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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.


Stuff that works.

      “I was walking along the road with two friends. The sun was setting – the sky turned blood-red, and I felt a wave of sadness. I paused, tired to death. Above the blue-black fjord and city, blood and flaming tongues hovered. My friends walked on. I stayed behind, quaking with angst. I felt the great scream in nature. So I challenge the Mona Lisa and Whistler’s Mother!” –Edvard Munch

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-05-20) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

I didn’t crack the tooth after all (see 2016-05-14), but just bruised the lignin by biting wrong and jamming it into the socket, and that’ll fix itself. Dr. Mattson DDS explained the situation, deftly applied a little whirring tool to a couple of teeth in strategic locations and– voila! Now I can talk as fast as I want to, forget entirely about where my teeth are closing, and just shovel out the words and thoughts, and the esses /only very rarely/ make that fingernails-on-a-blackboard shriek instead of doing it every time I don’t put spare clock ticks into consciously driving the machine.  It’s a weird, liberating sensation. You can hear the effect throughout this show, which rockets along through fair and foul material alike, with barely suppressed glee bubbling along the edges. The Human Holiday plays for about 40 minutes, starting at midnight-fifteen (3 hours and 15 minutes in), Elly Cooney called and read a story, and still I read a seven-hour show in six hours.

Really, I feel like Absolute Evil in Terry Gilliam’s /Time Bandits/, where Evil exults about how now HE has the map (“…and the day after tomorrow, the world!”). Actually I’ve always sort of identified with that character. At least he tried; at least he did that.

It’ll wear off, or rather become the new normal. Except– a generous lot of things have been going right for me lately, some of them my own doing, some not. Download the show and I’ll tell you about it.

Guy Clark died, and that’s not good, but everything can’t be good all the time, can it.

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.

When the New World was new. I’ve been back there; it’s different now. Everything seems smaller.

National Anthem singer at Trump rally accompanied –or rather accommodated– after the fact, by pianist. Amazing.

You need to hear it without the piano? I quite understand.

Cut from commencement speeches.

The brain map.

“Some readers found embryology too difficult. Here a bewildered listener, his mind blown, flees from a lecture to an inn.”

525 million years of devolution in a flipbook.

“To accentuate the mouth you can use four sounds: Oooh! Ow. Wow! Gee.”

Even better than the Catholics’ get-ups, and kaleidoscopically head and shoulders above the Mormons’ magic underwear.

Róisín Murphy – Ten Miles High.

Immigration to U.S.

Spanish to install.

They use something like this to invent titles for people on committees in nonprofit corporations.

See you in Anaon (or Uffern, Peklo, Tuonela, whatever).

How slow light is. If you could actually see behind you while traveling at the speed of light, which you can’t, and if all the planets were lined up in a line parallel with your path, this would be a look behind at the sun from the point of view of light leaving it. (It takes 3 minutes just to pass Mercury, 8 to pass Earth, 43 to pass Jupiter.)

Deep electron microscope zoom into a mosquito’s eye.

Shielded and unshielded locks.

They fight crime.

Pish-tosh, said Hieronymus Bosch.

Puppy mill. It looks like a method of no wasted food, but wait a few hours and then look out on the front lawn and all the neighbor’s lawns. (On the other hand, the dogs will eat all their own processed product up eventually, too, so the whole process is really more like the concept of a cat factory.

(Get rich quick scheme: Cat factory.)

Cat watching horror movie.

This is what happens when you turn on the lights in this restaurant kitchen. Call me old-fashioned, but I think that’s too many rats.

Gloomy Sunday.

Great. What could go wrong? Also, whether it goes wrong or right, every single shot is as expensive as building and staffing a high school or feeding every poor person in America for a week.

“Oh, my God, I hope they sanded that.”

List of nicknames used by George Bush so he could remember who people around him were.

This thing clips on the glasses of a person with poor vision, who then simply points at any words he wants to read (in a book, on a sign, on a pill bottle, on teevee) and the thing reads what he points at aloud to him in his ear.

This thing that lets you carry on an ordinary conversation in real time with someone when neither of you understands the other’s language. (Like the thing just above, in the future this will be part of your ear-clip or glasses-clip or contact lens or brain implant that is just your phone and computer and flashlight and everything else you need.)

And hypnotism posters circa 1900.

It likes all kinds of flesh, doesn’t it.

