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It’s slide-turn-/kick/, slide-turn-/kick/, step, twist, /present/, and jump. Got it? Try again.


      “See, I’ve fought you guys enough. You basically aren’t level bosses anymore.” –Doctor McNinja

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2015-12-18) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep or just play with one click.

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

The 2015 Voight-Kampff empathy test.

A day in the life of Bonnie Consolo.

How did they Nazi this coming?

10 British ads.

A fascinating tour of the ISS. Russian module, bathrooms, Medusa hair, everything.

Worlds collide.

Well, it’s about time. That little woman has been stymied far too long by the obstacle of tedious and hazardous whittling. “NOW a Woman CAN Sharpen a Pencil.”

Skip ahead to about 3:20– they show the launch in slow motion from nearby, then from the point of view of the side of the rocket. Then they fill it up with water and compressed air again, and again –a little more air each time– and eventually it goes almost a third of a mile high. The rocket is about ten feet tall and as big around as a stripper pole. The reaction mass is tap water.

Here, again, even later and using even higher pressure. Better flight video.


The added iron in cereal is actual tiny shards of iron.

Why it flops.

Speaking of magnets, I got sucked into cop-fail compilation videos. Here’s just one.

The man at the far right, walking away from the police, is shot and knocked down, then shot and shot and shot some more as he dies trying to crawl away. (The dozens of gunshots are the snapping, crackling sounds, attenuated by the phone’s recording process.)

Don’t kill other people; that goes without saying. But also don’t kill yourself– you’ll regret it.

A short science-fiction film with a nice twist to it.

Bad Lip Reading project: Original Star Wars.

Bad Lip Reading project: Walking Dead. “Da-bibbida-bibbidum.”

A beluga whale. Buh-loooooo-ga.

A bulbous bouffant.

Also not mentioned: the choking chemical smell of this hair fad, and how flammable it was. Scroll down.

The 5-hour Darth Vader holiday video yule log. Comments: “Hearth Vader.” “So nobody thought to remove the fireproof suit before the cremation? Or is that the point– suit becomes urn.”

O Fortuna. Which weirdly has become a holiday staple. Weirdly because the lyrics*.

So they’re all lying, but they’re not all lying all the time. Only the Republican candidates and their support circuitry are lying all the time.

I like the one about the clownfish.

The Mystery of the Leaping Fish.

“Where shall we fly next, Bobby?” “Let’s fly over there. And then just– fly around.”

Scott Adams’ transcribed conversation inserted at random into his Dilbert cartoons.

Complete instructions to assemble your new Jeep.

Why not to waste money on vitamin supplements.

Ratatat. Drugs.

Test your rhythm. (Tap along with the beat, and keep going after it fades out. Read your score. Done.)

“I wish I’d died instead of Mom.” (I’ve never seen that show, but it’s been explained to me that the boy’s name is Karl. His father, played by an English actor, has a thick (American) Southern accent, hence, “Coral.”)

Dickens’ Fruit Corners.

Things we got stuck in our bodies this year.

An exercise in editing.

Another kind of editing.

An exercise in pedaling.

Good to know. This man has made a lot of videos about fixing guitars.

“Check it out. It’s a frickin’ noodle. Your argument is invalid. Get a job.”

Some perspective on the Y-axis.

Indigo child.

Old book illustrations.

The Skate-stine chapel.

The HXDF. Read the article, then click on the image, then click through the slideshow.

Another fun musical toy.

Also, Bjork, in her first weird performance-art/spoken-word/musical piece, when she was a little girl, in 1976.

And her first recorded song, from earlier the same year.

*O Fortuna in English:

O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable, ever waxing and waning; hateful life first oppresses and then soothes as fancy takes it; poverty and power it melts them like ice.

Fate – monstrous and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled you plague me too; now through the game I bring my bare back to your villainy.

Fate is against me in health and virtue, driven on and weighted down, always enslaved. So at this hour without delay pluck the vibrating strings; since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me.


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