, but they never do that, because of course that would be crazy.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

A gyroscopic inertial self-positioner.

It seems magical, and it /is/ cool, but it wouldn’t work on the floor. It has to be on something that can wiggle just a little.

The war you don’t see.


School band keyboard player possessed by a demon.

She belly-dances to the Game of Thrones theme music.

God makes animals.

Hallelujah. Awww.

Hamilton: a new song written by AI.

I like how bystanders get involved.

This is how creativity works. You get an idea and you do it.

What is an existential crisis? Well, I’ll tell you.

Needs more guns.

“If you do that, they will land the plane.”

“Is he? Is he really? Or is he just Jenny McCarthy’s kid?”

“You gone! Ol’ Jabba-the-Hutt-lookin’ broke-ass white bitch!”

Oh. So /that’s/ what crazy racist crackers are like. At least they didn’t whip or shoot the videographer and get away with it, the way their ancestors who, as they say, owned the ancestors of the videographer would have. So that’s good.

The 2000 AD Bastille Day celebratory solar flare.

And jazz and rain, separately adjustable.

Taylor Swift’s ham sandwich.

      “We have scratched the surface and it’s made a funny smell. It’s something to investigate.” –Jonathan Williams

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-08) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep, and skip around in, and frolic and play like a child again, like in the Twilight Zone episode where the skeptical old man needs a great deal of persuading but finally follows his fellow old people through the magical portal into a land of happiness and straw hats and calliope music, and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

Show by remote from Juanita’s house this time. There was one three-minute dropout in the broadcast, when Juanita got back from work at 10pm and her cell phone’s wi-fi needs began chopping up my connection to the KNYO transmitter, but after that, smooth sailing.  The recording you get is made in the computer doing the streaming, the one I’m sitting at, wherever I’m doing the show from, so it’s seamless as usual.

Last month’s problem with my email dialup service in Albion turned out to be corrosion on the /input/ to the outside phone box. I fixed that. It might be corrosion causing the unreliability of the DSL (phone line) internet connection at Juanita’s, but the outside phone box there serves almost two dozen apartments; I don’t want to even open that without permission. I’ll just call Sonic and put them on it. As soon as I press send on this.

Meanwhile, in the world of people with /real/ problems, the Battle of the Somme, a hundred years ago, commemorated July 1, lasted months, so it’ll still be the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of the Somme through Thanksgiving. (Last week I forgot to mention that the Somme figures prominently in the Terry Gilliam film 12 Monkeys, as ingeniously realistic a description of the inner experience as any of his films. You’ve seen Brazil, and Time Bandits, and Baron Munchausen, and The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus –they’re all wonderful– but I recommend you see his Tideland.)

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Tarantara. That’s Kevin Kline, and that’s Linda Ronstadt.

Lovely old batteries.

Idiot parents.

If you get tired of looking at a static map, skip ahead to 1000 AD. That’s when the popcorn really starts to pop.


They don’t exist anymore, and they were meant to be motels not homes, but they seem like attractive places to live.

7 billion people on the planet, expressed as floppy bunnies. The nightmare of the sacred miracle of birth.

Watch them make sex dolls. When I see something like this, I hear Professor T.J. Taroo (of ZBS Productions’ /Ruby: Galactic Gumshoe/) growling salaciously, “I like plastic. I like the way it feels. Plastic gets me /hot/.”

See, this is how religion and superstition work. Even when someone plainly shows you how you’re being tricked you still see something that isn’t there. Faith is just laziness, especially faith in what seems obvious.

Or you don’t see something that /is/ there, and suffer because of your faith in confident authority. Pay attention to the reaction of the young lady volunteer. What shocks her, beyond the physical injury, is what I call the /wonder of betrayal/. It’s a mixture of pain and bafflement and wishing to go back to the way it was before, when you didn’t know what you know now, and you still don’t know whether it was on purpose, because both /how could it have been on purpose?/ and /how could it not have been?/ And the man who did it to her is trying to help her, /or is he?/ because isn’t he still there, still doing it? But there’s still the appeal of trust in authority. It’s a loop. (Not the video, the mental trap.)

Or you hear something that is both there and not there. (By the way, this was Ronald Reagan’s profession, right out of the gate: Pretending on the radio to be calling live baseball games.)