      “They jump on each other and scuffle, then one will bounce away and the other will do its little victory preen. They used to kill each other, but now they hunt in packs because most of the ones are from the same brood. I occasionally see outsiders– my ones are more brown, and other ones turn up that are a little darker or lighter; I get these black handsome ones turn up and I think all my girls are like, ‘Oh, look at you,’ and all gather round when he does his fancy dance.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-05-13) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

Scott Peterson phoned about half an hour into the show and talked for twenty minutes about the bizarre Mendo Art Center special board meeting last week (he says there’ll be another one on the 25th, in the main gallery), and about a born-and-raised perspective on Mendocino Village development over the years.

I had an exciting/dismaying below-the-gumline tooth damage event the night before the show, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to make the proper embouchure on the mic to read aloud for all those hours, but it turned out to be not too much trouble to deliberately almost-but-not-quite close the rack to say the approximately 15,000 ess, ex, cee and zee sounds involved. Just now I listened to bits of the recording, throughout, and can’t tell the difference. In fact, except for the places where I forgot and clamped down and so (!) winced in the middle of a word, no-one would have a clue if I hadn’t brought it up. For content, anyway, it’s a pretty good show, if I do say so myself. (Ow.)

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.

Just because it isn’t happening here doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

Coffee cures cancer. In twenty minutes.

Stay for the drum solo. (Or skip ahead to it. 1:45.)

The juggle drummer.

Other musical instruments waiting to be juggled.

Wet music.

The definitive /Still Alive/. (Jonathan Coulton’s /Portal/ (game) credits-roll song, but here including Dorit Chrysler on theremin!)

Inside a hardcore labor-intensive kaleidoscope sweatshop.

MacIntosh vacuum tube amplifier construction.

This is a real bug. This is not a Fimo bug.

Lovely photography of American warplanes that settled in and for Iceland.

In the pin-up style.

Need a good cry?

Salt in water. Much more interesting than it sounds. Increasingly interesting. (10 minutes)

The 32 types of anti-feminism.

“The lumpier the fruit, the more organic it seems.”

Stay curious, George.

Judge says all blackish folks are child-rapists and it makes her vomit just to think about them. Some people have a problem with this.

“History is not all awful. There was this one time, way back, when a thing went okay.”

Canada is on fire. Of the many forced to evacuate, these people had a security webcam (with sound) in their living room, so they could watch from distant safety as their home was destroyed. And so can you.

Historical Russia, bright, sharp, close up and in natural color.

Gas of other days.


A dark minor-key remix –both audio and video– of Smashmouth /All Star/.

“It’s all I ever do in this crummy joint, is win, win, win.” This link came from an article about Donald Trump.

Empathy, feh.

How to make a decent hunting bow out of 50-cents’ worth of plastic pipe.

The shape of things to come.

How opera works.

The effect of opera on penguins.

Time-lapse Patagonia.

Topo globe of Mercury.

The recent Mercury transit in time-lapse, with the video cycling through a variety of different wavelengths of light.

A demo of a new kind of guitar. It does all sorts of things, including going /vuuuUUUV/.

“It was his foot’s time.”

Cats and brushes. They hate them.

Serious pleather.

Traditional maple-leaf singing.

The first five slow, off-putting episodes of /Dollhouse/ cleverly fan-edited into one decent, coherent hour, to set you up to jump to episode 6 and enjoy the rest of the –it’s said– really quite good series.

“All that night I heard the bird circle while I was eatin’ fish and watchin’ Urkel.”

Benicio del Toro colors.

All the greatest model train sets in the world.

“100% brain function.”

And the most delightful mini Rube Goldberg device yet. Because magnet balls, and the springiness and reversibility of magnetism.

Poe’s law.

      “It is impossible to create a parody that thousands of idiots won’t mistake for the real thing.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-05-06) 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.

Perpetuum Jazzile – Africa. (It works great on the radio, but it’s so much better to see also.)

How nature says don’t.

“Get your hands off my breasts!”

The oomphalapompatronium…

…and a little pipe organ the same guy made.

Thrilling rocketry.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

Fair is fair. Not fair is not fair.

“This is not time to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.”

So, bribes, then.

Prime. This number is against the law to have, even if you’ve only written it on a piece of paper. People have been arrested for wearing a t-shirt with the number printed on it.

“And, with that, somebody has completely said all the combinations of all the names.”


