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Jake leg waltz.

     “They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the Red Death.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-04-03) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

Furthermore, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Astronaut Chris Hadley reviews space movies. (30 min. and worth every min.)

“Do not fear, but please stay here.”

Stay the fuck at home. (via Everlasting Blort)

“Here is Colin with a slab of cork from the bark of a cork tree.” (43 min.)

Life with Rogar. “Do not punish.”

“Stand in a corner and cry softly.”

Hey now.

Simulating an epidemic. 20 minutes and worth it.

The girl on the magazine cover.

Nina Conti is so wonderful. Here’s just one of her performances. (Also see, if you can find it, the terrific little movie she made about giving up her career in ventriloquism when her old ventriloquism teacher died; it’s called /Her Master’s Voice/.)

Couple make their own Haunted Mansion experience for you.

Animated paintings. Scroll down for two of them. (via Everlasting Blort)

The first fifty digits of pi recited (or sung) by different people in all different styles.

Tense. Man asks cop the same questions cops have asked him, and uses the same tone of voice they do, to see how they like it. Answer: they don’t. Also, the thought comes to me belated because I’m white: good thing he’s white. Jesus, that /look/ the cop gives him at the end. I often use the term /looking daggers at/ someone; that’s that look.

Overlapping stock footage.

Bird just hit the edge of the map.

Didn’t see that coming.

This comic frame is about how, through all of this, the putz is mainly concerned about his image, his teevee ratings, that people think his hair is real, stuff like that.

Constructive use of one’s time.

The plague doctor and the unicorn, a fable of isolation, desolation, and chihuahuas.

Choose your own adventure.

Bird flight paths.

Preparation. (Click the sound on.)

Luca Stricagnoli’s latest.

Ten great bass women.

Slow-motion bird-feeder cam.

Ze Frank – The Giraffe.

“Hail to the Wizard of Oz, to the Wizard of Oz, hooray, hooray. Don’t offend our wizard; he’s a wonderful guy…” This is six years before Judy Garland’s Dorothy.


Truck on ice.

I think this was the child’s idea.

“The last man on Earth sat alone in his apartment. The telephone rang.”


The scene in /Omega Man/ where the last man on Earth plays /Woodstock/ in a theater over and over to look at thousands of people in one place.

Bikini beach party. You kids don’t know, but there was a time when there were a hundred real movies just like this in almost every way, except for the African-American fellow.

Crash footage with one of the cars digitally edited out.

“This film was shot live on the 8mm-square surface of a chemical reaction.”

Odd man out. (30 min.)

Fool such as I. That’s Jimmy Tokita and his Mountain Playboys. (via NagOnTheLake)

Daddy, what did you do during the Coronavirus?

And the global haiku project. I played with this a little. Try it; you’ll get sucked in. You get emails afterward when the ones you participate in are complete.

Driving (crashing and burning) on other planets.

Long walking tours. Florence is nice. The wet forest is pretty.

Walruses can whistle with their big walrus lips. “So no-one was gonna tell me? I had to find this out on my own?” (via Everlasting Blort)

Rapping Doctor Suess.

This giant pipe organ is set up for MIDI. They try an experiment.

It’s beautiful, but looking at the smoke coming from the flares /I can smell it/ and it makes my eyes sting. Does it do that with you?

Creepy and fascinating.

First-rate mime skills.

“Lets you upload a portrait, and then uses deep learning technology to transform your image into a renaissance painting.”

Squirrel Nut Zippers are still touring and recording. Or were, a couple of years ago, here:

“Ya know what, ya do ya thing at the loybrary, the kids come fa da boobs, they stay fa da books. Evvybody wins.”

The girl chewing gum. (12 min.) (via

Pictorial timeline of the old 20th. (via

20 women throughout history (including 5 from the future)

London’s dreadful visitation.

Ze Frank’s latest.

Meerkats are interested to meet a giant very fancy and placid pet pig who hardly even knows they’re alive.

And a rerun: ten soothing hours on the Wuppertal (say VOOP-air-tall) monorail electric hanging train. Imagine you’re in the train, and it’s passing safely and (almost) silently along its route while you sleep. Just start it playing, put on your pyjamas, brush your teeth (don’t forget to floss) and lie down. Every time you half-wake up it’ll all be there around you, flowing past you and your bed in this marvelous machine. A monorail system is a wise move; no property must be bought up for the line. Constructing and operating it is little more expensive that maintaining the roads beneath it anyway. It’s clean, fast, efficient, unaffected by weather, traffic, floods and earthquakes. Safer than any other form of transportation. The structure is always exposed to the sky; it can be festooned with solar panels for much of its power needs. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. Ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa.

Eleventy kinds of broken.

     “That all Plays, Bear Baitings, Games, singing of Ballads, Buckler play, or such like Causes of Assemblies of People, be utterly prohibited, and the Parties offending severely punished by every Alderman in his Ward.” -Daniel Defoe

     “Introverts are rejoicing. My lifelong aversion to being touched and love of solitude are finally going to pay off! Suck it, touchies!” -Hal

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-03-27) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

A rare glitch in the automation, so KNYO wasn’t joined by KMEC until 9:30 when I discovered this and put it right; other than that, clear sailing. Alex Bosworth called from Arizona and is having an especially hard time, though, and I’m not very sensitive about other people’s real unhappiness even in the best of times, and when he hung up it sounded final, like the part in the movie where they hang up or stomp away from the park bench sounding pissed off and you don’t see them for five years and then when you do they say, why did you hang up on /them/?

Matt McGranaghan wrote:

>Marco, Alex’s call last night was a particularly moving Memo of the Air moment. I hope you and he are both OK, individually or better collectively. He seemed resolute but maybe he was seeking help. Hard to tell. To your credit, you handled it as well as anyone could.

>I had been meaning to write to say that I could not explain why I find/found your conversations with him so darned compelling. Almost naughty, like listening in on a party line, or to a therapy session in a room with too-thin walls. Maybe it was the open expression of opinions, some small bit of good-natured jousting. Maybe the hearing takes and experiences that are a bit wide of my own. Still don’t know. May never figure it out.

>It might make your program planning easier but I did look forward to that segment, and could tell that you did too. I guess.

>Hang-in. Lay low. Wash your hands. –Matt

I wrote back:

>Matt, I don’t know. If it’s a new person, or like a former specialty prostitute who wrote four books about putting herself through grad school on the equipment God gave her, I’m gonna want to hear whatever they have going on even twice or three times through but that’s enough, please. But if it’s somebody who calls all the time to push an hour-and-a-half of my reading material off the table into the trash, and /they know that’s what they’re doing/, I’m sorry, but I want them to read their story and say Wash your hands (you’re right, that’s a funny polite exit now) and hang up. Even if or rather especially if I like them, and even if they have, as Alex does, a shit-ton of health problems and are deserving of extra love and care.

>There are things going on in the background for everyone all the time. I expected other callers for last night and they both flaked, including the one that said she’d call what turned out to be when Alex called, and I thought maybe if Alex and I only talked for five or ten minutes the other person would try again if it was busy. That was why I said at start that I’d like to keep it to ten minutes. Alex thrives on company and is miserable in private, and I’m the other way around. My experience with conversation in real life is, unconstrained I talk until I say something cryptic or weird that nobody but Juanita would understand, try to pull up (“Pull up, Rogue Six, pull up!”) and just make it worse, and then internally agonize about it for the rest of my life; so I should quit while I’m ahead, but I always hope the other person will say, “Oh, my, look at the time,” and they take responsibility for leaving each other wanting more, to look forward to next time. /They/ do that; that’s what I want.

>Meanwhile the world’s in the same worse sucky hole than ever anyway in this bad science-fiction timeline, billionaires’ world wars ruining everything for everybody so they can stay billionaires, and cynical fake democracy, and plague, and devastation; disasters should take turns and not be comically wedged in the door together like this all at the same time. I’m gonna heat my tea back up and work on my web thing. Thanks for writing. Wash your hands. –Marco

IN OTHER NEWS: Confidential to the small but significant number of people who’ve been writing me privately for years and telling me in the grocery store (or even in the radio station when the mic is off but they won’t sit at a mic and do it for real) to cut off Alex (or anyone) for whatever reason of theirs, every one of whom has also told me never to say their name on the radio, because they want to kvetch in paranoid privacy, which I hate, um, I hate that, as well as the smug whispering campaigns against writers they have a personal history and issues with or who they just don’t understand so it makes them feel like they’re being made fun of so they’re pissy about it, and so on: If you want to participate, participate. If you want to snipe, snipe in public from now on with your name on it; be a man, or a woman, whichever is better. If you want to sabotage other people’s projects, go ahead, but stand up where everyone can get a clear throw at you with /their/ cream pie while you’re doing it. Okay, now that I have this all straight in my mind I know what to say next time, but it’ll probably come out a lot simpler, more like /Fuck you, clown!/ You know all those old grumpy people who ever just appeared, swore bitterly at you, and you were like, What was /that/ about? It’s all beginning to make sense. It’s about shorthand, minimalism, zen.

Anyway, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Christine speaking Shetlandic. I’ll be in my bunk.

The adorable bee hummingbird, the smallest of birds, barely bigger than a bee. Only as big as a big bee. (via NagOnTheLake)


For the love of God, Montressor. (41 min.)

Rediscovering Medieval music.

Reinventing music with stuff you find just lying around the house. The flapping rewinding tape one is my favorite.

“It’s okay. You can look at my butt.” (A lesson of social distancing.)

Queen of the rodeo. (via NagOnTheLake)

Ghost Story Club. (via

Lily Hevesh’s latest.

Joseph’s latest.

Rerun: The /sound/ of this. Use the good headphones.

Collection of lovely videos about work in rural China. (via NagOnTheLake)

“God dammit, you guys. Fine, how can I help.”

Shelter in place.

Read this whole thing, but if you just can’t force yourself to, then skip to the end graphics and the conclusion, which is that a hard quarantine is less effective than hard distancing. The animated demos about halfway down the article show why.

Stream the animal kingdom.

How we get mermaids. “The qualifications are beauty of face and figure, the ability to take direction and face long hours of strenuous physical discipline.”

Stills of the mermaids.

Say it ain’t so, Joe…

[Update] …But apparently they removed that like five minutes after I picked up the link. Here’s another article about the latest accusations against Joe Biden. I don’t know, except– even without considering this case, to me either Elizabeth Warren or Bernie Sanders would make a far better president than either Joe Biden or Fat Donny Two Scoops, and of all of them Warren has another twenty good sharp years in her. Maybe there won’t even be an election. Maybe those of us left alive will all be under drone-enforced martial law by election time in a Black Mirror scenario of horror, hunger and oppression and, on top of it, the worst fire season ever because of climate disruption and we’ll be using wheelbarrowsful of money for toilet paper, and a handful of evil fucks in charge will /still/ somehow be profiting from bombing the Middle East and Africa and wrecking and re-wrecking Central and South America just to feel like they’re in charge of the Raft of the Medusa for another fifteen minutes. Ahem.

I fratelli Cuomo.

“We gotta get outta here. Steve’s got warrants.” “I got warrants, man.”

I love this.

And this. “But the Lord told Shavulva, don’t worry.”

Sir Patrick Stewart is reciting soothing Shakespeare sonnets on Twitter.

The little blonde one, Diane, is less squinty and more focused on the camera’s nose than the others, but there are those worrying hickeys under her arm. That’s probably why she didn’t win, and next year she’ll be too old. That was her one chance to be National Doughnut Queen. Thanks a /lot/, Bobby.

The classic liberal/conservative analogy.

The sexy cars again.

Rerun: Mystery of the leaping fish. (Filmed in 1916, 30 min.)


How to play a bunch of random-sounding notes in a nonetheless precise pattern like a professional of that.

Somebody on the MCN Announce listserv wrote about going out to several stores to get essential supplies, which turned out to be vodka and trash bags and a third thing, I forget what, but I thought, /Essential supplies?/ It reminded me of this:

Tilt-shift Azerbaijan.


Sono il sindaco e sono stupito dall’ignoranza di voi gente.

But then it’s worse. Somebody could step there and break his tibia. Or a horse could.

Relatively, yes, they were.

A virtual giant orchestra/choir of music students.

Something sphinx around here. It looks like it’s crocheted of bubblegum rolled into snakes. Here’s the neat thing about all cats: they’re 100 degrees Fahrenheit inside their fur coat, and a sphinx cat doesn’t have that coat. So it’s hot to the touch. And it smells like a cinnamon bun because of a special genetic chemical in the folds of its flesh, the way the place between a puppy’s toes smells like salted popcorn.

About Lois Weber. Who’s Lois Weber? Exactly.

Strange sarcophagi. (via NagOnTheLake)

And archimaps. (via NagOnTheLake)

Oh, my, look at the time, wash your hands, it couldn’t hoyt, hummena-hummena, etc.

Love in the time of cholera.

     “In the future when sex robots are perfected, the only way to know whether your partner is human or a robot will be to show them a grid of pictures and have them check off which ones have a stoplight in them.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-03-20) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

There’s been no-one scheduled just before MOTA, so I always go on early and play sound from an instructional film or something, to make sure my connection to the transmitter is good. I left that part in the recording this time. If you already know all about how it’s not sissy to wash your hands and be clean, and that even cowboys wash themselves after a dirty filthy roundup in order to protect themselves from germs, then just skip ahead about ten minutes.