Timing. One thumb up.

Karaoke Copa. “There was blood and a single gunshot, but just who shot who?” Fun. Try it.

Refrigerator poetry.

“The myth of the loose-woman’s vagina is a myth.” Comparing your dry, stingy ham sandwich to Taylor Swift’s generous, juicy ham sandwich.

Before and after. Your taxes at work.

Alcohol. Is there anything it can’t do?

Big enough to see from orbit with the naked eye. Brimstone– that’s the old word for sulfur.

200 miles.

Where y’all come from?

[Word] = metal? or not metal?

3D-printed zoetropic Fibonacci sculptures.

“‘£350,000,000  we could plow into the NHS instead’? They /must/ have known that was complete bullshit!”

A little background –and foreground– for the above.

“Dammit, Camus! You ruin everything that’s good!”

“I am theenking gabout weef-ee, ba-keeng and speeder-mon.”

Think about Bill Murray this way.

Think about guns this way.

Theft deterrent.

Meditative tentacles.

Music box.

“Scotland voted to stay and plan on a second referendum, you tiny-fingered, Cheeto-faced, ferret-wearing shitgibbon.”

Never get in a pissing contest with an emaciated rich woman who has a hose.


Profanity corner. “The effect was so impressive.”

Photography without Photoshop.

Garfield without Garfield and other subversive Garfield spinoffs.

And Sir Patrick Stewart. That is all.

Battle of the Somme.

      “We’re all just walking each other home.” –Ram Dass

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-01) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep, and skip around in, and frolic and play like a child again.

To paraphrase Wikipedia: It’s the 100-year anniversary of the Great War’s Battle of the Somme, fought by the armies of the British and French empires against the German Empire. It took place between July 1 and November 18, 1916 on both sides of the upper River Somme in France. It was the largest battle of the First World War on the Western Front. More than one million men were wounded or killed, making it the bloodiest battle in human history. A literal river of blood.

Remember, that was just one battle in the War To End All Wars. There could never be another war after that war. And thank God for that, because war is terrible. It’s so great that humanity has outgrown it, and instead of spending millions of lives and trillions in treasure on fighting over trifles –a line on a map here, a mineral or religion or insult there– humanity has had 100 years of unprecedented prosperity and scientific and social advancement, and we’re carbon-neutral, and electricity and fresh sweet water are too cheap to meter, and no-one is depressed nor hungry nor huddling for warmth on a sewer grate in the snow, and we have cities twinkling in space, and thriving paradisiacal colonies on and inside all the rocky and ice planets, and we’re on track to finish the third and fourth in a series of giant generation ships to other star systems. It’s a glorious world because of how we finally wised up, a hundred years ago, and decided no more rivers of blood. Because we are just that smart.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Relatively easy.

“If the girl is not a virgin when you sell her, they will call us whores, sluts, and disgraceful women.” It’s about the Bulgarian Roma bride market. (20 min.)

“Rhamphorhynchus, a long-tailed pterosaur, hypothetically feeding on squid.”

How we get delicious octopus dishes. Did you know that an octopus is intelligent? And capable of affection, and of recognizing itself in a mirror, and of remembering a good turn done it ages ago and returning the favor?



Psychological abuse. Right, that’s not love.

“Don’t make me shoot you! BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! Shots fired! Shots fired! He tried to hit me with the vehicle!” Video shows bangs = true. Tried to hit cop with vehicle = not so much.

Busy Stasi.

A dance to scream.

Stolen and lost art recreated using stock photos.

Art? Or not art? I say, art.

Art squared. “Is it /American Gothic/ by Grant Wood?” [DING!] “You are correct, sir!”

Music video made using Snapchat filters.

Once upon a time…

Aurora on Jupiter.

Improvisational political performance art. (I want to say: this is how I feel when dealing with the people who run KZYX. I’m identifying with Ms. Heath

Harmonica vacuum. Tadahhh!

Are you a fan of controlled explosive demolition? Here is what we use to call in the Old Country a /soothing hypnotic shitload/ of those.

Prepare to be rickrolled by a high school physics student.

“I’m gunna just tetch you on the tail and see whut you do.” “YAAAAAGH! He bit it! He bit mah phone!”