An owl in a sink. That is all.

Comparative physiognomy.

Homeopathic hospital. “Time of death: 3:34-ish.”

I can’t wait.

Koka’s beat machine.

You say cicada and I say cicada.

And Max the Piano Player wants this bebraided young lady’s lips read and the lyrics transcribed. Help him out.

Hoi, hoi u embleer hrair! M’saion ule’ hraka vair!

      “All the world will be your enemy, Prince With A Thousand Enemies. And whenever they catch you they will kill you. But first, they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, Prince With a Swift Warning. Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed.” –Frith

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-04-29) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep.

Scott Peterson called at 9:30 (half an hour into the show) and we talked for an hour about the glaring financial chicanery involved in Mendocino County’s nonprofit corporations in general and the ones that run the Coast Hospital and KZYX in specific, who seem particularly prone to roll over under the leadership of perpetrators of what some might call obfuscatory ethical jiggery-pokery. If that’s all you’re interested in, because you’re a freak for that sort of thing, click here instead. Obfuscatory ethical jiggery-pokery– it’s so fun to say. Try it. Yes, now. If not now, when? If not you who?

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.

The infamous industrial safety film /Will You Be Here Tomorrow?/

A very short film with a fall in it, but a fall into the sky. And Slinky-brand spring toys.

Another reason why, even if elections are not rigged from the get-go (which half of all Americans polled say they are), voting might not do you any good anyway because of a curious glitch in collective reasoning.

John Oliver speaks about Republican-values Republicans.

Peak slavery.

Fourier transforms explained so that even /I/ can understand it. Now that I do, of course, I retroactively always understood it, and people who didn’t were all idiots.

Fourier toy! Play with this!

New way of getting five-times-higher-rez pictures of Mars’ surface by successively integrating camera orbit views. Every time the camera flies over, the picture gets sharper.

Kung fu motion visualization.

Web of life.

As well as traces of cocaine, there are as many as three thousand different /kinds/ of germs on every piece of money. Also: if you feed a timid mouse a brave mouse’s shit in pills, it becomes a braver mouse (and tries to bite the scientist when he goes to feed it more shit pills).

How the whole world runs on looting the Congo.

A journalist chronicles his own descent into Alzheimer’s.

Biodynamic bullpucky.

Saints of science and reason. Including everyone’s favorite: Nikola Tesla.

Everyday objects amplified into numinous unrecognizability.

Some kind of porn, but what kind exactly would you call it? (My eye is drawn to the tips of the claws. It can’t possibly play the instrument; it must be about rip the strings off, that’s all. And the woman like that. Very much.)

Shake it, B. Yeah, that’s the way.

River on fire. (Sing to the tune of /Ribbon of Steel/.) Odd and impressive, but keep in mind how easy and cheap it would be to fake this for propaganda effect by opening two or three small flammable gas cannisters, weighting them and tossing them in. Also, if it’s not a trick, and if in fact they are fracking nearby, they doing so because there’s a lot of flammable gas in the ground there, and lighting it on fire as it escapes might have worked regardless of the fracking, the same way people used to drill for oil where they saw it naturally seeping up through the ground anyway. I don’t know.

Further NASA high-rez solar flare videos.

So /not/ flat, then, but like a re-cap tire press, and with angels. Got it.

A few shots from space. And there’s a link to see more.

Kind of a drugged train trip. Interesting.

House and garden train set. With cat and, later, dog.

Watch a man mess with an old modular analog synthesizer. This is the way it used to be done.

“We’ll demolish him with our ten-percent-less-despised advantage!”

The California KKK’s choice…

…but not the Grand Imperial Wizard’s choice.

Blind taste test with a real blind person.

Frightening chemical ingredients of an egg.

Kylo Ren outtakes.

I loved the film /Me and You and Everyone We Know/. This is only one of the reasons. “You are crazy and you are making me hot.” Later on, when the woman meets the child in the park and discovers she’s been writing back and forth with, you know, a child, her reaction is so calm and sweet. I hope I’m not ruining this for you; I’d really like you to get and see the whole movie. Miranda July is a genius.

“The science just isn’t in yet.”

“When I hear the shells and the bombs I head straight toward them.”


Falls like a brick, eh?

Moving pictures from 1864. /1864!/

Snowden trailer.

And Nilla Pizzi. What a lovely voice.


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