Furthermore, for the sheltering in place, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Kurzgezagt explains COVID-19 in a nutshell, and gives you a gear and a direction, as they say in improv games.

Walk this way.

Linked jazz. Hover, move around, zoom, click. There’s a huge amount of info here:

500 museums you can tour from your self-quarantine couch.

Free to use and re-use odd architecture photo collection. Over 10,000 images.

Disney-park ride ride-throughs. (The It’s A Small World one is shot in 360-degrees video, so you can drag it to look up and down and all around.)

Bodabil! A documentary about Bodabil (Philippine word for Vaudeville). (From the 1910s until the mid-1960s, it was the dominant form of Filipino mass entertainment. It peaked in popularity during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines from 1941 to 1945. -wikipedia) (15 min.)

Two hours of Dropkick Murphys.

Some pictures from a picture-book about red haired women.

Until the end of March you can get the Korg Kaossilator musical composition toy as an app for your phone for free. I’ve tried it. The combination of low tap latency and automatic quantization lets you actually play and record music with it. Experiment, make beats and backgrounds for your barking swear poetry. Use it for a practice band to learn to improvise on clarinet.

Then, not to be outdone, Moog. MiniMoog Model D, free as an app, except this one’s only for iPad or iPhone, not Android, dang it. Who can afford an iPad or an iPhone?

Or do it the old-fashioned way, au naturel. The women’s beatbox champion of the world teaches you to beatbox. (15 min.) In tough times, street-corner beatboxing can quickly get you fifteen cents for one meatball, and that is nothing to sneeze at.

Always beatbox into your elbow. If you’re a pastel porg, though, you get a pass as they have no elbow, and they’re not susceptible to, nor can they transmit, Earth disease. Earth is way in the future of them and in an entirely other galaxy, far far away.

This psychic trick is a good analogy for a whole raft of tricks a clever and cynical psychic reader uses on gullible clients.

This makes me cry, it’s so beautiful and delicate an art. (via

Speaking of which, I want to see this film:

Kabuki wrestling minus the crowd.

Further WTF-ery at the Conscious Life Expo.

How we get chainlink fencing for all purposes: caging dogs, children, digging equipment, a sewage plant, etc., or defining the perimeter of a zombie (or other plague) dystopia redoubt.

Chinese high-tension line workers.

Puppets. (via Everlasting Blort)

Why not to leave a laser pointer out for any child or drunk or idiot.

Saint Corona, actual patron saint of plague and epidemics, beatified centuries before the scanning electron microscope revealed the crown shape of bumps on so-called coronavirii.

Christian shares Christian love with all athetits. Athtepits. Morans.

…for there is no hate quite like Christian love.

Down in the River to Pray. I don’t believe in Jesus but I sure do like the songs.

“Holy moley! Now, that was a release, right there, whatever /that/ was.”

Go, chicken, go. Go, chicken, fly.

Josephine in Paris.

Randy Rainbow’s latest.

The safest way.

Faux news.

A cruel demon of the deadly bright alien upper world.

Invisible-but-blacklight-fluorescent powder shows how we spread germs by pawing at everything and grabbing at each other’s paws. This reminds me of third grade in Escondido in 1966 or ’67, when they gave us all bottles of red dye pills to take home to teach us to brush our teeth better. A fine idea, but they used too strong a dye. You could brush for /ages/ and not get it off, especially in between teeth and near the gums, and the effect of the first pill and the brushing and brushing and brushing was to make me go, /The hell with it, then,/ except that it tasted like candy, so there went the rest of them. Your tax dollars at work.

Hand washing steps: Lady Macbeth.

Make a sentence with these words.




Animation School Dropout: Panic. Fun for sound, too.

Perspex bike wheels.

How we get coils of sheet metal.

Remember the last time I told you something was the coolest musical instrument ever? I take it back. /This/ is.

Maker of custom nixie tubes makes a custom nixie tube. (15 min.) (There’s mostly vacuum but just a little neon in a nixie tube, and you select and electrify the internal shape to light it up. This used to be the way to make a numerical display.) (Technically a plasma teevee is an insanely complex nixie tube but the discharges make /ultraviolet/ light that makes very nearby fluorescent pixels glow.) Plasma teevees are kind of the electrostatic speakers of the teevee world.

Colorized old photos of Imperial Russia. Wait till you get to the young Ioseb Jughashvili. He’s just some goofy kid with skin problems and five o’clock shadow. Who would’ve thought he’d become Joseph Stalin, whose “totalitarian government has been widely condemned for overseeing mass repressions, ethnic cleansing, deportations, hundreds of thousands of executions, and famines which killed millions.”

“You wanta go one more time?” “No. I don’t think so.”

“Touch your face, lose the race. The enemy wins when you touch your face.”

Rerun: I love this. I love these people. How can they be this energetic and sound this good even when they’ve been up all night after an exhausting wedding the whole day before? They are superhuman creatures.

And these guys. Great work.

When the stars came dreaming.

Pompey was an inside job.

“Just so you know, I have an extreme vitamin D deficiency, so in the middle of our /doing it/, I will take several emergency milk breaks, and I will scream, ‘Get off me, you douche! I need milk!'”

Kids now.

Liz sent this. There’s some Australian swearing in it.

People in masks scare me, even including makeup in the category of mask, but somehow these do not. I guess my undermind doesn’t see these masks as sinister masks but rather as hats. (via Everlasting Blort)

Wired animals. (via Everlasting Blort)


Wheelchair dancer.

Traktor violina i gitara. (via Everlasting Blort)

Horse Head show.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

The eyes have it. (via Everlasting Blort)

This is exactly what the world looked like when I was a little boy in L.A. and my mother was driving us somewhere for her work. The sky is pale-bluish brown-gray photochemical smog. And your eyes always felt gritty, like there was fine sand or baking soda in the air. I half-remember finding out later that the grit was from all the civil and military incinerators as much as from vehicle brake, tire and carbon exhaust dust and stirred-up actual sand of the desert L.A. was built in and on.

Here’s somebody’s 2013 video of Fern Dell, a place in Griffith Park, in the middle of the towns that make up the L.A. area, that my mother used to take me in the early 1960s to play in the artificial-seeming creek. Here you can see blue-blue sky because of decades of fuel composition rules and emission controls and regulation-required better motors. (The Trump administration has been removing and sabotaging regulations like that left and right, for everything concerning water as well as air.)–8

And here’s a web page that shows all the places in Griffith Park that they used for scenes in /Star Trek/. The place with /Voyager’s/ Tuvok, and Tom Paris, and a young Sarah Silverman is the Griffith Observatory that as a child I Ioved with a passion– that’s my sacred ground, right there. Every time my mother took me to Griffith Observatory was the best day ever. And then decades later, in 1988, Juanita and I went down to L.A. to get married on the roof there. My mother’s husband at the time, Bob, a former prison guard and hapless financial schemer who, for example, had made and lost a fortune in trick carburetor attachments that were supposed to give you 153 miles per gallon in a 3500-pound Chevrolet Biscayne, shook my hand right there on that roof, squeezed really hard, and said, “You have a family now, son, so /no more fucking around/. Understand?”

From the air.

Infomercial for air travel in the early 1930s. I’m listening along, and then it gets to the part about “the sight of happy darkies loadin’ cotton.” Ahem. Not to mention the scary crappy rickety boxy biplanes, freezing in the winter, baking in the summer, noisy and smokey and miserable, which nonetheless looked, to people of whatever color of the time, like sleek spaceships, like chariots of the gods, like the future itself. And every stewardess was a registered nurse, because passengers and pilots alike often threw up and passed out. They make it look so nice here, but this is the demo. (20 min.)

Powerful gasoline, a clean windshield, and a shoeshine. (via science popularizer Cliff Pickover’s RealityCarnival)

Toucan play at that game.

Fashion disasters.

Hygeine disaster. This is a year ago, in the before time.

Hardens the feet.

Rachel explains why demonic possession and exorcism isn’t real.

Other people in the world with their own idea of what’s what. What a concept.

“Are you ready? Hold it steady. Come to Deddy.”


Mad Heidi.

Explaining the worst pandemics of history. Try not to wince when the narrator mispronounces zoonotics over and over and over again as if on purpose to get right on your top note.

Cats and dominoes.

And Weird Al borrows from old ephemeral films, including /Soapy the Germ Fighter/ wherein a giant anthropomorphic bar of soap visits a little boy’s bedroom. “Just close your eyes, Billy… That’s right…” Like the bathroom scene of Morty’s rape in /Rick and Morty/. King Jellybean: “Just relax… let it happen…”. Later Morty violently kills him, though, and I suppose it’s the same with soap: you eventually, over time, grind every bar of soap to nothing between your hands to wash away the experience of that terrible night when Soapy came, filling the dark room with his ghostly rectangular bulk, and he called you Pardner. Also in Cub Scouts we all got jackknives and whittled bars of hard soap into a boat, or an eagle, and cut our thumbs, and learned respect for sharp things.

Remember, kids, in the real world, soap explodes germs. When a germ touches soap, it explodes.


A convenient plague.

     “That’s what happens, then. You keep shooting off your mouth and the next thing you know they put a bag over your head and put you out, and you wake up in a hotel bed with a murdered underage prostitute, blood all over, reporters bust in the door, popping flashbulbs, and that’s it for you. Now wise up, clam up, and leave town for a couple of months and cool off. Go to Florida. I’ll clean up this end. You’re off the story.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-03-13) (Friday the 13th, pi day’s eve) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

Furthermore, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:


There ya go, then. Good job, Congressperson Katie Porter. (Play the video, click the sound on.) And you know who her law professor was in school? Elizabeth Warren, who should be President of the United States but never will be because the wurld is rooled by dops.

Where COVID-19 really came from, despite the testimony of an Indian cosmologist who insists in the London Daily Mail that the virus attacked China in a meteor from God, or rather /one/ of the gods they have in India: the elephant-man guy, or the toothy woman with all the arms, maybe, or the Monkey King. They have some fancy gods. We just have the one jealous angry capricious smitey old beardo and his hippie son and the boy’s magical twelve-year-old mother. I collect the whole series of grocery-store Mexican Catholic candles. My favorite is Jesus’ big hand, with the fingers coming off and shooting rainbows of fire and a lady’s eye-shadow eye in the palm. That’s fancy enough. We can compete. (9 min.)

Ted Lydro (?) and his Chubs (?) – lip-sync /Hih Pahna Hee Kata Pway/ (?) and then the drums go wild and everyone has an ecstatic epileptic dance fit. That thing you do.

Your choice of song for your personal proper-hand-washing poster. (I made one with Stink Foot by Frank Zappa.)

Oh. Oh, the poor thing. Wouldn’t it be nice if this sort of treatment worked on abused people as fast and well as it works on an abused dog.

Oil and glass.

Meanwhile at the corner of Hold My Beer and Watch This.

Price of car repairs by sound.

How we get giant robot dinosaurs.

“Flat Earth, baby.” (via

That would be bad.

Hover-text: “This medicine says it may cause lightheadedness, dry mouth and blurred vision, but my head feels incredibly heavy, water is pouring from my mouth, and I can see individual hummingbird wingbeats, so I’m fine.”

Exponential growth and epidemics. I remember seeing explanations like this each of the last three times zombies were popular. And then there was that real-life college study about vampire-spread math. This is easy, intuitive, well-explained, so anyone can understand.

Can we call it yet?

How you get the job. I wonder how things went for the rest of this kid’s life since then, starting out so naturally competently manipulative. You’d think he’d be king of the world by now. I’m not gonna look it up. Who has time to learn every goddamn thing anymore. Too many things. You have to be selective.

Look how tiny she is, and she’s standing on six-inch heels. She’s as small as Kristin Chenoweth; I thought all this time that Dolly Parton was big and tall; isn’t that weird? I love Pentatonix. They’re all great. This is great.

Atlas of cephalopods.


Robot otter.

Fun with microwaves.

A clever ad for a wind power company.

Vote on Trump’s best words. Like: 20,014. As in the year twenty thousand fourteen. Also: airmputs. As in, patriotic Americans in the Revolutionary War shut down the airmputs against the British. And not just any airmputs, but LaGuardia on down, all the airmputs.

Five hours in a Russian art museum with an iPhone. (via NagOnTheLake)

Vicky with a vee.


Coney Island rides of 1918, smack in the middle of the Spanish flu epidemic.

How we get globes.

I’ve never had this kind of candy, but it’s cool how they get the words inside it.

Will the robots let us live?

Deadwood meeting about smallpox. It’s a little sweary, in case that bugs you.

’80s aerobics video to the tune of /Dragula/ by Rob Zombie.

Parks of Lousyworld. (via Everlasting Blort)

Tags: Slumlord, bribery, nepotism, Fauntleroy, backpfeifengesicht.

“Could this be the sex life of two things?” “Doyt. Doyt and filth.”

I saw his Riddick movies and liked them a lot, especially the one with Claudia Black in it, but I haven’t seen any of these yet. Should I?

The first guy ever to write fiction. (via …which reminds one of Ricky Gervais’ impressive /The Invention of Lying/.