“Happy 4eth! Rember Perl Horber!” Morans.

Like a dog and and a leaf blower.

Or a 3D-printed zoetropic dancer.

How old is your body, really?

Winnie the U.K.

It needs a motor and brakes. Other than that, neat.

Escher y el efecto Droste.

1200 undeveloped rolls of film. A roll of film was like a kind of, uh, film, er, rolled up in a little roll.

…Which reminds me. I want to recommend a wonderful British teevee miniseries called /Shooting the Past/. It’s a kind of Scheherazade story, where the custodians of an immense historical photograph library are faced with having the collection dispersed and sold off by an American businessman, and they put it off by trying to engage him in valuing something, anything, beyond money. (They won’t tell him where in the mountain of photos the very few million-dollar ones are until he listens for a little while.) Here’s just one scene from that.


The smell of the old black lake.

      “They say it’s all the bodies of all the drowned picnickers, and all the leftovers from all those picnics, mummified by dark and cold, suspended at various depths, depending on the weight of their sins.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-06-24) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep, and skip ahead in, in case you’re reminded of something you dislike to think about, and it starts bubbling up inside you, and you wish things like that would just go away.

It begins with the very end of brilliant mathematician Vi Hart’s impassioned, dismayed essay on Christina Grimmie, Orlando and the balance of trust and fear. You’ll want to hear all of that.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Gelatin and rubbing alcohol, mostly. Food coloring. Overhead projector.

Bitten by a radioactive philosopher, an ordinary boy becomes /Socrates Man!/

Black hole sun, the lounge version.

This dog knows. He knows.

Fender bender in the F ring. Bets being taken. Rick and Morty? The NTE-3120 NSEA Protector? A Goa’uld mothership?

And it’s about time, too.

Impressive white hambone skills.

The reinvention of normal. (My favorite is the reverse bungee jumping.)

Puts things in perspective.

Moves things along.



This follower of the all-forgiving, all-loving Prince of Peace encouraged mass-murder, it hit him in the wallet, and he’s just pissed off about it. I like the mural behind his sweaty tantrum. You’ve seen that mural before, and you’ll see it again.

Two tens for a five.

“Oh, my God! The bouncy-house! Shit!” “Is anyone still in it?” “I didn’t think of that! Where’s Ethan! …Ethan! Ethan!”

Fireworks being fireworks. The fireworks are blameless, here. They had no say in the matter.

White terrorist bingo.

Patti Pravo – Se Perdo Te.

Guido Fawkes’ signature before and after.

These fireworks say, “Keep away from children.” Are they safe?

A history of horror.

Nuclear landscape art. Pricy.

An old but prophetic film by the CIA.

An old but prophetic comic strip by R. Crumb.

“Isn’t that awesome?”

No, it isn’t, but this is:

Also this: Girls Not Brides.

Juno climax getting close.

I loved /The Fifth Element/ –I must have watched it at least eight times– and I love knowing these things about it.

Parkour with modern drone video.

So, cheating or not? Watch the video, too.

Celluloid homunculi.

Lewis Carroll’s typewriter.

And nice math art.

Gifts of the Molby gyrating hammock fitness system.

      “A full chest, a small waist, a flexible spine, and the keen relish of a healthful existence.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-06-17) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

Stuart Cohen came and played a new song or three. About midnight I read something Scott Peterson wrote to Meg Courtney of KZYX, and Jeff Wright heard that and stopped in; Jeff is locally famous for, among other things, being eighty-sixed from all the not-KNYO radio call-in shows around here; and recently the board of MCPB used the police to eject him from a public meeting (!) because they couldn’t be arsed to simply acknowledge his perfectly reasonable point. We talked for exactly an hour. I have given up on ever learning not to interrupt people in conversation, and that might bug you a little here, but he managed to stay on topic despite my congenital sabotage of that. So just skip ahead three hours into the recording if you’d like to hear Jeff Wright without anybody hanging up on him because of his ability to keep a topic in sight. You can always mentally tune me out. You’re entirely welcome to do that. Think of it as an exercise to stretch your capabilities.

