And a happy Hiroshimeve to you too.
“I remember my old schoolmaster, who was a prodigious great scholar, used often to say, ‘Polly matete cry town is my daskalon.’ The English of which, he told us, was that a child may sometimes teach his grandmother to suck eggs.” –Henry Fielding
Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-05) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and dive in and splash everywhere and toss it up and let it fall and hit you on the head.
And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.
An inspiring article about astronautics and space, with big high-rez photographs, and charts and videos, and a first person account.
Congrats, Collatz. Further trolley-problem hijinks.
The illusion of truth.
Where all that Olympic money goes. (Not to the athletes.) (Which is a lot like the way they do it at KZYX– a handful of people in the office get /all/ the money and the local airpeople get none at all. Does that seem right to you?)
Proof Bernie Sanders actually won the Democratic primary. (15 min.)
“My advisers tell me that these sepiatone photographs of my parents attest to my human origin.” Actually, this is an ad for Dissolve, a stock footage company, from whose stock the composition was assembled.
The impostor syndrome.
On the other hand.
“So that’s it for me, then?” “Sadly, yes, as I am talking to Max, now.”
A new kind of robot that generates its own motion.
It’s hard to hit the sun.
Star size comparison 2.
Who wore it best?
Look, up in the sky, it’s a bird on a bicycle.
Where should we look for aliens, then?
Bottle Boys’ latest innovation.
In and out in three minutes.
This room, that room, or gone.
You remember the right-wing lunatics of Fox so-called News all bitching about how Michelle Obama sullied the White House by being the kind of no-class Muslim bimbo who would wear an armless gown for a photo shoot? Hmm.
Brains. “We have a very narrow window between when the person passes away and the time we need to be done processing the brain.”
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City.
For the 400th and 300th times, respectively, I recommend you see these films.
Both of us.
Yeah, that’s good. Stand right there.
A judge with a whole person inside.
How voting works.
“She sounds like the product of two car alarms mating.” “She has the warmth of a tin toilet seat.” “Fold them.”
Zippy virus makes inroads.
How to make a bluidy fortune in artisanal confetti and keep it all from the tax man. A big part it, it turns out, is that there’s no place with flaccider taxation laws than Luxembourg.
Nostalgia for the stupid 1980s.
Nostalgia for the stupid 1880s.
The rewards of teaching.
John Cage’s composition /Four minutes, thirty-three seconds/ covered by death-metal band Dead Territory. More cowbell.
“I did not have relations with that man.”
Mr. Creosote sketch from Monty Python /The Meaning of Life/.
A source of unlimited power.
“Oh, sod the abbatoir. I’d love to be a mason. If I were a mason, I’d sit in the back and be quiet and not get in anyone’s way.”
Tabloid shocker: Worst tabloid ever turns out to be better than the best tabloid ever. Also, click to see the parody.
It’ll all end in flames. And a celebratory dance. And a howler monkey hoot of triumphant rage-triumph.
And Conway’s Game of Life in 3D. (Click and drag to change view angle.)