Congratulations. (via

Cam-controlled automation. (via NagOnTheLake)

Live engineer’s view from a train running around in scenic Norway. When it’s night here it’s day there.

Can you run? I think not.

Cool, but I have yet to see a robot do a /rubber band/ paddleball. Those things are hard.

What you’d get if somebody rich decided to put up a skyscraper in Mendocino, with the Historical Review Board watching. Somebody rich is /rich/, so of course they could do what they want, but it would have to look something like this, to preserve the historic whatever, and because it’s a small world after all.

So cute.

Animal skeletons. (Scroll down.)

And Sarah Palin in a fluffy pink cotton candy bunnybear suit bellowing /Baby Got Back/ on teevee, because you are finally insane. No-one can hear or see her but you. Go on, find out, ask someone.


Opportunities on Lousyworld.

     “Lousyworld Colony Beckons /You/! The Sky’s The Limit On Lousyworld! Lousyworld: Lousy Name, Great Place!”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-03-06) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

The root canal on Wednesday went great. I didn’t specifically request an all-woman endodontist team, because I didn’t know I could, but that’s what I got and was served well and gently and local-anesthetic-painlessly and perfectly competently and I’m fine, no surprises, thanks for asking. How are /you/ doing? And the kids? Oh, hmm, sorry to hear that. Sorry for your loss. I guess it’s a little late in the game for you two to make more now, but the border army people have cage camps full of them, don’t they, that they rescue from the refugee criminals? Yeah, it is weird, but there they are, all housebroken and everything. All their shots. I’d imagine you could work something out. Yeah, good talking to you. My best to Karen. Take it easy.

Meanwhile, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Skynet sounds ominous because of the Terminator movies but this is delicate and beautiful and, while it seems like a design of the future, it has no designs on the future. It’s merely a kite.

Don’t look at your phone in the car. Not even at a stoplight. If you can’t help yourself about it, pull completely off the road and turn the motor off first. Here’s why:

You got something there.

Cute little rescue bat enjoys a strawberry. And has something there. (via Everlasting Blort)

“Yeah, that’s fair. One thing at a time.” And then the hover-text: /You just have to keep the spider from touching your face./

A simple cartoon to explain how not to get sick.

Fred and Cyd. (via

Savoir faire.

Victorian mother’s little helper.

What a bother every six months.

Time travel.

“You put that out and eat raw guts like Thrug!”

Men’s fashions of the 1970s. Unbidden, the phrase /gay as a fireman calendar/ comes to mind, even though I have no idea what it means. I must have read it somewhere applied to something like this… Okay, I give up, /Hey, Google, fireman calendar/… Ah. I get it, kind of. Sort of right. They all look like Ellen Fanshaw’s string of young lovers in /Slings and Arrows/, though, and they weren’t gay. Or maybe they were; everybody in a show is an actor, after all. Never mind; I dunno. Bailing out now.

A real song. Sad and sweet and easy to love. None o’ that drum machine and electrical pitch-adjusted synthesizer-slathered booshwah, though it takes all kinds to make a world.

Approximation of a square wave.


Eye chart. (via NagOnTheLake)

Toy art.

These might be women knights, from the clothes. Or maybe they’re 1970s men’s fashion knights. They can’t be fireman knights; they’d cook like an egg and the muscle-photography oil would just make it worse. They’d be like baked stir-fry knights.×955/media/img/photo/2020/02/photos-week-3/w19_RTS3393X/original.jpg

Important advice for girls. (Also click the sound on.) (On the video, not the taser.)

I’ve become used to this; it’s get-over-able anymore except the earrings and the nose ring, which will never not squick me out, as you know, even if they’re relatively little, as they are here. The makeup is only marginally weirder than anybody in any makeup at all. I mean, I can easily tell the difference between a little eyeliner-and-lipstick and this Princess Mononoke bloody-teeth mess, but it’s not so much of a difference. It’s like the difference between food with a bunch of icky fungus growing on it and food completely shot through and through with icky fungus, or the difference between random childish graffiti and childish graffiti obscured by some more graffiti on it till you can’t even see the store sign anymore. But it’s their body; they can do what they want with it. And I can wince and flinch away, and helplessly look again and wince again. And now I’m thinking: maybe this is what it feels like to have what they call a sexual fetish. Maybe I really want this and just can’t deal with the feelings? …Yeah, no. That’s not it. She looks crazy to me and I’m afraid of crazy people and it’s as simple as that. I know that I must look crazy to some people, but I can’t do anything about that, and mutilating my own flesh by hot-gluing feathers to my nose or sticking a clothespin through my tongue and/or paper-punching a zipper of earrings around one ear and painting greasy crap all over what’s left of my face is not going to help, I’m sure you will agree.

On the other hand, this is pretty cool, though I still would be afraid of someone dressed like this and screaming at me:

Meet this interesting very German artist couple via two-and-a-half black-and-white hours of their short projects:

Laser shenanigans.

Video of why not to put electronics with rechargeable batteries in the recycling bin.

The marvelous automotive future of cigars and predigested liquid ice cream in the high-speed hands-off lane. And all of it by /1967/.


A little more about the giant flying boats that almost were.




Video of why they dump all the fuel now before an emergency landing.

Paper view.

A paean to Miyazaki films’ use of sound. (12 min.)

To protect and serve. (Click the sound on.) At least they served enough to not shoot the woman with the camera, at least there’s that.

Medieval devil sex. (via Everlasting Blort)

Ghanaian movie posters.

The internet archive VHS vault. (via TheAwesomer)

…featuring, among a million other things, /Japanese Supaidaman!/ Great fun. The full film.

He’s still dead. Dammit.

Seb Skelly’s latest hornapalooza.

“Well, congratulations, Mugs.”

Museum of Automata. (30 min.)

Demonstrates early electromechanical television by making one.

So interesting. Scammers observed through their own systems and CCTV.

Pie chart of Shakespeare deaths. (Which somehow leaves out Desdemona, strangled.)

I love the kea birds. They are cute and smart and they smell nice, too, better even than regular parrots. Faintly like honey buttered toast and maybe a hint of copper and the dust on your grandma’s dresser. It doesn’t show it here, but they are endangered yet farmers shoot them anyway because they land on sheep and rip strips of flesh off them until they collapse and bleed to death, allegedly. There’s two sides to every coin, Tony.

Tibet. (via Everlasting Blort)

Bidet. “Five (5) bidets on sale that are going to completely change your bathroom experience.”

Ladder to the moon, where the bathroom is in your pants.

Simone Giertz’ (say See-mohn YEERTS) latest project: a paper shredder in a case made out of waterjet-cut metal slices in the shape of her own recently surgically-repaired brain. Also for a moment here you see the cute little Tesla pickup truck she invented, or rather chopped from a regular Tesla in a previous episode.

How ’bout you fix your machine? Call a technician.

Still not working? Did you try closing the newspaper and opening it again? Bring it in; we’ll have a genius look at it.

Neural network makes 3D movies from still pictures.


…Here’s the link he mentioned:

Neat Nazi aeroplanes.

The moon in 4K video. My computer’s crappy video card will barely play it smoothly in 720p, but it’s still glorious and you will start to cry.

GM styling for the future (1953).

“And just then, what should happen but a great big horse’s /eye/ looked in through the window! And what d’ye think happened then, but a /great wind/ blew!…” Earlier the child said, “Watch your language,” and the performer switches it up on the fly in the most impressive way. And then the music and the crowd engaged and dancing happily… This is the way people should be, isn’t it. It doesn’t have to be Lousyworld. Feed the right wolf. Feed the right wolf.


Caccia Del Tesoro! (Treasure hunt!)

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-02-28) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

The Community Center of Mendocino’s Spring show is coming in April, featuring a full stage production –lights, sound, costumes, projection screens, the works– of /The Thief Lord/, that you heard a few weeks ago as a read-through on KNYO. The intro for that will be an original short play (20 minutes) by Kylie Felicich, called /Caccia Del Tesoro/, and last night’s Memo of the Air show began with a 20-minute read-through of that. So now you know.

As for the miscued sound effects and confused incidental music during the read-through, I plead back pain and tooth pain. I’m so sorry, gang. Every other button I pushed was the wrong one at the wrong time. And I made all kinds of mistakes today at work, and the first few tries of uploading the recording just now went wonky… I was just about to drive off to Juanita’s after typing this, but now I think I should just go to sleep and leave tomorrow. Then there’s the endodontist to look forward to on Monday, very near Juanita’s apartment. My first root canal. One of those life milestones. (It’s funny, when I write /root canal/ I hear it in my head in the voice of Morey Amsterdam.)

Anyway, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Smithsonian Open Access. This is huge.

Cars under streetlamps. (via

“A home isn’t a place to live– it’s a /financial instrument/.”

Stop-o-mation animated pancakes. 6,000 of them.

About color names.



And a six-year-old cockatiel with a bok choy leaf on its head.

Robot-written, sung and marimba’d. The future.

Sliding and gliding.

Cat fu.

The story of gated reverb.

The largest chord.


The superb owl.

The magnetic river.

A magnetic river running in circles through the middle of a stroke victim’s brain, thrilling it with healing magnetism.

Another lovely lathe project.

The fart scale.

A song to memorize your hermetic fundamentals.

This explains it. Kids don’t have time for smoking and drinking and experimenting with sex and spraypainting their glyph on things anymore. (via TYWIKIWDBI)


Smoke bomb in a bomb book release party.

“Trump with the toilets. I’m talkin’ nine inches, here.” (via Everlasting Blort) Don’t forget to unmute the sound.

Making a concrete guitar.

Endless* oceanscapes for your YouTube-playing giant teevee.

Watching freshly-corrected historical videos reminds me of the science-fiction book /Old Twentieth/ by Joe Haldeman. It’s pretty good, and I remember I especially liked the creepy ambiguous tail-of-the-dream way it ends.

An endless stream of A.I.-generated art. Let me know if you ever get to the bottom of the page, because I don’t think there is any bottom to it.

120-year-old photographic plates found, developed.

Communist Chinese advertising posters.

Before you take your car in for an oil change, watch this 20-minute video.

RC ekranoplan.

StarCrash! (This came out the same year as Star Wars.)


There’s a not-too-hard math trick you can do to figure it out, or you can just look at the chart. I read an article about someone who crashed the rail on the sixth floor of a parking garage and went all the way to the ground in his car, and I wondered how fast he was going when he struck the ground, to compare it to crashing into a tree or a dump truck. I figured 60-80 feet, so it’s thirty or forty miles-per-hour. Seat belt, shoulder harness and airbag and you’d be shaken but intact. Remember when that truck driver drove his logging truck over the side of Albion River Bridge? This is like that, except without twenty tons of logs behind it.

Where peppers come from. Bon appetit. (via TYWKIWDBI)

Better and better. It won’t be long now. (via TYWKIWDBI)

Shock, get-it-together, resolve, triumph. Put yourself in her place, feel that. (via TYWKIWDBI)

Design. (via TYWIKIWDBI)

It looks so fun! (via TYWIKIWDBI)

Adorable black cats swimming and playing together in the lake. (via b3ta)

Big peaceful animals. (via NagOnTheLake)

The Myers aeroplane hat. (via

The pope for me.

And a glossary of censored words from a 1919 treatise on love. /Bad words, you seven./ You can turn the pages for more.


John’s not a squealer.

     “When secretly pyrokinetic co-ed LaTawndra, shy heiress to the Hot Pockets fortune, hires very ripped swoon-worthy time-traveling fireman/spy/luthier-apprentice Zack to protect her against an undead dragon-shifter horde, will their scorching sexual chemistry break all the rules? [6 upvotes]”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-02-21) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

I’ve been told that I’m too cryptic and that I should explain things more. Okay: I remembered a magazine ad from my youth for a then-new kind of toilet valve designed to be quiet, to turn the water on full-blast until the toilet tank was all the way full and then quickly shut off, to not squeal the whole last third of filling. Across the top of the ad it said, “John’s not a squealer,” and that stuck in my mind. I just searched for it from several different searchical angles, to see the ad, and apparently it’s too obscure even for Google. There’s a bunch of material in last night’s show about plumbing and toilets. And every show I read a couple of BookBub’s recommendations for books, where I checked the boxes for 1. children’s literature, 2. erotica, and 3. science fiction, so the result is always either a book about a little boy or girl duck, lizard, robot or dinosaur learning to tell time or cross the street, or a chesty-cover-art romance novel about vampires or werewolves (or werebears or weredragons, called dragon-shifters) (or firemen or Navy Seals or cowboys) in space and the human librarian, hand model, waiter/waitress or attractive young congressperson who they have to hire to protect them or pretend to be their wife or husband for an important space, um, thing, whatever, but they end up falling in love for real and always, in every case, /breaking all the rules/, so that explains the title, the goofy fake pull-quote and one minute of an eight-hour show. If there are no further questions.

