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Boobs of Mona Lisa.


     “Never q-tip drunk. There’s an old Chinese saying I saw in a movie: If you can still clean your ear with a toothpick, you’re not drunk. That’s terrifyingly bad advice. Up to that point I had thought the ancient Chinese were smarter than that. But nobody is smart when they’re drunk. Everybody who is drunk is a big stupid baby with car keys and a gun.”

Here’s the recording* of last night’s (2017-09-29) 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.

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

“Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes…” A hundred years of hurricane tracks in a couple of minutes. They’re just cute little jagged lines, seen this way. It’s interesting to think that each of those little lines represents a row of bloated cow corpses folded upside-down over a guardrail, or the carport of a gas station spinning like a frisbee over a golf course, or an apparently unharmed, unmoved telephone pole growing /through/ a ladder, between rungs, or a man swimming, pulling his wife and baby and dog riding in a refrigerator for a boat, down the middle of Main Street, or the backs of children and a thin tall man all in a schoolyard, everyone fascinated by the sky over there, just before the man whirls around and screams for the children to GET INTO THE SCHOOL! COME ON! KAITLYN, LEAVE THE GODDAMN BALL! GO GO GO!

Still aerial photos.

Aerial footage of Viet Nam. It makes it look like Heaven. Earth is Heaven. Imagine what someone who really suffered through the French and U.S. occupation and war there must think on seeing something like this. The music is /Becoming Human/ by Ryan Taubert.

The suffragette that knew jiu-jitsu.

Help Greg Leyh beat his own record for the world’s largest Tesla coil.


Theatrical code.

Carny code. (Scroll down.)

Something to remind us that public displays of patriotism might not be all they’re cracked up to be.

Why do our brains just accept film editing? That’s a good question, and here’s a good answer.

Another in the series of visual explanations I’m collecting that show how religion works.

And another.

And another. 1. It was on purpose, like when a cat trips. 2. It’s stuck. Can he get it unstuck? 3. Of course he can, he’s Jesus F. Christ.

Steam hammers. Let there be no doubt about them.

Why querty dominated.

I’m old enough to remember when people used the slang term /piano/ for this thing. I’ve had half a dozen typewriters. My favorite, the best to use, was a smallish gray-brown government-issue electric model whose keys were all on a hair-trigger and it looked like a toy 1940s Dodge hood and made a pleasant purring/thrumming sound, like it was saying mmm-hm? mmm-hm? mmm-hm? mmm-hm? and also num-num-num-num-num-num-num-num at the same time. Carriage return was like a catapult with your fingers in your ears. They sure don’t make them like that any more.

Here’s why real pianos cost so much. This whole mechanism is duplicated and sits behind every one of 88 keys in just one box, and they all have to be made to last a hundred years with people sitting on it, and spilling their drinks into it and using it for an ashtray. Then there’s the iron harp, that has to hold against tons and tons of force, which is why pianos weigh enough to bend spacetime and make marbles roll in their direction. And somebody has to tune it the first time, and then tune it again every time you move it anywhere. Biff Rose had a tiny 66-key apartment piano that he used to play rolling around in the back of Margie Crowningshield’s stepvan. I wish we could get something like that for KNYO. Max the Piano Player has condemned the one we have. “It’s a nice piece of furniture,” he said. “It’s not a piano.” It was, though, back in the Flapper era.

Internet Pinball Database.

Control rooms of mid-20th-century Earth.

Typical of people. You find something amazing and the natural first thing it occurs to you to do is kill it so things can be normal again?

BASTA, SATAN! BASTA! (That means /enough, Satan, enough/ in Italian.)


Trailer for film about a blind card-trick magician.

It looks like the people getting on that one bridge there can see all the way to France.

For synesthesic fans of fonts. Very short.

Reverse-engineering the wiggly colony-creature blob.

Just beautiful. String bell harmonics. The kick-drum sound is his wrist striking the bridge.

How to write a Morrissey song.

How to beatbox Despacito.

How to find your Star Wars name.

The dust bowl.

Boobs of Mona Lisa. (Works on all levels: band name, Italian swear, roadside-diner chef slang, car suspension part, medical term, crayon color, rank, WordPress template…)

Victorian teenage posers. Poseurs. /Poseuses/.

Sports stars. Where are they now?

Another comparison of cheap and expensive instruments, this time electric guitars. There’s even less difference between the sound of them than basses. Also, remember the one where they compared violins from $50 through $500,000 and you couldn’t really hear the difference?

Never without permission.

What ages feel like.


And don’t forget to take the toast out of the toaster and close the blinds.

Trailer for Blue Planet 2.

Dancers with fingers.

Train trip through Tokyo. You’ve seen this trick done with vertical-line mirroring; this is horizonal-line mirroring. It’s peaceful and floaty.

Here’s something you don’t see every day: an Afghan hound underwater in slow motion.


That’ll be $4,000.

This is what’s going on in their head all the time. It only peeks out occasionally, and then we get to see.

The torture and murder of Julian of Cilicia. I’m informed by the Comtesse DeSpair that he was placed in a bag (check) with scorpions and snakes (check) and then thrown into to sea. I don’t really see any sea in the woodcut, but maybe it’s off to the right, past the, uh, amusement park, it looks like. Too bad he couldn’t do like in the mouse and the lion story and be all, /Be cool, snakes. Just bite the rope off my hands and I’ll get us all home and dry./ Snakes are like flies; they don’t listen. And don’t even get me started about scorpions, yeesh.

“Well, joke’s on her. We’ve all seen the Last Supper: big-ass table. This is the future. In the future, Mom, everyone’s gonna have one o’ these things.”

Assassin’s creed paper parkour.

Kindness brows. How to. And /bash the fash/ because true friends don’t let friends become fascists.

Commercial for the book /Liartown: the First 4 Years/.

What makes a jerk a jerk.


Soviet pools. Kind of a Wes Anderson color palette.

The week in fine lines.

The big ones.

And finally! The physics, the materials, the batteries, a real flying car!

…using technology from one of these things.

Dogs of space.

Universe. A 30-minute black-and-white film made in 1960 that’s still the best introduction to love of astronomy there is.



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