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Oh, Magoo, you’ve done it again!


     “When a grid’s misaligned with another behind, that’s a moire/ When the spacing is tight and the difference is slight, that’s a moire.” -Randall Patrick Munroe

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2017-04-07) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option and isn’t surrounded by confusing flashing ads. (Though sometimes something goes wrong and you can’t get the latest one from there until Hank slaps some sense into the machinery. If it’s not just working, try again later.)

Just as I was starting the show John Redding came in and played a few songs on his guitar. He had an appealingly Mister-Rogers-like manner. I hope he visits again. Keeter Stuart showed up and played a few songs of his and others, sounding, I thought, very like Greg Brown in both guitar style and voice, and that was it for walk-ins. After that you can expect the usual odd items and louder, less even flow of when I’m doing the show from next to the bar and not from Juanita’s apartment where I have to not wake up the neighbors. When I read parts 3-6 of Ezekiel Krahlin’s story about a time-traveler in a Motel 6 going back to relatively ancient Jerusalem to investigate the myth of Jesus I blew the crucial last line, and here’s how that happened:

Ezekiel sent email to the MCN announce and discussion listservs, and at deadline time I was speed-checking (blinking at) all my all-week email one last time as I snatched up the last of the text for the file to print to take to the show, and there was email with /something vaguely like what I remembered from Ezekiel’s story/, which was already printed because I had it left over from last week, already in the milk crate in the car, and for some reason I mistook this email for a correction request. It wasn’t even addressed to me, but to someone else on the listserv, but I saw it, misread it and misinterpreted it and at like 2:30am when I got to that part I was a little proud of remembering and just changed the line on the fly. Changed the word /lilies/ to /dildos/. The last word of the story. When I got home at 5 or 6 I checked my email before I went to bed and there was Zeke’s surprisingly gentle WTF? Jesus, sorry, Zeke. Wow. Oh, well.

That will go down in my personal things-to-ever-after-wince-at ledger right next to the time I had just been reading a funny story about how you should never ask a woman if she’s pregnant because 1. it’s none of your business and 2. she might be just fat, which is equally none of your business, not to mention: if you (the world) think she’s fat enough to be pregnant, why say it and make it worse?, and I was talking with a woman who was not fat –statuesque, rather, much bigger than Juanita, my standard for women, but well-enough-proportioned– but something in conversation reminded me of the article and that kind of funny foot-in-mouth moment and I said, “…Like, what are you, pregnant?” (referring to the article that, who knows why, my brain just assumed everyone else had read) and everybody at the table /froze/, and she glared at me, and inside I was like, /Marco! What, why, no, arghh! Go back!/ But you can’t go back, can you.

Then there was the time in the mid-1990s I was delivering the pulp version of Memo in Ukiah and went to put a couple in the library and went in the back to talk to Pat Hunt, who ran Redwood Free Net and so I knew he worked for the library, and his office was plastered with pictures of singer Holly Near in all stages of her career and age and size and so on, and I was amusedly creeped out by the stalker-ness of it all, and I said, “You must be a big fan of Holly Near.” He said, “I love her.” I said, “Uh-huh. Does Holly Near know of your feelings on the subject?” “Yes. She’s my /wife/.” It interested me to be in the same room, you know, in an office setting, with someone so fucked up, and so this weird conversation went on for a very long time before I finally grasped that /he was really married to Holly Near/. I have a vast internal gallery of moments like that. I’ll take you on a tour sometime.

Oh! And at the end of the show, instead of an old-time radio drama, I played the recording I made Wednesday in Helen Schoeni Theater of Susan Maeder’s one-woman show, The Goosefoot Tango: A Love Story, about a 14th century French holy woman who had a goosefoot for a foot, and who invented cigarets, and who had a relationship with Jesus who would, when not away on business, teach her different dances and stay for breakfast, as they say. It was so late, though; I’ll make arrangements with Bob and play it much earlier in the evening one night this coming week on KNYO, and I’ll let you know before that, so you can listen. I’ve known Susan Maeder for thirty –almost forty years, and I had no idea what a great writer she is. It’s a wonderful story. It’s like an hour long.

Besides all that, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for yez while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Man builds and learns to fly a real-life Iron Man flying suit.

Water from air.

The arrow of time.

“No, his ears were rather like a fat Japanese businessman.” “What about the mouth, then. Did he /have/ a mouth?” “No.” (You’re wondering where you know that actor from. He was York in /Hyperdrive/. And he was policeman in /Hugo/.)

A textbook case.

“I think there’s something cathartic about being quite thoroughly freaked out. To have the adrenaline rush with the knowledge that these things are safely confined to the book. You put it away. Not real.”

Terrorist attacks plotted in real time. (Left out, of course: domestic violence, or even just a small part of the world would look like popcorn popping.) (Look up /terrorism/. Domestic violence fits the description perfectly.)

Puddles the Clown sings Pinball Wizard to the tune of Folsom Prison Blues.

Where the pro pianist is looking.

“Nobody ever handed /me/ anything on a plate.”


“What kind of private school would let in these kind of guys? It started out as Hogwarts, now it’s Lord of the Flies.”

Slide mouse around to change gaze. Click to change character.

Soviet kid cartoon.

The story of American ingenuity.

Some more Vietnam photos.

Gravity-powered analog 3-D printer.

And, while you’re here, tell Congress to pass the Social Security Expansion Act.

And tell Congress to support Medicare for All.

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