Next week the whole first part of the show will be a brand-new live radio drama put on by Kylie Felicich’s Community Center of Mendocino theater group of kids, and I don’t know the title of the show or anything about it yet, except that it might be in Italian. Why don’t /you/ come in and be in the quiet but appreciative studio audience for their show and hang around after to recite poetry or show off your accordion chops or roll out your standup schtick? Mark it: 9pm Friday Feb. 28 in KNYO’s storefront performance space, 325 N. Franklin, Fort Bragg CA, next door to the Tip Top bar. You don’t have to get permission or arrange things in advance or even put on a clean shirt, or a shirt at all; this is radio. That’s the beauty of real radio. You don’t know, but in the old days a lot of radio people performed in nothing but socks and shorts and a cigar between the fingers, or they wore pyjamas and a bathrobe, or an animal suit, whatever they were comfortable in as long as it didn’t muffle their mouth or pose a danger hazard or create what the law calls an attractive nuisance, like when tourists climb up a stupidly designed sculpture and fall and hurt themselves. A lot of those shows, the audiences too came dressed, or undressed, like the later beatnik hippie freaks, like the /Rocky Horror Picture Show/, for example, which was written by fans of Jack Benny, Joan Alexander, Korla Pandit, Arthur Godfrey, Rosa Rio, and so on. All their normal-in-the-bank but on the radio stage weird-with-a-beard (or the other way around) heroes.

Speaking of which, here are links to worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering last night’s show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Animal hat-heads.

Ze Frank – The mating dance of the peacock spider.

Randy Rainbow’s latest. Randy Rainbow is a national treasure.

Latest award winning landscape photography.

Groundhog Day for a black man.

Further but real-life Groundhog Day for a black man adventure. One of millions. It’s okay, you can watch this; he doesn’t get shot. But when he gets out of the car to go ask the policeman something, you’re like, /No. Stay in the car. Just get away./


Diabetes, fine either way, nobody will judge you. It’s like either either.

The gardening-with-dynamite book. Bottom line: it’s good for the roots.

Inside view of a hedge.

Hairstyles of Mark Zuckerberg. (via Everlasting Blort)

How we get rabbit fencing.

Elemental mercury is twice as dense as iron, so a solid iron anvil floats twice as high out of the mercury as an anvil made of wood would float in water, but it still looks weird, and the guy’s pretty cavalier with his backyard buckets of enough mercury to poison the entire western United States, and maybe someone should do something about that.

“I wanta be addicted to rollerskating, not crack. Because kids who rollerskate today will go to college tomorrow!” That’s really true. It’s not just a cool thing to say. “I say no to drugs. I say no to meth. I say no to unplanned pregnancy. I say /yes/ to rollerskating.” (via

A new kind of rap song. I never saw a lot of The Muppet Show, but weren’t there some of the Muppets who sounded like this? It seems familiar.

This is fine.

This is like that.

Blanket octopockles.

The baby-Yoda-level-adorable tiny flapjack octopockle.

Flying snake, lizard, frog, fish, etc. They’re really only flying like a paper airplane flies, but in slow-motion it looks pretty cool, especially the snake that makes a wiggly wing of its whole body by /stretching all its individual ribs out flat/. [Spoiler alert:] When the lizard gets away because /surprise!/ it can fly too I’m exactly equally happy for it and sad for the hungry snake. And what if they both found something else to eat and became friends? Wouldn’t that be nice. They could climb and fly around together and laugh and play and, later on, cuddle out of sight of the other animals who would shun them and laugh at them and call them perverts if they knew, but it wouldn’t matter because they’re friends and they have each other. But then they’d start getting tattoos and weird earrings in even weirder places and develop an unemployable attitude, and what are ya gonna do? They have to find out for themselves; it’s their lives.

This is a test.

And that’s what comes of thinking. At last, though, there is a solution.

See, she’s crying. Her eyebrow and eye floating in the air in front of her face are dripping with tears. His are too. Screaming and swearing doesn’t help.

An x-ray of why not to put your feet up on the dashboard.

Death roulette. (Click on Spin That Wheel.)

The Snowdons of yesteryear.

The new donkey bike. (via Nag On The Lake)

As I understand it, three or four obscenely wealthy tired old men have ordered everybody to be kicked out of here to flatten all this and put up a couple of giant ugly buildings instead to obscenely wealthify themselves further, because that’s life. Or, in French, c’est la vie. In Samoan: o le olaga lena. Or /ith am beairteach/; that’s /eat the rich/ in Scottish Gaelic. Maybe not, though. Maybe it’ll be better, something wonderful.

Sculptures made of dryer lint.

Geodes made of felt.

How we get fireworks.

Some more about the new way of making films. They ring a set with video screens to make, like, the room in Ray Bradbury’s story /The Veldt/.


The Bosch parade. (via Nag On The Lake.)

The peanut vendor (1933). “Buy a bag of peanuts now before you sleep.”

Sea creatures of New South Wales.

Ol’ Cthulhu No. 9.

Trains of the future.

The Boing 377 Stratocruiser. (Scroll down for color, and for the cutaway diagram.)

Dreamlike flight…

…And some more. This makes me think of the first fifteen minutes of the movie /Tomorrowland/. Remember where young Frank says, “Because if people see someone fly overhead with a jetpack it will inspire them.”

Of the two, I like the cat whose hands are bigger. They seem like two old people having a kind of dialogue over lunch on a park bench.


Axolotl nuns.

Superior kangaroo tendon sutures.

I see this as a perfect peaceful zen Tom Waits recharging between gigs, dreaming up his next brilliant poetic sandpaper vocal-fry electric-bullhorn gargle.

A great game. A bit of danger involved.

To hear the bosses tell it.

But is it racist, much less “clearly racist”, if they can’t possibly have been serious or they’re just high on mushrooms? I mean, what the frack /is/ this? (Next there will turn out to be millions of people in the world who find this arousing, with secret clubs where they all dress up like various versions of this and poke at each other’s teeth and stuff.) (And weren’t there Star Trek aliens like this? And if not, why not?)

And this similar offense: some egregious anti-water-elf racist cosplay here, or maybe anti-Red-Shiny-Robots-Of-Vortis. (via Everlasting Blort)

Conducting. (Click the sound on.)


Some car ideas from the real space age.

Construction workers atop the Chrysler Building. Pounding on eagles.

Weavers of memory.

Hydraulic press channel top 100.

Skyrim in real life. (via

2,600 undelivered letters from the Dutch version of 1926. Even the website is like a treasure hunt.

All up in everybody’s bidness.

Rerun: Under.

You’ll notice they all seem to be boys, though. This makes me think of Sherry Glaser’s Mother Nature routine.

This is actually three tricks. The mirror is a red herring.

This art makes me think of the mechanical video pixels in William Gibson’s and Bruce Sterling’s book /The Difference Engine/ (about computers in an alternate Victorian-era England).

Choose a genre and mood, suggest a topic, and this A.I. will write decent song lyrics for you, and then all you have to do is form a band and practice in your buddy’s garage for awhile and attract a neighborhood following, and pretty soon you’ll be playing at school events, and weddings, and in park bandshells on holidays, and then get scouted and get a record contract. Avoid alcohol, heroin and bad management, don’t sweat the small stuff, get enough sleep even when on the road, and that’s all the advice I have for you. You’re just coming into your power and this is an exciting time, kid.

An infomercial for a company that makes old-fashioned LP records, that’s a fast walk-through of how records are made, in case you ever wondered…

…but they left out the part when the lathe cuts the lacquer in the first place. You can always look that up if you like, but here is a good explanation of the mechanical motion of the cutting head itself, using an oversized demo model the guy set up so you can really understand how two separate signals get cut into the same groove, for stereo:


The Laird of Loch Aucherlocherty.

     “It was all over in a moment: a blinding flash of lightning, the report of a musket, a great peal of thunder, and the motor bearing the devoted girl hurled headlong over the cliff!”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-02-14) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Recently unearthed photographs by Zaharia Cusnir (say Zay-ha-RY-yuh Choosh-NIR), Moldavian (Mult-ee-FEE-ung) amateur photographer who died (DY-yed) in 1993.

Further adventures in old film. (Skip to 2:40.)

Quaint crashes of the old days.


Fun with beans.

Bird sounds competition.

Underwater music.

All the live cams in the Monterey Bay aquarium on one page. (via Everlasting Blort)

Japanese gas tanks.

Japanese earthquake.

Who likes to rock the party? New Zealand likes to rock the party.×1000/media/img/photo/2020/02/photos-week/w23_1204125341/original.jpg

How they moved them. (via Everlasting Blort)

Puppydog bouncin’ inna box like this. (click the sound on) (via Everlasting Blort)

Creepy. And look at the red line on the timeline; if the video doesn’t start at the beginning, drag it back and start at the beginning, because otherwise none of this makes any sense.

/Really/ creepy.

Listen to asshat Donald Trump in 1991 pretending to be his press agent, saying puffy things about his asshat self to a magazine reporter on the phone.

I just like to look at this, like I like to look at a wall of all different cheap wristwatches, or fancy guitars in a catalog. It’s a rotary-dial cell phone that in our distant future will be the sacred amulet of a dynasty of pants-less and illiterate inbred feudal kings of an eensy mountain valley pocket of slightly less radioactive habitability in Peru.

Entotsuya Peroo.

Mimimal republics.

The first one is the safest-looking one. Certainly safer than using a regular splitting maul.

How lens choice affects perceived speed.

New slow motion video of cheetah and greyhound running.

Tiny guns, pointy, pointy.


You think Joe Biden isn’t a senile lunatic? Here he is on video talking to a bunch of kids at a public pool about how tough he was before the hair on his legs turned gray, back when kids /just like you little guys/, he says, liked to come up and rub his hairy legs and watch the hair move around, I think it was back in the ’50s, when he had to face down a gangster with only a length of rusty gate chain and his wits because he had called him Esther Williams instead of Corn Pop, the gangster’s real name, and an opportunity for anticlimactic apology ensued. So the whole thing is pool-themed, because Esther Williams, kids. You don’t know who Esther Williams is? What kind of stupid dog-faced pony soldiers are they raising up around here? Why, in /my/ day… *shakes fist at cloud*

“Tell me honestly. Did you really climb that mountain to get that holy sword? I don’t want you to judge me anymore. You have to accept my meth addiction. Thank you, Bobbert. Things are going well, aren’t they. You know why I’m mad.”

This is movies now.

This is dogs now. Yeech. I mean, that’s what you call a yeech-dog, because that’s just what you say when you look up and see it. That or /fuck! what is that!/ Or /kill it! kill it with fire!/

And Carmen Miranda sings Chattanooga Choo Choo, to clear your mental etch-a-sketch screen of the yeech dog thing.

Johnny Tolengo, el majestuoso.

     “Queer how one regrets the dispersal of anybody who seemed, as I say, genuine: who had direct contact with life, for he abused me; and I yet rather wished him to go on abusing me; and me abusing him.” -Virginia Woolf

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-02-07) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Johnny Tolengo, el majestuoso.

Marula Eugster Rigolo. You may have seen others do this trick before. This is better, for me, because they show her hands shaking and how hard it is for her.

“He’s not gonna run. He wants this stuff off his feet and he will let me take it off.” What a nice man, to help a little guy like this, though I think that’s a female, from the markings.

They just retired the Spitzer space telescope. Here’s a little story about it. (Whenever I read or see a story like this it always reminds me of when Jimmy Durante said, “/Tell/ me, Mister James, now just what did /joo/ accomplish?”)

Comic books. Stay in school, kid.

High kick, high kick, this is how we do it. (via b3ta)

Rerun: Painting in virtual reality.

This is a real place.

And so is this:

And so is this.

And, ahem, psychic martial arts schools. The short-of-attention-span might want to skip ahead to 10:45.

And this. Sex demon exorcised with a curse and a comic /bonk!/ and a /C’mout! C’mout! C’mout o’ dere!/

“Jeff Hillyard was working as a forklift salesman when he saw a call on Facebook for guys willing to pose as mermen.”



Juanita found this beach art. It’s like Andy Goldsworthy’s but with colors involved.

Pictures of walls.

Routines of standups.

Facts of food.

Infrared time-lapse. (Cool things, the sky, for example, are dim; warm things are bright.)

How to make your own spaghetti hentai, whatever that is.

Fun with your microwave oven. And safety tips.

Musical fun with video games. (via

The future.

“The humbler is here. This is the way it’s going to be, baby.”

The best of four SNL big game Totino’s ads. The actress with the bunny teeth always reminds me of a little girl named Cinnamin who, with a little boy named Andy, used to come to my weekly public access variety teevee show (The Radio *Free Earth Teevee Show) in the 1980s and introduce the show and wind up the clockwork theme music box.


The stick-ball is in the tree. Dogs invent flight to go get it.

Meanwhile: cat.

Mad /scientist/.

Mass incarceration. The whole pie.

“Exquisitus Sunset Mitchelhamm.” “Oracle of Vidunatru.”

Alex Jones via the AVA.

I remember these guys fondly from when they were fresh. Here they are on teevee almost fifty years ago. One of the comments on this video stuck in my mind, something like, They go, “You got four minutes.” “It’s a seven minute song.” “Well then ya better get started, because you’re off the stage in four minutes.” “Okay, hold my beer and watch this.”

A new tabletop [virtual] pinball machine, and other games, shown off by the designer/builder. Pretty cool.

Maximum trombonica.


Further aerial shots of dogs driving sheep around, making fluid shapes, like that thing clouds of birds and locusts and dust bowls and vast galaxies do sometimes, whether you chase them and bark or not.

