Taylor Swift’s ham sandwich.
“We have scratched the surface and it’s made a funny smell. It’s something to investigate.” –Jonathan Williams
Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-08) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and keep, and skip around in, and frolic and play like a child again, like in the Twilight Zone episode where the skeptical old man needs a great deal of persuading but finally follows his fellow old people through the magical portal into a land of happiness and straw hats and calliope music, and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.
Show by remote from Juanita’s house this time. There was one three-minute dropout in the broadcast, when Juanita got back from work at 10pm and her cell phone’s wi-fi needs began chopping up my connection to the KNYO transmitter, but after that, smooth sailing. The recording you get is made in the computer doing the streaming, the one I’m sitting at, wherever I’m doing the show from, so it’s seamless as usual.
Last month’s problem with my email dialup service in Albion turned out to be corrosion on the /input/ to the outside phone box. I fixed that. It might be corrosion causing the unreliability of the DSL (phone line) internet connection at Juanita’s, but the outside phone box there serves almost two dozen apartments; I don’t want to even open that without permission. I’ll just call Sonic and put them on it. As soon as I press send on this.
Meanwhile, in the world of people with /real/ problems, the Battle of the Somme, a hundred years ago, commemorated July 1, lasted months, so it’ll still be the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of the Somme through Thanksgiving. (Last week I forgot to mention that the Somme figures prominently in the Terry Gilliam film 12 Monkeys, as ingeniously realistic a description of the inner experience as any of his films. You’ve seen Brazil, and Time Bandits, and Baron Munchausen, and The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus –they’re all wonderful– but I recommend you see his Tideland.)
And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.
Tarantara. That’s Kevin Kline, and that’s Linda Ronstadt.
Lovely old batteries.
If you get tired of looking at a static map, skip ahead to 1000 AD. That’s when the popcorn really starts to pop.
They don’t exist anymore, and they were meant to be motels not homes, but they seem like attractive places to live.
7 billion people on the planet, expressed as floppy bunnies. The nightmare of the sacred miracle of birth.
Watch them make sex dolls. When I see something like this, I hear Professor T.J. Taroo (of ZBS Productions’ /Ruby: Galactic Gumshoe/) growling salaciously, “I like plastic. I like the way it feels. Plastic gets me /hot/.”
See, this is how religion and superstition work. Even when someone plainly shows you how you’re being tricked you still see something that isn’t there. Faith is just laziness, especially faith in what seems obvious.
Or you don’t see something that /is/ there, and suffer because of your faith in confident authority. Pay attention to the reaction of the young lady volunteer. What shocks her, beyond the physical injury, is what I call the /wonder of betrayal/. It’s a mixture of pain and bafflement and wishing to go back to the way it was before, when you didn’t know what you know now, and you still don’t know whether it was on purpose, because both /how could it have been on purpose?/ and /how could it not have been?/ And the man who did it to her is trying to help her, /or is he?/ because isn’t he still there, still doing it? But there’s still the appeal of trust in authority. It’s a loop. (Not the video, the mental trap.)
Or you hear something that is both there and not there. (By the way, this was Ronald Reagan’s profession, right out of the gate: Pretending on the radio to be calling live baseball games.)
Timing. One thumb up.
Karaoke Copa. “There was blood and a single gunshot, but just who shot who?” Fun. Try it.
“The myth of the loose-woman’s vagina is a myth.” Comparing your dry, stingy ham sandwich to Taylor Swift’s generous, juicy ham sandwich.
Before and after. Your taxes at work.
Alcohol. Is there anything it can’t do?
Big enough to see from orbit with the naked eye. Brimstone– that’s the old word for sulfur.
Where y’all come from?
[Word] = metal? or not metal?
3D-printed zoetropic Fibonacci sculptures.
“‘£350,000,000 we could plow into the NHS instead’? They /must/ have known that was complete bullshit!”
A little background –and foreground– for the above.
“Dammit, Camus! You ruin everything that’s good!”
“I am theenking gabout weef-ee, ba-keeng and speeder-mon.”
Think about Bill Murray this way.
Think about guns this way.
“Scotland voted to stay and plan on a second referendum, you tiny-fingered, Cheeto-faced, ferret-wearing shitgibbon.”
Never get in a pissing contest with an emaciated rich woman who has a hose.
Profanity corner. “The effect was so impressive.”
Photography without Photoshop.
Garfield without Garfield and other subversive Garfield spinoffs.
And Sir Patrick Stewart. That is all.