And the gyrating hammock episode, whoa. I tried it because, you know, you have to try these things to prove to yourself that you’re not a pussy, but…  It was nice of the Hare Creek Krishnas to donate it and install it in the station -it is very attractive antique gym technology (gorgeous black enameled metalwork on the mounts for the three electric motors, one at your head, one at your feet and one above the middle)- but there should have been a warning posted. Before I went home I made a sign and taped it over the control box:  Don’t use this by yourself.
Have someone standing by to pull the plug. And don’t get in if you just ate and you’re full of brightly colored soup.  (A rueful visceral image always makes the most effective warning.)

So! Here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Painting on black water, then lifting the image to preserve it.

…And that reminds me of this woman’s work. She does something like painting on water, but instead she uses sand on glass.

Morning of Owl.

Stephen Fry hates dancing, says so, and this dancer dances to that, and she’s as funny and smart as she is flexible.

Camera drone frolics along after frolicking radio-controlled toy planes. Astounding camera work impossible only a short time ago.

“Now you know how ta do it. Please do not do it if you don’t know how ta do it.”

Three gears that work together.

The day she showed up in a green-screen-green outfit.

Of course there’s a difference, but what /exactly/ is the difference?

Our wonderful nature.

Little Hitler.

Little Blue Mountain Capital.

Japanese Trump ad.

Ah. Now I get it.


Bees and nothingness.

Gotcher nose!

15 sorting algorithms in 6 minutes. This gives you an intuitive understanding of machine sorting.

Innovative scissors.

Think, now. What in your life is this dog toy a great analogy for?

“Photos From the Past that the News Wouldn’t, or Couldn’t Show You.” Here’s just one page; there are lots more.

And this man shoots time-lapse video for a living. He made this compilation of a little bit of his work.

The bottom line.

      “The bottom line is, never impede urination or ejaculation by obstructing the urethra.” –Dr. Keith D. Newman

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-06-10) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but really worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

I’ve seen all the movies these awwww moments are from but for the one with Boo and the Toy Story one. This leads with the best : /The Iron Giant/.

Piano people.

Cello and saxophone and tuba people.

Coney Island.

40 vultures vulching. The real action starts about two minutes in.

John Oliver makes history, again.

The hat.

The fabulous Talbot-Lago T150.

All the Muhammad Ali your family will ever need.

My favorite is the hair dryer.

“Trump is like a big mean daddy to us, and we get off on that. Oooh.”

…When what yez /should/ be getting off on is:

“Charge! …Bad choice. Bad choice… Oh. Shit.”

Compilation of even worse choices.

Speaking of which, watch this surly cop lazily brain-damage a boy for asking why he was being arrested. (First he stops the boy’s heart with cruel and illegal compliance use of his taser, then he clips the limp boy’s hands behind his back, picks him up and drops him on his face on the concrete.)

Carbon dioxide. Play the video and watch its calendar.

“There will never be cities in space. Who would build them? And who would want to live like that?” Well, people and machines would. Like they built this one.

…And that’s just one city. Here– move around in it.

A lovely ad for mechanical wristwatches.

Thrilling bike stunts.

Django did this missing three fingers on his left hand. Still, this guy is very good.

Shark be all like, Leggo! Hey! Nnnnnf! *swivel, jerk, strain* WTF, monkey! And monkey be all like, Ha ha, got your nose!

Really? Anything?

This Fairy Soap calendar works for 2016. Save the images and print them. (This is the same Fairy Soap whose slogan was, “Have you a little fairy in your home? You should!”)

This is not a wolf– it’s three naked women. Likewise this frog and this chameleon. Wait, no, the frog is five naked women, and the chameleon is only two, but it’s video and it’s literally skin-crawlingly creepy.

17 nicknames for the modern penis.

I think we can all agree that wine is stupid. But the lead GIF is interesting, soothing. Imagine it continuously projected on the line of decorative trees of a roadside alcohol dispensary. (Recall the articles about how when you cover up the labels, or add food coloring, or switch bottles, not even the greatest wine experts in the world can reliably tell the difference between the various kinds.)

The hidden ellipses in 1/7.

The fourth largest religion.

A thought leader demonstrates.

…And you might recall Reggie Watts’ similar (way better) TED talk self-parody from last year.