“I feel like a deer. In the headlights of love.” “I am the queen of the universe. The waves part. They engulf me and the water is warm.” “I can’t stand it when she touches me.” (My favorite is when the old man does the karate dance they all have to do and he hurts his back. I’m not happy he hurt his back, but the small-but-significant pain sound he makes is funny– the moment of recognition that you’ve done some damage and it’s gonna really start hurting in a minute. I have personal experience of this.) Also all the black women who say “Shut up, just shut up” know how to say shut up better than the white people do. I don’t think it’s racist of me that I think that, but if you do, then fine, you’re the racist. That’s not the only thing black women are better at. They make top-notch astronauts, ask anybody. They don’t have macho for-show-decision spasm and push the wrong button… Wait, I take it back; my favorite is the one about a third of the way in who says, “He’th inthide the clothet. I had him thtuffed.” And then, later, “I’m Melody Yancy,” for best eyebrow wiggle.

Dinosaurs fell in love.

Dream cream. Drugs, not even once, kids.

Charl’ say blah blah blah. Bulah bulah bulah.

“I died today.” (via

Before and after. (via

Mammals of Australia.

All the little things living in just a tiny square of this man’s yard.

Big shapes made of little shapes. (via NagOnTheLake)

The video loops to let you watch a new kid every time. They really are different right out of the box, as well as out of the gate.

I haven’t seen them all yet, but so far my favorite is No. 35, The Honda Choir.

Paper or plastic. (via Everlasting Blort)

How we get corks. It seems wasteful, but you don’t see the use they make of the bark left behind after the corks are punched out of it, and taking the bark off doesn’t kill the cork trees; they grow new bark every ten years and live to be hundreds of years old. There are still-productive cork trees now that were alive in the 1700s. They like you to take it off them. They’re like sheep, where if you don’t shear them they get all bound up and suffocate.

Downhill forest bike (5). Mist and leaves rush past the eye (7). Huffing and puffing (5).

“Oh, Boy! /That’s/ the Girl! The Salvation Army Lassie! (Keep Her on the Job.)”

“However, it doesn’t really matter to me what people say, I only demand respect.”

Dang it! Come /on/! Phaw! Jeez. This time– NO! C’mon-c’mon-c’mon. (Also not a ferret, an ermine, rather. An ermine is a weasel. A ferret is more of a polecat. Same family: Mustelidae. I don’t think you can hybridize them. Also, ermine is another word for stoat, which means naughty. Cute.)

Make America kittens again. (A Chrome add-on.)


The future.

“Mum loves me now. All of a sudden, she just started /loving me/. Thanks, Bile Beans Intestinal Laxative with tauroglycocholate!”

This makes me think of the French film /The Science of Sleep/. I don’t clearly remember any of the actors but Charlotte Gainsbourg. She was born in 1971, and Science of Sleep was in 2006, so– thirty-five years old in the movie. That doesn’t seem right. It seems like she was a teenager. Hmm. I liked the cardboard animation.

The coronavirus game.×511.jpg

Coding in classical Chinese.

Politics is a journey.

Brexit at a glance.

British children’s television. It’s odd, isn’t it.

“A shopping cart is not a hot-rod, you know.”

Reporting from the greatest deliberative body in the world /for me to POOP ON!/

The making of the DragonballZ flipbook –fattest flipbook ever. (Action starts at about 15 minutes in.)

We’re not so different, you and I.

And a short film that will kick you in the chest.

12 Monkeys.

     “The good warrior must understand how ghostly it will be when all this world of wealth stands wasted, as now, in many places about this massive earth, walls stand battered by the wind, covered by frost, the roofs collapsed. The wine halls crumbled; the warriors lie dead, cut off from joy; the great troop all crumpled. Proud by the wall, one war took, led to his death. One a bird lifted over the high sea. One the hoary wolf broke with death. One, bloody-cheeked, a warrior hid in a hole in the ground. Likewise God destroyed this earthly dwelling, until the strongholds of the giants stood empty, without the sounds of joy of the city-dwellers. Then the wise man thinks about the wall, and deeply considers this dark life. From times far away the wanderer recalls the deadly slashes and says, What happened to the horse? What happened to the warrior? What happened to the gift-giver? What happened to the wine hall? Where are the sounds of joy?”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-01-31) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life, and you go back and back until you’re just a speck, and further, not even a speck, and then where are you, huh? Where’s your joy then, riddle me that.

Metaphysics aside, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Plus loin sur le sujet de la mort de Monsieur Creosote.

Also he was an avid historian and president of the Royal Geographical Society. Here’s a whole show he made about how people lived in England in Medieval times. (30 min.)

Not boiling, bur roiling. The roiling surface of our sun, the heating system. Just a tiny section of the picture.

How to get an astronaut to read a story to your child from a closet in space.

How to avoid the Wuhan virus.

A clever way to explain wealth inequality so anyone can understand it, though they use pumpkin pie, which is disgusting, and perhaps that’s part of the point.

Generate music.

A generated musical roller coaster.

“Take that, you ostrich skeleton!”

Woman-yelling-at-cat meme: the rest of the story.

They’ve come to save us. Noble magic rats. It’s whoop-ass time.

Pew! Pew-pew-pew! “I’ll. Come. Out. Let. Her. Go.”

Saw that coming.

“This human meat has practiced just letting the energy flow through her.” That’s his wife he’s talking about (and pulling the imaginary energy strings of). Be sure to click the video’s mute off, to hear. (via Everlasting Blort)

Which, of course, rerun: New-age massage.

Hourly-updated coronavirus death dashboard.

The trolley problem. Think it through. These people did.

Two silhouettes on the shades.


Petrov,Yelyena and me.

Nature red in tooth and claw, and fin and flagellum and cartilaginous poignard and luminous bewitching uvula.


An elaborate setup and full follow-through of a prank against a person who so totally deserves it. Stick with it; it’s only ten minutes. Katie Hopkins wins the award. The world C.U.N.T. award.

The Bernie blackout.

A prospective Super Bowl ad banned by the NFL.

I love this. An old man on park bench starts singing, pretty soon everyone else in the park is singing along.

Is that nice? Yes.


Botswana time-lapse. I’m not sure why but it makes me think of the intro to the teevee series Carnivale.

Rerun: Because of all the sand which is there.

I like the sound of it.

“It’s like confetti but it’s bodies.” (18 min.) (via

Stochastic variation on the GANfield model.

Rerun: music controlling shocks to face muscles.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Walt Disney’s and Salvador Dali’s “Destino” but with with Pink Floyds “Time / Breathe (Reprise)” (via

Snow monsters.

Clever squared.

This is real.

As is this:

Curious photos of Cynthia, a superstar mannequin in the ’30s. (via Everlasting Blort)

He knows his Platonic forms, do you?

The American fetish map. Puns are not on it, nor mathematics; I looked. Suits are on it, though. I don’t understand that at all. What kind of suits? Geek suits, like in /Pulp Fiction/? Bathing suits? Furry suits? Business suits? It’s awfully broad.

Bat soup. Exactly what it says on the tin.

Some tart’s coat. What a relief.

Ohhhh. So cute. Cute little animals with a cast on their broken leg.

Who does this guy remind you of. In your life.

School. It’s like the machine/creature/whatever in the tunnel under the lighthouse in the Natalie Portman film /Annihilation/, which is like Tarkovski’s /Stalker/.

You’re taking a risk every time you open your mouth. You can’t live in fear.

If a regular car company tooled up a factory to make cars like this now they could be so cheap. Everyone would want them. They’d be all over the roads. They’re so beautiful. Especially the one on top. (via Everlasting Blort)

Whale crank. (via Everlasting Blort)

Dance. (via Everlasting Blort)

The snake dance. Think how proud the snake puppeteers must have been at how well it turned out. Think how much fun the pretty dancer and other actors had making this. And the carpenters and costume people and just everybody involved.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

“It’s okay, lady, you can /esqueeze/ my horns.”

Demo of new speaking simulator game. “I mah-dell fung-kee bass line. Can you help me fit in?” It’s like Robin Williams pretending to be Stephen Hawking angry at the damn kids, “Don’t may-ek me get out of this cheh-err.” (down-turn pitch at the end)

The secret of taking vivacious photographs? /Squinching./ It hard to tell anymore, but I think this might be a joke. In the first pair of photos the non-squinched example is nicer looking than the same woman squinched. Go to the mirror and try it. See if squinching is for you. Squinch. Or not squinch. Hmm.

And a new video game that exercises your vaginal muscles. The controller fits up in there, entirely out of sight. You can play it anywhere: on the bus, at a job interview, in church, skiing, etc. No-one has to know. It’s your little secret. So we’ve come full-circle; the ancient Akkadians used polished pebbles and their imagination. True story.

The Thief Lord of CCMTP.

     “And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-01-24) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

This show begins with Community Center of Mendocino Theater Project’s /The Thief Lord/ read live at KNYO as a radio drama, for like the table reading of getting ready to do the play on stage soon, next month, I think; I’ll let you know when I find out more. The reading runs about an hour-and-a-half. It’s a magical detective love story of danger, Italian orphans, daring, intrigue and betrayal– and stealing things, such as the gryphon-wing-shaped crucial part of a weird antique merry-go-round that makes the old young and the young old, whether they like it or not. And afterward, there’s the rest of a regular Memo of the Air show. Not too shabby, eh?*

Besides that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Mister Creosote est mort.


Another pleasant musical toy to mess with.

Apparently I am most like a red-tailed hawk. What bird are you most like?

Robot pigeon wings.

The landings. In order. See how they learned to do it.


Nods and becks and wreath’d smiles.

A dream of an abandoned amusement park, with theme music.

The story of why Valerie Solanas, author of /Up Your Ass/ and /The S.C.U.M. Manifesto/, shot Andy Warhol in the lungs, spleen and stomach, and also Fred Hughes in the leg.

Mandalorian as classic comix.

Everyone shut up and look at this coffee advertisement.

Dude, your fly is wet. Wet balls, dude.

Moonlight. Dubba-dubba-dubba.


WW1 in color. (via Everlasting Blort)

Yay, science! A clear path to a universal cancer treatment. (And if you still hate science, you’d still be free to pray to the Kali or Zeus, or get a therapeutic air massage or an equally noninvasive psychic surgery in Singapore, or go to to Tijuana and have all your teeth pulled out and eat powdered peach pits and drink diluted teaspoonsful of hydrogen peroxide during the full moon, and then later on claim that it was the magic treatment that did the trick.)

Emerson Lake & Palmer, live in Zurich fifty years ago. It’s a bit uneven, but they were kids. Genius kids. (52 min.)

Long light.

Dog in guitar case.

Egypt me.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

“Can I continue to use Windows 7?” “Yes.”

$89,000. So cheap for all that space, and the kitchen and antique pool tables and vampire closets and everything. You could start your own Umbrella Acacemy.

Kung Fu Forensic Shamus Cook. Spoiler: not getting away with it. (via Everlasting Blort)

The Joker (1908). Silent and blue.

“The finest nerve tonic and exhilarator ever discovered.”

How high.

Agua caliente cabrezi montaggio fala-FOO-tra problemico, mangia don-ja kwanza-sinatra prosciutto!

How to speak in tongues. “If I had a /gun/ in your ribs you could do it faster!” “Corporal snarf tunnel ha ha ho! This is normal, let the whole world be normal!”

Deetian love song.

Something cool you can do with like $5000-worth of magnet balls.

Something cool you can do with free crap from the appliance-save-out at the dump.

Click the video sound on.

Ze Frank – Mating Dance of the Puffin.

Well, exactly.

Randy Rainbow’s latest.



All the money.


A leisurely bike ride through Tokyo. One 48-minute take.

A daredevil bike virtuoso.


The lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. You are transparent. It sees… many things.

There it is, Alan, right there in black and white. You were right. They are here.

Inside the escalator.

I skipped you past the mechanics of the thing to the action. It’s a power-drill-cocked 80-shot auto-fire-crossbow.

3D-printed 3,000-year-old mummy larynx says, “Bheh. Bheh.” *(Ancient Egyptian for /feh/, or /meh/, or perhaps /okeh/.)

And imaginary ruins. The gallery’s at the bottom.

Rhinoceros II.

     “Only the previous day, Arch had found him in a spirit-dance corral, blistering the creatures to the point of death, such was his need to touch and destroy.” –Frank Beddor

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-01-17) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

This particular eight-hour show ends with a solid fifty-minute interview from Snap Sessions last year between Doug Nunn and Tracy Burns about Tracy’s fabulous career in performing and teaching improv comedy. And I just want to mention now, because I forgot to on the air until deep into it: /Next/ week’s MOTA show (9pm, Jan. 24), the first hour-and-a-half or so will showcase Kylie Felicich’s cast of dozens of theater-show-veteran kids, from three feet high to maybe five feet high, in /The Thief Lord/, true live radio drama in KNYO’s storefront performance space at 325 N. Franklin in Fort Bragg. Come early and there might be a chair for you to be in the very /studio audience/. Come late and gawk through the display window at what real local community radio is all about. And I want you hear me just now, in your head, announcing that in the tone-of-voice of Dom DeLouise in /The Twelve Chairs/ exulting, “Ya ya YA! Ya ya YA!”

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Something sphinx around here.

Too many attachments.


