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All will be revealed.


     “What? says Toby, I thought it was Gert Schwankfelder. He put down his fiddle and took a good look at me. Himmel! he says. I have hit the wrong boy. It is not the new boy. Why are you not the new boy? Why are you not Gert Schwankfelder!” -Rudyard Kipling

Here’s the recording* of last night’s (2018-02-09) KNYO and 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, from this other place, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option and isn’t surrounded by confusing flashing ads.

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

Flying around in the mountains, up and down. Down is faster. Several videos to choose from, latest on top.

The sound.

“Get up and go learn the truth or I will blow your goddamn head off!”

Illustrated TED talk about the world as Dollar Street. And they give a link to the website of the project the scientist talks about, so you can play with it yourself.

A fascinating montage of countless vacationers’ unwittingly perfectly duplicated vacations.

Why alien life would be our doom.

Assembled close flyover video of Europa, crinkly ice moon of Jupiter. There’s an ocean of liquid water under that ice.

A neural network turned a book of flowers into a book of dinosaurs.

Electromechanical counter.

Nina Paley put her panoply of gif goddesses to work in a new video. Moses scuttles away.

Mardi Gras 1899, when most of New Orleans was still above sea level, so things were different then.

Bad lip reading of that CTE-ball game last week.

Apparently, similar to the situation with flutes and electric guitars and trombones and violins (and wine and watches and steaks and cars and everything else), the real difference between a regular piano and one that costs a bloody fortune is that one of them costs a bloody fortune and the other one doesn’t. (My seven-dollar watch loses two seconds in three months. I set it when I replace the battery every year or two and that’s done.)

“Your ass! I’m not 99, I’m 78!” “No, Dad, you’re 99.” “Holy fuck! How’d I get so old so fast?” I love this.

It doesn’t matter where I look, everything reminds me of the wait to see /Isle of Dogs/.

Mars. Fullscreen it and turn the quality up.

A new clever compact Rube Goldberg marble run.

How we get marbles from recycled glass. Notice that there are people whose career is to watch rivers of marbles pour past in a slot and pluck out the ones that aren’t good enough. That might be okay work if there’s music playing, and if it’s not just one kind of music but all different kinds at random. Except there isn’t; there’s just the din of the hazardous machinery and the glass dust in your eyes and nose and mouth and ears and lungs, and the searing heat of the furnaces, day after day, night after night, until you want to scream, but that won’t help, they’ll just demote you to marble wheelbarrow duty. This is what’s really happening when people bitch about China stealing American jobs. Do you want your shiny marbles or don’t you. You do? Here’s your marbles, friend.

Meanwhile, in America, Natalie Portman swears like a motherfucking muleteer (MFM) and casually murders bystanders whose posture and demeanor displease her.

53 photographs of the London Underground, from the early days through the Blitz nights.

The giant stratified chromium motorized head of Franz Kafka. (Oh! Million-dollar idea: Rubik’s cubes that are the heads of animals and famous scientists and villains. Or an apple. But with propellers and a camera on them, and a bluetooth speaker. Made in China.)

This Russian housewife really belts out Clare Torry’s extended orgasmic wail from /The Great Gig in the Sky/.

Rerun: six months of rebuilding an engine in two minutes.

Just the Northern California genocide map. (Click on the circles on the map for details about that particular verse. Some of them give lots of information; some just name the event or place.)

Golden Ratio Star Wars crawl.

Fish, fish. Fishy fish-fish.

Piano. Chicken. Piano chicken.

Whole lotta love. “Wahhh. I hit my hand again!” This is the guy in all those Police Academy movies who made sound effects with his mouth.

Same guy does Jimi Hendrix.

How a pedal steel guitar works. What the pedals and knee levers do.

Yeah, you like you some key-tar. Yeah.

Skip ahead to about 2:25.

Lego roller-coaster ride.

I wonder if everyone is like me, in that every time the little cartoon person caroms off a hard thing I wince a little and feel like /oof!/ inside. And I really want him and the sled to get back together, the way they belong. Waiting for it.

“It’s not screaming. It’s just the air escaping.”

Every best visual effects winner.

The dances of the ages.

Rerun: Jackie Chan’s bowling with Bruce Lee story.

The problem of which one to trust: your real moustachioed manservant who loves and cares for you, or your full-drag smell-line-radiating imaginary friend, when you’ve known them both since childhood and they’ve both lied to you on several occasions that you know for a fact.

I am Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look upon my pants, ye mighty, and despair. (The Fark caption on the link mentioned pants. I think it’s more like a tooth.)!/fileImage/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/original_1180/qarlinngua.jpg

Seven years of the eleven-year solar cycle, to put things in perspective. That orange thing there is almost 900,000 miles across (1,300,000 planet Earths could fit inside of it), and it’s been there, doing what you see it doing, for four-and-a-half billion years. It’s one of 100,000,000,000+ stars in just one of 100,000,000,000+ galaxies in only one of a potentially infinite number of universes.

So, our sun, the heating system. And here’s how we move around and with that sun, regardless of where we work, or which teevee shouter appeals to our sense of authority or mob oneness, or which imaginary friend in the childish part of our brain we wish our wishes of, or whether we wash our hair every day or only once a week or never, or become a vegehoovian or a Republican or get an abortion or a headache or fall off our roller skates or learn to play the flute. This is the best concise description of our motion through the universe that I have ever seen, heard or read.

And Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawking and Arthur C. Clarke discuss life, the universe and everything. (42 min.) (Just kidding. It’s 52 min.)


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