“Here we go. The staff is divided by the train of the burning machine building with sweat. No one will see your face. The children reach into the furnace, but the light is still slipping to the floor. The world is still embarrassed. The party is with your staff. My name is Benjamin.” (“The question for us is, Can a computer write a screenplay?” I’d say yes, yes it can.)

Some of the comfort women are still alive.

Each of this man’s art pieces is carved from a single block of wood. The parts in it can wiggle against each other.

Demo video of electric eel sensually tazing –and tazing and tazing– a bebulbed alligator puppet head.

The eyes have it.

A montage of the best current drone videos.

Simone Giertz, queen of shitty robots.

Dan Kozloff once asked me what comics I liked and I couldn’t really think of an especially worthy one –I like them all– but I should have said Maria Bamford. She’s not just funny, she’s more than that. Start here:

And the Medici rap.

It’s hotter than Hooker in Heater, and hotter than Heater in Hellmouth.

      “I just sat there sharpening my bayonet and looking at his feet. I wanted to activate his mind. After awhile he says, ‘Welp, this ain’t workin’ out,’ and he got himself up and he made it all the way back. He’s too big to carry, you see. I couldn’t get him there. I just had to activate his mind.” –Lobo

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-06-03) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

A weatherbeaten, gravel-voiced man who calls himself Lobo tapped at the door and wanted to tell a story on the radio, so that happened, and at first it was a little hard to understand what he was driving at, but his narrative structure had a certain Firesign-Theater-like pleasantly disturbing off-kilter majesty to it. Stuart Cohen dropped by and played a few songs, and he was hardly out of the chair, picking up to leave, when Elly Cooney called to read her story about the passing of Michael McCowen, maybe the last genuine pasha, or Pasha, whichever is used. I think Lobo showed up around an hour and ten minutes in.

If all you want is the part where Stuart plays and sings, here is that, in a relatively small file.

At the end, after all the stories and information and folderol, you’ll find the actual Firesign Theater recording /Everything You Know Is Wrong./ My show recordings are always monaural, so you’re missing the hypnotic spacial cues and brainwave-beat training that carries a lot of the feel of a Firesign Theater piece, though the text is there, and for some that’s enough. It’s about the final journey of all humanity (except one man) to the sun at the center of the Earth.

Anyway, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but really worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Yet another Mayan end of the world. It’s today. Go on, cut loose, go wild. Nothing matters anyway.

Flying Saucer Rock and Roll. (A ten-minute film set in Ireland in the 1950s.) (“Golly, Johnny, it looks like all the kids are deaf in one ear from the pressure wave from the blast!” “Gee, you’re pretty smart for a chick!”)

Pluto close up.

Guide to figuring out the age of an undated world map.

Acoustic techno.

Yeah, hold your /own/ drink and watch this.

Histochemical cytoplasmic rap sheet as long as your arm.

Homeopathy. Does it work? (Hint: no.)

Another kind of mathematical art.

Another conspiracy theory. Or it will be, you’ll see.

A personality test that has zero validity but it’s nice. It’s a visualization exercise.

You are two.

Tape Face’s act. That’s a great act. For current values of great.

We have nothing to sphere but spheres themselves.

Octopockles. How we get them. (Or rather, in the Pogo idiom, how we gets them.)

Every year it’s the same goddamn thing. You’d think they’d learn.

I love this photo project.

Artistic peril.

So should aliens invade this planet or not?

See, that was the U.S.; meanwhile, in Canada:

Speak Out Challenge. This girl won, hands down, then got disqualified and kicked out
because a pro-Israel blogger got all butt-hurt because he didn’t like the subject she
spoke out about.

Romantic seahorse mating dance.

94 and can still do it.


A good question.

Another surprisingly good question.

You know how after they roust people out of a homeless camp it’s kind of a
mess? Here’s what it looks like when people with homes go home from a car

And legs of the opera, a comparative study.

The bird’s future is the snake’s snack.

      “No, James. If people got the idea I was healing lepers, they’d have no incentive to avoid leprosy.” –Supply Side Jesus

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-05-27) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but really worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

A short film about Hong Kong that does what all great films, long or short, do: it makes you look around yourself and see the film of your place and your life and your experience. Stick around there, after, and see some of the other films Brandon Li has made.