Ziegfield. Ziegfield! /BAM! BAM! BAM!/ Ziegfield, I know she’s in there! /I know she’s in there!/ BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

This is what being here now looks like. There’s no other thing going on for these creatures, no rehashing of decisions, no regrets, no plans, no past or future, just the object, the most fabulous object in the world. Just for a flash. Then it all starts up again, the sniffing, the worrying, the looking around for opportunity or a place to lie down.

Who’s a g’boy? /You/ are. /You’re/ a good boy.

Rerun: Wonderful old woman and her Mini-Me.

The ten kinds of movies.

Latwnya the naughty horse, learns to say no to drugs.

Emily Yacina – Stephanie. (via

How we get ice-cream cones. Surpisingly, it involves x-rays. Sugar cones are harder than waffle cones, so they’re a better choice for harder ice-cream. And there are “cake cones”. I didn’t even know they had that.

I’m enjoying imagining people smart enough to figure out a thing like this, going about their normal day, moving amongst us, buying groceries and saying hi and bye, and so on, as though we’re we’re the same species, to be polite to us.

Praise The Eye. How religion works, part [some big number; I’ve lost count].

Model citizen.

Rerun: How the Mellotron works.

William Tell Overture.

I looked at the picture and started reading, and my whole body tensed up and I choke-squeaked /NO!/

Can’t-Clog-It industrial-strength toilet.

How people sound.

African artists’ movie posters.

How to make them land. Change your carbon vibration.

Cartoons. I’m not sure I quite understand all of them, and I like that.

“I don’t know which one is telling the truth.”


Lovely brand-new sewers. How nice they are when they’re new. (Click through the gallery at top.)

Top ten Tom the Dancing Bug comics of the last decade.

Physics Girl on dark matter. But, speaking of Fermi, maybe dark matter is where everybody is. You know, “Where is everybody?” Maybe that’s where they all are, past their techno-singularity, compressed half-out of spacetime somehow. Maybe dark matter is the Heaven of the Rapture of the alien Nerds. Or the detritus of wars where fantastic weapons push the enemy and his ships and entire star systems out reality, and there’s mutually assured destruction, so nobody’s left around to tell about it, and it’s an inevitable war technology that galaxy-spanning civilizations all acquire at some point… I used to think that dark matter was just the mass of all the light between the stars, that the stars have been giving off all this time, but that’s not it, it turns out. I was really disappointed, because I felt so smart. That’s okay, I’m smart in other ways. I can juggle five bananas if they’re hard enough. Um, sorry, here’s Physics Girl:

A new kind of dancing where you act like the alien baby in the movie /Alien/ is about to come burst out, I think. The comments are rather unfair. If they don’t like it they don’t have to watch. Nobody’s forcing them to. It doesn’t look like fun, though. It looks like some kind of 1980s German performance art.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Rerun: Russian ice karting.

And /Dancin’ Queen/ played on the magnificent 100-year-old Hooghuys (rhymes with Louise) paper-strip-controlled pneumatic Gramont.

ABOF: Always be on fire.

     “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” –Didymos Judas Thomas

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-01-10) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Hong Kong ballet bolero.

“What he’s telling you is, /Don’t invade my space or I’ll attack you./”

“What will I have done?”


Italian Spiderman.


Per aspera ad astra. Excelsior. Up and at ’em, kid.

The Mandalorian as a spaghetti western. /Oo-eeyoo-eeyoo. Wah-WAAA-wah./

Throat Singing in Kangirsuk.

We Three (My Echo, My Shadow and Me). Not the version by the Ink Spots used in Episode 6 of /Watchmen/ but the one recorded by The Ladybugs in their large echoey dorm bathroom, accompanying themselves on uke and tastefully brushed snare. Say that– see how nice that feels: “Tastefully brushed snare.”

Samurai Guitarist makes easy songs hard in several clever different ways.

Whipped cream. Yum.

Photos. (via Everlasting Blort)

History of the Earth.

A collection of words used in fan-fiction to describe genitals. My favorite: The gates of Versailles. And I just now got that, it’s in the sense of seeing all the way to France.

Low riders in Japan. Sing to the tune of Ghost Riders in the Sky. (via Everlasting Blort)

Thousands of pulp magazines for free, to read on your computer, tablet or phone. There goes the winter.

Wronger boats.

“/Maybe/ if we weren’t so focused on all these bad things, all these bad things wouldn’t still be going on. Did you ever consider that?” “Nope. Not one time.”

$16,000 a page, a hundred years too late. Might as well be on the moon.

Oh, my God, a tan suit? A bike helmet, on a bike? No president has ever done anything worse.

Spike Jones. And that’s entertainment.


Before he cheats.

3,000-year-old brain fudge still astoundingly pleasantly scientifically valuably fudgy.

A lounge-lizard swing version of Jonathan Coulton‘s /Still Alive/ (end-theme music for the game /Portal/, where the makers of /Rick and Morty/ got the portal gun from. Full horn section. Just great.

Rerun: Pop jazz version of Master of Puppets concatenated with the real one.

And astronaut Gene Cernan’s closing statements. You know all about the first thing anybody said on the moon. Here’s the last thing. So far.



     “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” -Sun Tzu

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-01-03) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, the last show of the decade, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Trauma puppets.

Morphing simulated old-time beetles. Beetles of if.

Wrath of a jealous god-man.

Paint. (via Everlasting Blort)

Cool photos of the year.

Push Earth around in various ways to really understand seasons.

Rerun: Guards of the Sapphire City. (via Futility Closet)

Let the pageant begin!

This city has the right idea about what a city should be spending all the money on. It’s clearly working. Do you see any homeless people sleeping in piles of plastic bags and trash in this city? Does anyone look even the slightest bit ill or lonely or hungry, tired, cold, dispossessed, disenfranchised, melancholy, regretful, oppressed, addicted to opioids, buyer-remorsed, footsore, ennui’d, etc.? It’s like heaven– unless it’s like in The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas. That would be both unacceptable and hard to spot.

Our modern world.

Realistic typewriter typefaces for a change, in assorted levels of realism. Style F is a bit too distressed. Style /G/, now… Hmm. Just have it. You know you want it.

Valerie and Her Week of Wonders. I didn’t watch the film yet, but from the trailer I get the impression that 13-year-old Valerie is like Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz but instead she visits a weird city of sexy-dancing vampires who harmlessly burn or rather toast her at the stake and then have sex with her, or maybe it is all a dream, or maybe it’s like in /An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge/ and she’s hallucinating all this as she’s dying in the stake-fire. I get a kind of /The Fantasticks/ vibe from the trailer, or maybe Jodorowsky’s /El Topo/, or Tarsem Singh’s /The Fall/.

The dancing pig and its tongue.

The wonderful bus.

The original Snakes & Ladders game.

Well of death.

A funny war game. Nobody falls like a thunderbolt here; everyone falls like a googly-eyed slow-motion rag doll.

Syd Mead’s muse might have been Arthur Radebaugh. Here are a couple of places to learn about him and see some of his work:

And here’s the future we got instead of all that. “Serving up the image of diversity for your corp., school, any business.” On the one hand, at least there are some differently-colored people in this future; on the other hand, they’re imaginary people used to deceive. I suppose you could use this software to make a funny non sequitur-heavy webcomic, but that sort of thing is always the first thing that occurs to me.

And the past. Some photographs that caught my eye in Shorpy last week. Two of the American Indian men with Vincent Price in the next-to-last one are /survivors of the Wounded Knee massacre, when U.S. soldiers murdered hundreds of Indian men, women and children for no good reason at all, as if there ever could be a reason for that. In short, the soldiers were tense, they heard a sound, and they were armed to to the teeth with the killingest weapons of the time, and the sound set them off like the trigger of a mousetrap and they went crazy and shot everyone in sight, including some of each others/. I’ll bet you did not know that Vincent Price was a long-time chairman of the U.S. Department of the Interior’s Indian Arts and Crafts Board. Further, I’ll bet you did not know any other interesting facts about Vincent Price. For example, why do you think he spoke the way he did? What sort of an accent is that? No, he was not Armenian. Guess again. (Throughout Shorpy, click on images to make them enormous and sharp.)

Attention, pundits.

“I have spoken with God and made my decision to live on the ice. This is my home now… No, you’re not hearing me. This is /my/ home. Go get your own home. I was here first.” This is one way history works.

Lesser monsters to be children of.

When he goes up onto the porch and stands over the box, I think he’s going to piss on it, too, in addition to having thrown it around and punched a hole in it, even though you can tell he saw that he’s being photographed. He’s exhausted, his back hurts, he’s had it with this awful job, and who knows what else has gone horribly wrong in his life lately. We’re all doing the best we can. Ram Dass said, “We’re all just walking each other home.”

ABOF: Always be on fire.

Fire. This is fine.

Animated result of a star getting sucked into a black hole. (via Cliff Pickover’s Reality Carnival)




Train horns.

I skipped you ahead to the this-and-that comparison. The reddish-bronze-ish brand new Chinese sax is a seeminly impossibly low $270. The normal-colored one is $4,500. For the price of one pro saxophone you could give all 16 saxophone students in an entire school district one each. And just like with the comparison of the $15 (!) set of magnetic pickups on a Squier Strat and the $1000 trick pickup set on a $12,000 custom electric guitar with the same strings and essentially the same neck and bridge, sure, you can hear the difference if you really squint your ears but it’s so tiny, who cares? On the other hand, the $270 saxophone was probably produced in a factory prison city with anti-suicide webbing around the roof and all the high windows every because of what turnover means in a place like that. It’s a very pretty color. It looks like clockwork steampunk art. (It just occurred to me: the electric slide guitar I sweat-soldered together all those years ago out of copper plumbing parts might be that color if I were to polish it with patina powder. Hmm.)

Town becomes lake. Twenty-five years later, lake dries up, leaving a really interesting place to make a movie in. Somebody should totally do that.

God damn, I love movies. Good ones, yeah, but even shitty ones. Trailers, soundtracks, the sea of video jackets in an old rental store…




“She had up a sign saying, ‘Fifteen bob a night with use of cruet,’ and you were left, rather, weren’t you, wond’ring what on earth she meant.” What you notice right away in this interview is the odd similarity in aspect between the men’s nostrils and their eyes. The nostrils are little eyes.

Play a game of your own devising in collaboration with a conversation program.

If the shoe were on the other foot.

When we first see the woman she’s so happy. This is leading up to a peak experience, the best day of her life. Suddenly, it’s the worst, the absolute worst, and it switched in less than a second. He’s tired, frustrated with his job, very old, probably hungry, maybe his back hurts under the weight of fifty pounds of robes. She went there hoping to see him… but she never imagined she’d actually really /be/ this close to him. He’s moving along the line, agonizingly slowly getting closer and closer. See, others are brushing his robe, his sleeve, even holding his hand, interacting with him. Oh, my God, it’s going to happen! She will /speak/ with the Pope! He will see her, touch her! For the rest of her life she will have this moment! But he turns at just the wrong time, begins to move away. She grabs his hand, or rather her /hand/ grabs his hand, and he lashes out, or rather his /hand and mouth/ lash out… And I told Juanita the story of this. To me, I was excited to be telling something I learned about people, refining and reinforcing a story I could tell others, that might make me a little less likely to someday be any of the players in a similar story, might make others imagine themselves here and be better people, be more understanding and less fragile, more worldly and yet still able to feel. Learning to be a person. It’s education, rehearsal, writing. But to Juanita, it sounded like I was japing at a helpless person’s destruction, a person like her –she sees herself as the woman in the story (of course)– and what’s the matter with me that I will never fucking learn to not tell her that kind of story, and her head is down and she’s crying. And I’m like, Oh, no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m just like the snippy Pope, I can’t help myself. And at the same time, I’m like the adoring woman, too, and you try to do the right thing and the other person doesn’t react right and it’s awful… This is like that… But… I just looked at it again, and it’s the exact same video but this time it’s all different from what I saw before. The woman doesn’t look happy or anticipatory at all, the whole time. And I can’t understand her language, but she might be angry. Yeah, she’s angry from the start. Maybe she came there to kvetch at him about a church policy or child molestation or an infallible executive popely action of his whose repercussions devastated her family in some faraway place, and even if he couldn’t understand her he sensed her ire and criticism, he looked right at her; maybe that’s why he turned away, flinched away from her intensity… It’s really true that our lived lives are more about the stories we tell ourselves, from limited snatches of perception, than about what’s really going on, which we only find out later if even at all. Or maybe it’s a third thing, or a hundred things, a different thing for everyone in the picture. Here’s where I say out loud to myself, as I do several times a day, “Stop thinking about that,” though this time it’s more in a /that’s sorted out, next item now/ way than a mortified or a /bad dog!/ way.

Shut the fridge!

The Underwood Typewriter Girl then and now. I had a Royal. Underwood and Royal were like Coke and Pepsi.

The godmother of drumming. Very workmanlike, understated, professional.

Superlatively skilled animal-sound guy.

Famous opera singer Cecilia Bartoli, but time-and-pitch distorted, and video modified on what’s called a content-aware scale. I had to look that up, so you do to.

Everything you need to know.

Stupid meaning of life. (Muttered bitterly to oneself.)

The scale of Australia’s fires.

“New wearable vest grows a self-sustaining garden watered by your own urine. Designer Aroussiak Gabrielian says each cloak can grow up to 22 crops.” (This makes me think of vampire Laszlo’s vagina-theme topiary in /What We Do In The Shadows/. But with more crops.)

Writer says, “I don’t care if I’m 36 years old. I would play with this all day long.” (There was a toy that I felt that way about, that belonged to my Ohio cousins when I was little, that was a face-down half-sun with motors and gears in it and little planets that moved around on tracks, and speed and lever controls that spun the whole thing and raised and lowered a little rocketship on a wire to rescue a magnet off one planet and carry it to another without dropping it. This car thing is nice but that planet game toy was the most fabulous object in the world. I still dream about things like it, almost 60 years later.) (I just wasted ten minutes, just now, trying to find the planet toy and not getting anywhere. If you ever find a picture of something you think is that, please contact me; I’d like to see it, compare it with my memory.)

Ammunition for the war on Xmas.

I like these people. Their life seems precarious, but they obviously have it under control. As they say, they’re still afloat.

“Oh, they’re /so/ much– oh, the /fat/ pens are /way/ better!”

A new kind of clock face.

“This is significant because political groups who understand the algorithm can use it as a sort of gullibility funnel to pour bullshit down the throats of people who don’t have a proper gag reflex for propaganda.”

My favorite is a tossup between “The adverb of willy nilly is willilly nillilly.” (and) the one where Scarlett Johansson is fighting with Adam Driver and the text inserted is, “The Oxford comma removes ambiguity! Your parents are not Ayn Rand and God!”

TYWKIWDBI’s best of 2019. And there goes your day.

And similarly never click here if there’s something you should be doing later.


     “I know you really want someone to hold you. But we all got a chicken-duck-woman-thing waiting for us. Every day I worry all day about what’s waiting in the bushes for us, about what’s waiting in the bushes of love.” –BLR

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2019-12-27) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, the last show of the decade, ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life, but when the most durable alternative proven to last the ages –for the alien archeologists to come and dig up in 4,000 years– would be the Netflix model but mailing out three-foot-high stacks of vinyl records… Nah, this way is fine.

Eleanor Cooney called to explain and read from her new book /Midnight in Samarra: The True Story of WMD, Greed, and High Crimes in Iraq/, I just wanta say that first. Before and after that, there’s an expanded poetry section, as well as the usual overload of quirky information on every subject plus one. And it ends with a recorded interview with comic book artist/musician/philosopher R. Crumb, who says “ya know” a lot, but we do know, so we can cut him a little slack in that regard. Also Alex called with a travelogue of ten states in a Hyundai (say HUN-day; the Y is silent). Recipes, DIY fixes, offensive jokes and gestures, the annual year-end roundup of things Americans got stuck up their butt and had to go to the E.R. for, the world in a nutshell, good night radio, hence the term. Elmore James’ got nothing on /this/ [unintelligible].

*There was a problem with getting connected to KMEC Ukiah, so the show was only on KNYO. We’ll get that fixed by next week. If you have friends in Ukiah or basically anywhere that isn’t Fort Bragg, you might let them know that in a pinch they can listen to Memo of the Air and anything else on KNYO in real time (and the sound quality is pretty good, too) by going to

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the last MOTA show of the decade* together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Serious size.

Strange planet.

The best space photos of 2019. Click on top image to reach the gallery.

Rerun: holiday/end-times favorite /The Big Snit./ There’s a lesson here.

And /Anna & Bella/ again.

Victoria d’Orazi used to live next door to Juanita but moved to Grass Valley. Here she is singing /Take Me To The River/ with not only great enthusiasm but also her new band. More and more drummers in bands now play that kind of drum that’s a chair; it sounds just as good and it sets up in the time it takes to set it down. Victoria makes me think of Carie McAlpine, do you hear/see that too?

Not just Italians, then, though Italians have the best sweary gestures. I often do them on the radio. You can’t see it, but it’s like smiling when you say a sponsor’s name; it enhances the effect nonetheless.

Another horrifying Xmas tree fire demo. Ten seconds after the spark the (demo) house is as good as gone. This is a normal tree just like yours, unless you have a metal one. The metal ones are dangerous too but on a lesser scale: dads poked in the eye putting it together, cats choking on metal shards, toddlers electrocuted by fairylight wiring touching the metal, but that hardly ever happens. When I was small, in my grandparents’ Italian restaurant in Burbank we had a tree that was all metal and took about twenty minutes to assemble, from box to finished. It was put up in the restaurant window with a little spotlight with an attached color-gel wheel on a rotisserie motor, and I remember staring at that placidly fascinating thing until they had to pull me away. Just going near it I’d be fixed in place, trapped, changing colors inside and outside right along with it. The motor was old, noisy, erratic; it sped up and slowed down so you could count the seconds for the color to change but it was never the same time twice, and the tree was so shiny and sparkly. I have this superimposed in my mind with the big chrome car bumpers and rocketship-shaped rocketships of the time (mid-20th-century Googie space-age). But which is more rocket-like in fiery actuality? The appearance of the metal tree? or the following natural old-fashioned rocket motor disaster time-bomb that plays out in thousands of houses every year, providing jobs not for a handful of pocket-protected aerospace engineers but for countless firemen and insurance agents and construction workers and furniture makers and appliance factories, sheets and curtains, clothing, windows, paint, teevee people, plumbers, funeral directors… Take the tree outside. And next year get or make a metal one. There are beautiful ones people have made out of all sorts of things that don’t explode in flames and wreck your life even worse than a clown with a prehensile phallic puppet and pockets full of speed (see below).

Spanish anatomy class. (via Everlasting Blort)

Tiki pop. Mainly because: try to figure out the woman’s leg. Something’s not right. It’s like those African animals that Europeans in the middle ages painted, having never seen one, but going by an explorer’s description. It’s like bad taxidermy. But it’s her real leg.

Edward Hopper’s Jedi mentor. The midichlorians are strong in this one’s pencil.

This is the best one-hour rocket science lecture for kids that I’ve ever seen.

Miss America wins on strength of colorful chemistry volcano demonstration.

How to escape a supernova.

…Or we can all succumb to religious bullshit and our species goes nowhere forever. BASTA!


California explained.

Cake and pie related sex jobs available in the new economy. (via b3ta)

This holiday dance video is really uncomfortable viewing. The kids are clearly talented, but it’s creepy somehow. I half-remember that the clown with the goose/vulture puppet was arrested like a week before he died of old age anyway, because for all those years he had been giving kids drugs and molesting them. Yeah, that’s it. That’s why it’s creepy. Like all those Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney movies where they danced like wild-eyed herky-jerky electric mixers because of the pep pills.

Jazz hands, sloth-cat-thing. (via Everlasating Blort)

Meesa Claus get velly wet-wet longtime. How wude!

Trope talk: Kaiju. (15 min.)

I still like /Bushes of Love/, but this is pretty good. It’s about Yoda’s stick.

William S. Burroughs‘ /The Junky’s Xmas/ in Stop-O-Mation.

Vietnamese water puppets.

Cute ginger bovine.

The thing outside the window.

Checkin’ on the ewes. (via Everlasting Blort)

The sound of ice. It doesn’t sound safe but he shows you with a tool that it’s thick enough. When I was in high school I saw some reckless boys crash through inadequate ice once and it stuck in my mind. The boys weren’t in danger; it wasn’t deep there; they could stand on the bottom and it didn’t even come up to their butt, but it was a symptom. They were crazy twins and they were always doing something like that: diving one after the other the wrong way off a platform to barely miss the concrete, jumping their matching motorcycles from a blind trail into the middle of the highway, and so on. Just a few years after the ice event one of them crashed his motorbike into the back of a Volkswagen, flew through the air and was killed, so. Anyway, the sound of ice:

J.K. Rowling and the League of Disappointing Authors.

I’d like you to compare this with any kind of meditation or prayer or magical devotion to imaginary spiritual bullshit. Because this is thrilling and real and happening, and it’s just as good of a story.

Would attend this church. Would be on time and not sneak in late nor sit in the back. Would participate in the sacraments. Would scheme to slip our people into positions of power to manipulate the government in our holy image.

I don’t remember what I called the coolest thing ever last time; I’m not even searching for the term to find out what it was; whatever it was is entirely over, because this is the coolest thing ever. This, right here, and it’s surprisingly cheap ($70 for 292 parts equals 23 cents per part). Here’s an idea: Put one of these together for your third date with [fill in name] and then she gets to keep it. Later on when she moves in (because she will, and you know that because of how well you got along assembling this, neither of you flipping out from frustration nor taking over and taking it out of the other’s hands to do it right) you can play with it all you like. It’s not the best hurdy-gurdy in the world, but it doesn’t have to be.

Self-driving, tire-destroying time machine.

Things Mike Boyd can do (comma) in slow motion.


The myth of whiteness.

Mama mia let me go.

Deep fake face mods appropriately applied to celebrity impersonator.

“…Unless you’re flatfooted or a redhead; that’s bad luck on a boat.”


The secret of Abe Lincoln’s mallet of mystery revealed. (16 min.)

“Time and the elements have damaged their tired old frames, and plants now grow through their broken bodies.”

Rat kings, squirrel kings, and so on.

Non-human animals don’t really kill that many people, and if you run off the road and crash to avoid a deer, that’s not really the deer that killed you, is it.

The advent of reiki massage.

I like the thrilled one third from the left, near the door. And the mischievous one at bottom, straight down from the tree. And the one lowest-left with the one behind her and to /her/ left who wants to strangle her, or perhaps caress her, who can barely control her hands; she’s broken her present, nervously twisting the tissue and yet her face is blank. That’s passion. What happened later that night? Something wonderful or awful, that’s for sure. And I notice that none of the others in the photograph, women or men, interest me at all.

And there, this. The one with the copper on the side and the recessed headlights. That’s what I’m talking about.


A Bohemian lullaby.

     “When any worthwhile thing is done in the world, it’s usually done by somebody weird.” -John Sandford

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2019-12-20) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back a couple of years. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Holly Tannen, ladies and gentlemen, first 40 minutes of the show. Eleanor Cooney didn’t make it; she says next week for sure. Things pretty much ran to plan otherwise, unusually to plan, you might think, if you were of a suspicious nature or had one, nature /or/ plan. Also Jerry gave me a recording to play of Bob Boler reciting holiday Dylan Thomas in that lower-register pipe organ voice he had. I’ll never forget his part in MTC’s /Curse of the Starving Class/ where his character, a generally deadbeat absent father, drunkenly corrects the inflection of his little girl’s angry swear delivery. He could /sing/ too, that guy.

Well, I’m off to see Gloriana Opera Company‘s /Snow Queen/ now. This is the last weekend for it. Eagles Hall, corner of Alder and Corry, Fort Bragg (CA), 7:30 tonight, 3pm Sunday and that’s it, so now’s your chance.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the Solstihannukwanzissimus MOTA show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

A clever way of smoothing delivery of erratic power.

I blame this on homeschooling.


A little perspective.

Belly dancing Xmas carols.

The chimney did not work, so they took it apart to see what the problem was. Birds. It was birds being birds.

The Venezuelan jungle parrot. (via b3ta)

Capitalism, pal.

Mister Puppet.

Ze Frank’s latest.

Stop doing that, René Auberjonois. You are dead. (via Everlasting Blort)

The song that no-one likes. “Thiiiiis soooong bloooows!”

The chemical reaction of orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream.

Chicken vortex.

They sound like they’re having a good time but they don’t look like they’re having a good time. They’re pretty good at it, but they look like they’re all, /Okay, whatever, we’ll do it, look, we’re doing it, mom./

“It’s Christmas once again but you’re fucking one of my friends.”

Defendant tries to escape courtroom. (via b3ta)

The secret.

The other secret.

Shhh! Secret Sam. Secret Sam.

Sure she doesn’t.

The world is different from the way it used to be.

Brown rodent demonstrates white privilege.

Two mice fighting in the subway.

These are the people who are saying.

Watch this all the way through. And slow the fuck down.

Hamlet unfollowed you. (via Everlasting Blort)

Two-thirds of a full Janko, the smarter keyboard than never caught on, thanks to corrupt Big Piano.

Traditional Xmas.

Kung fu dang nuns, bitch. Don’t piss them off, they’ll /fan/ your ass. Or chop, kick, stick, bike, shovel and/or sword it. Or just rescue it or pray for it, you never know with them. “The purpose of training these nuns to fight all comes back to the concept of peace and equality.” Okay, sure, why not.

The entire New Testament of the bible screamed at you in an Asian accent in nine hours and seventeen minutes. (via b3ta)

Over men and horses, hoops and garters, lastly through a hula hoop of real fire.

Learn about SmartPipe and what it can do for you, the user. It’s new, it’s /Smart Pipe/.

2019 illusion of the year. Also finger creatures.

It seems funny, but this is the way /everything/ works. Banks, Facebook, insurance, church, everything.

“…Or is /this/ what you want for our future: a barren wasteland of filth and despair, humanity enslaved by a new master race, massive /pig/ people? No.”

Media coverage. What it looks like from a slightly different angle. Look at all those guard-thugs everywhere. There are more of them than the adoring crowd for whoever that guy is.

Another view, from yet another angle, of behind the scenes of how /everything/ really works.


Pish tosh, fish mush.