And learn about how he makes those films.

A small piece of kinetic art about the way our brains fill in the gaps.

After 40,000 years, a new kind of puppet.

A couple of thoughts on this: 1. I still hate goats, but I hate them a little less. These are a better class of goats than the goats who broke into my car and stole my car stereo. And 2. That girl is too white. She’s phenomenally white. And she must be very careful never to run out of treats, because a goat can go from docile and friendly to murderous frenzy in the blink of one of its freaky alien eyes. And the whole time it’s murdering you it reeks of goat. Brrr.

Speaking of which: fears.

The difference between physical illness and mental illness.

The new economy: jobs in event security, and the tools and furniture of the trade.

The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue, the ski-jump nose and dimpled earlobe of the born carnival barker.

Gazing with saccades.

Whistling (and ecstatic) (and, in hindsight, probably a robot) Jack Smith.

“But ain’t that just adding to the problem?”

Popular temperature scales simplified.

An essay on the superiority of Calvin & Hobbes. The writer /really/ doesn’t like Garfield or Johnny Hart.

How could ya not love this guy? What a great story!

It turns out that Hillaroo doesn’t do nearly as well against Herr Drumpf as Bernini does. See for yourself.

Drumpf overload.


I saw this a couple of years ago and showed it to you, but a link to it just appeared in the AVA, and it’s totally worth it, so here, again:

Smoke on de vah-pah.

Highway to Hell in Ukrainian, in summer shorts, by the pool.

Now just try to watch this without bursting into tears. Yuja Wang plays Carmen Variations.

Or this.

Oh, hell, just go through the entire Yuja Wang YouTube catalog. You know you want to.

Ad infinitum.

Augmented reality.

Commentary on a Japanese video game. Category: WTF Japan.

Hamlet is back. And he’s not happy.

A short talk about video compression that even I can understand.

Game of molds.*

*It refers to the Game of Thrones intro.

How to make meth? What is the clap? How to get blood out of suede? (The searches that distinguish and define the states.)

The bird’s future is the snake’s snack.

“No, James. If people knew I was healing lepers, there would be no incentive to avoid leprosy.”

Enlightening: another several ways to look at feminism.

Who cut the cheese? Why, it was the Alpma TH-2 hard-cheese cutting machine, that’s who.

And /when/ to cut?

“Welcome to Hell. Wipe your shoes.”

An essay on the familiar and novel in film. Give it the full 9 minutes.

The rocket war. Celebrated for 200 years, since rockets have been cheap. Fun, but they think they’re protecting themselves from breathing the burn products by tying a cheap hankie over their nose, and you really need something better than that. Also it doesn’t say here but every year this event results in blinding, in burns, pets of all kinds dying of sheer terror, so on. But it’s a tradition.

Lightning in stop-o-mation.

Sentence tree tool.

There, that’s sorted, then. Sorted by eon.

The universe in 4 minutes.

Further Target marching by yet another bellowing out-of-control-angry follower of the Prince of Peace and Love.

The points of three (perpendicular) intersecting golden rectangles define an icosahedron. I did not know that.

On the one hand, fiddling while Rome burns. On the other hand, pretty cool, and wouldn’t you want a turn?

When malls were malls.

Russian casual.

Bodice-ripper-cover horse.

Hot Nixon-on-Aristotle action.

Well, there ya go, then.

Tap-dancing, time for a comeback?

Because if it isn’t tap-dance day today, at least there is a Tap-Dance Day.

A new kind of electric bus-train-thing, that’s like adding an subway system but without having to dig tunnels.

A 1935 futuristic streamlined soft-suspended motorbike with a 600cc three-cylinder motor /inside the front wheel./

The numerically balanced d20. And then, near the end, the numerically balanced d120. You can skip ahead to it if you can’t stand the tension.

Musical toy. Click a waveshape (top right) then click and drag on the yellow space. Slide and change the three controls across the bottom. Apparently if you get the app you can do some more things, and the touch-screen of a phone or tablet makes it more of a real performance instrument.

How long to fall through equals the same as how long to half-orbit.

And Mister Smile. It makes me think of Sally Cruikshank’s animations, and I’m not sure why.