     “Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be cured against one’s will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals.” -C.S. Lewis

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2019-12-13) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back a couple of years. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Last week I saw this cartoon and I thought, it’s a lot like KZYX, except better for the workers in the cartoon because at KZYX the airpeople aren’t even being paid anything at all but a pat on the head, while the handful of people in the KZYX office are snarfling $300,000 a year out of the station into their own personal gloveboxes. And anyone who speaks critically of this, or of any other part of the operation of the NPR-colonized station, is kicked off the air and banned for life from doing a show there, because you can’t use the public airwaves if you won’t drink the cult’s kool-aid. They spill out hundreds of thousands of dollars a year of tax-derived Corporation for Public Broadcasting grant money for themselves and for all the canned crap from a thousand miles away; what are /local/ airpeople, chopped liver?

Planes, trains and automobiles. Modern vehicles don’t really do it for me the way these do, and I don’t think it’s just me.

Kiss the frog.

If Hogwarts were an inner-city school.

You haven’t seen /Frozen/ until you’ve seen it in the original Klingon.

Useful charts.

The creativity delusion.

Jesus Christ, the game.

Reindeer boobs. I vote yes. Except the raindeer man-boobs, which are creepy, and I know that makes me some kind of bigot, but so what.

Well, see, now, /there’s/ your problem. The drug for that is pretty pricey, but we can drill a hole and get some ice in there and get you out the door. Take a minute to decide.,w_1120/g_south,l_text:style_gothic2:%C2%A9%20ScienceRF,o_20,y_10/g_center,l_watermark4,o_25,y_50/v1506123438/o0mdzhd0mth1phai7eio.jpg

Carved out of a rock.

It’s all about the lightsabers.

Star Wars teaser sweetly Sweded.

Czech kids posing like medieval illustrations. (via WeirdUniverse)

Metal music.

How we get trees.

Bye-bye backache. (via Everlasting Blort)
“Makes the Perfect Christmas Gift!”: The Television Ads of Ronco

Shake that cola drag.

The space wall.

The BBC sound effect library.

Boris Johnson is a lying shit. (via b3ta)

“You know what’s wrong with today’s society? I’ll tell ya what’s wrong. Kids don’t drink out of the skulls of their enemies anymore, that’s what’s wrong.” (via b3ta)


Captain America bird. “I can do this all day.”

“Welcome to the pahty, pal.” Die Hard on ice.

Action Man Battlefield Casualties. PTSD Action Man.

I like the animation style. It’s by Natalia Ryss.

Roulette-wheel-emotion cat. Or rather binary emotion cat.

Sid Millward & The Nitwits.

The annual Waga-Attari border retreat ceremony. The flourish at the end: the straightening of the cap and the twirling of the mustache.

Juanita and I saw this guy at the Sonoma County Fair a couple of years ago. A sea of empty seats. Bad time of day, late in the run of the fair, audience of about six people. He still brought the magic and gave it his all. A total professional.

Creepy dolls. (via Everlasting Blort)

Jonathan Coulton’s Creepy Doll. That always follows you.

Xenomorph ASMR. “Hey. Hi. It’s me, ASMR Miranda… And my new roommate Whisper Billy.”

Cats going /What the what!/

All fashionable (or not) self mutilation looks like this to me. At least if it’s just makeup you can scrub it off. Though if you’re wearing the makeup to cover abuse bruises so the piece of shit who did it to you can get away with it, how is /that/ right? Anyway, don’t do anything like this; it’s crazy and makes me flinch.

Down the rabbit hole.

Ode to a crystal set. (via


“Some of you have written in suggesting that I’m a wack job.” (via Everlasting Blort)

Endless jingling. Reload for fresh Dada cutup Xmas jingle composition. (via Everlasting Blort)

“Is it a squid? Is it a worm? It’s a worm.” Though the average depth of Earth’s oceans is only 12,000 feet. That’s just the top part of this.


A little some o’ that Wasatch orthodontia.

     “Stop, drop and roll was always such a big deal as a kid. I really thought I’d be on fire more than this as an adult.” -Steven Wright

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2019-12-06) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back a couple of years. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

Al speaks on youthful motor adventures, the drive-in, the dog races. There’s the cat drama tale, where everyone involved is the good guy and the other one is the bad guy, which is standard for drama. Kay plays trombone through the phone. Various poems and arts and crafts, science and political and health info. Whimsy and tragedy, cake decorating tips and heads on spikes, NASA dolphin LSD trials, the latest in cutting-edge sex robot news… It’s not just a mixed bag, it’s a bunch of mixed bags in a blender, the effect I’m always shooting for. Oh, and at six hours and fifty minutes in, the one-hour recording of Gina O’Feral, Steve Worthen and Mark Friedrich in Mervin Gilbert’s and Mendocino Theater Company’s reading series production of /The African Queen/ from last Wednesday, so.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Dancing insects.

About the rotoscope process.


Moving pictures.

Airbag for bicyclists and pedestrians and skateboarders.

And this:

The thermostat one.

Where the last names are.

Combatting the anti-vaccine echo chamber.


“You just wanta make sure you don’t make it all lumpy.” I’m not sure there wouldn’t be niche interest for that, though. People get jewels set into their teeth, and tattoos on their face and neck and ears, and little metal clothespins that stick sideways through their tongue, and they can get a job in the post office or even in a /bank/ now, much less a bail bond agency or an adult toy store. I think a penis plastic surgeon is limiting his market by ruling out uneven lumps and corkscrew shapes and so on. And genetically engineered bacteria that would make your dick light up like a Christmas ornament, or memory-wire mesh implants that would make it flip left and right like a Billy Bass in response to stock price information on the Fox News chyron or a Dolly Parton song or a FitBit feedback loop. The sky’s the limit for technological self-mutilation in this weird crappy timeline we’re stuck in anyway since that idiot went back and stepped on the butterfly in the Cretaceous. Stay on the path, they said. There was even a sign. But it is what it is. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. /Or can you?/ Sure, with a syringe. Easy.

A little lead time.

Fun with fossil fuels.

Apocalypse Pooh. “[groan] …Still in Saigon… /shit/.”

Pachelbel’s canon on European train horns.

The granddaddy of teevee remote controls. Read the whole story.

The cars. (via Everlasting Blort)

“Make love, not bugs.” “For rectal use only.”

“31-year-old Luo Cuifen went to a hospital in China complaining of blood in her urine. X-rays showed that she had 26 needles embedded in her body, affecting her lungs, kidneys, brain, and other organs. Doctors believe the needles were inserted when Luo was an infant by grandparents who were disappointed that she was born a girl.”

Ian Danskin. Does this intelligent deconstruction of political reality make my butt look fat?

Three Shining Swords, a Star Wars kabuki play. (The real action starts a little after 13 minutes in.)

A time-lapse/montage or rather a serial catalog of uses of the toilet room in a place where people dress up nice to work.

Refuse to spread.

See everything. Say nothing.

The white pillow-shaped pill.

But why do only little /boys/ get a heart marble?

/All Star/ on melon ocarinas.

Cat ladders.

Pigeon bridges.

Planetary panoramas.

Bad Lip Reading project: Stranger Things.

As it was.

Two silly unpatriotic girls and the Ghost of Meat Rationing Present.

Rerun: Joanna Connor at a backyard barbeque.

Liquid sheep.\

Slovenian trampolinos.

Good news.

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)


Rerun: Emo Trump.



No man.

Flight of the Conchords Texan Odyssey. (44 min.)

Eat Drink Man Woman.

A visual history of light.

Push it out, push it out, pushin out the demon. (via b3ta)

The nightmare anno dominimus.

Harpo and Lucy.

Russia 2046. (via Everlasting Blort)

And Jesse Wiedel paintings, by year. (Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost sent me the link to this.)

Traish LaRue vs. El Santo! At the Palindrome on Thorgellen!

     “Does it have to be human? …Does it have to be fresh? …Where’m I s’posed ta GET it?” -Seymour Krelborn.

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2019-11-29) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to re-enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back a couple of years. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet, though the farther back in time you try to go, the less likely it is to work right, just like real life.

It was a circus last night. Hank Sims and Jenny came in. That’s /the/ Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, providing real, old-fashioned small-town journalism but on the web. Al Nunez (say NOON-yez) came and reluctantly accepted the money help everybody gave this week to get him over this rough patch, and he was persuaded to sit down and talk for a little while, and if you’ve been following his saga on the MCN listserv I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear it from his own mouth here. Kay Rudin called a couple of times to talk about the Big Band event coming to Lauren’s in Boonvile /next/ Saturday night, and I only hung up on her once. Alex Bosworth called from Arkansas, as promised, to give the skinny, the lowdown, the poop, etc., on Thorgellen, the ancient pagan festival of blood and fire in honor of Thor, which Memo of the Air celebrates every year and has done since 1997, including the Airing of Grievances and the solemn playing of William S. Burroughs’ /A Thanksgiving Prayer/, hands and knees and heads bowed down. Thomas showed up and explained the financial term /derivatives/ in a way even /I/ could understand. Blues legend Lucky Otis called from Los Angeles. And people who didn’t even want to be on the air kept coming in and going out. I didn’t really get to start reading the material I brought to read until way after midnight. I have work tonight, so I’m not going into any detail here but, let’s see… If you want to hear the part where Al Nunez is there, you can skip directly to about an hour and eight minutes in. Oh, and Thomas heard me say something about a hamburger, so, just like about three years ago, he came back later with a hand-cooked cheeseburger on toast, with bacon, lettuce, tomato and a thick slice of onion in it. Oh, my god. Perfect. There’s your Thorgellen feast, right there.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Rerun: Turkey dubstep.

Duck art.

Things people used to do before phones.

Speckled octopockle.

Open memory box.

Style. Some home design ideas for you. I have about five favorites in this collection. How many for you?

We regret the error.

Industrial park.

A queer ferry.

It’s hard for a trolleyman to hold still. The trolley is the future, and future is always moving.

Hong Kong. Summary. Short video. Pretty much the whole story of what’s the big deal here.

“A Jew coup.” Ahem. The last line of this lunatic right-wing evangelical Christian preacher radio/teevee star’s delusional rant is the money shot for this sort of thing. Stay for it. It’s not that long. I wonder what happens when somebody, just on the street, tells him and his crazy cult friends that his Jesus Christ is a Jew. Or asks him to think of a single instance in all of history where what he’s paranoid about actually happened: the Jews getting in power and slaughtering and killing all the Christians.



William S. Burroughs, A Thanksgiving Prayer.

Comedic juggler.

Why do you suppose they call her popcorn girl?

Clock. (via Everlasting Blort). It’s wonderful, but I would prefer an equivalent ultimate value in plain milk chocolate and caramel.

Food timeline.

Dubstep on power tools.

‘Scuse me while I kiss this guy. Bow-bow-bow ba-da BWARR, ba-da BWARR.

Scenes from The Shining dubbed in Japanese. (via

Always remember.

If donkeys’ nostrils had eyeballs.

Watch the center of the gif (say jiff) for about 30 seconds, then look at the picture.

They called it the Danger Dance. You could cripple yourself. You could break your stupid foot completely off.


How we get nuts.

How we get chameleon puppies.

“/Sigh./ It’s like this.”

One day and one night in a place where they have winter.

Jaguar (say JAG-yoo-ahr) versus croc-thing.


Seal snot.

What all your problems look like from up there.

The path (or) Why not to put wet scrap metal in the furnace.

Boy gets dog.

O Fortuna, the real lyrics in English for a change.

Auroral meaning.

The page counts for you so you don’t get stuck and never get out.

6 kinetic characters.

A man with a really good videocamera in his hat, with great stereo sound, just wanders around Osaka for an hour in the middle of the night, and it seems like a really night place. Very different from the anime shows I’ve seen, where rocket-powered motorcyclists have sword fights and battle terrifying ghost bears from the other world. Nothing like that at all in real life. Use your good headphones.

Let this actual astronaut tell you what’s wrong with all your favorite space movies.

Magnificent model rockets.

The X-ray craze of 1896. I love the little dreamlike soft-focus electrical X-ray-booth trolley car.

Yes, the big question on everybody’s mind.

He gets to the new one (repeating bow and arrow) at about two minutes 30 seconds.

Capybaras. These things are about he size of a very big dog. Technically they’re rodents. Capybara fact: everyone loves them. It doesn’t matter what kind of animals you put in with a capybara they get along great.

Cardboard. Enjoy them while they’re here. These things don’t last. Water from the air gets in and makes everything soft and all we’ll have left is the pictures.

More than the sum of their parts.

Where your bullshit magic earth mother crystals come from: Mos Eisley, and you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy… No, wait, the scum and villainy part, yeah, but Tucson, on Earth. Not Mos Eisley on Tattooine.

About Cthulhu Ventures LLC. An investment opportunity.

Yggdrasil. Sounds like an ointment for lumbago, whatever that is, but it’s not. It’s the root and trunk and branch of everything there is. So… it’s an ointment? No. It’s… never mind, okay, it’s an ointment.

Everyone’s different inside, but surprisingly almost everyone shares the rotating glitter-fluid Jupiter marble effect.

And SquatMagic /will be/ your butt-transforming secret. The results are amazing, they say. Just /look/ at how fit these kids are, and it all comes from the magic of simply squatting in a rubber wrestling suit on this ingenious device. /Transformo posteriori!/ (via