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Landmine coffee.


    “If you glue a dead wasp to the palm of your hand you can smack your boss on the back of the head as hard as you want and act like you saved him.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2018-10-05) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to enjoy. (Left-click for instant-play. Right-click to download.) And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with the latest show and also other ones going back about a couple of years. And you can always go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and peep around in stacks of even earlier work.

Dynamic Zachary Friedley came to talk about his mission to provide prosthetics for landmine survivors, and of course I interrupted him mercilessly like an idiot. I don’t know why I do that, but at least he’ll be prepared for future interviews on the international stage where they do it right, and he promised to call in reports from India, so there’ll be plenty of other chances. Thanksgiving Coffee Company is even coming out with Landmine Coffee to support Zachary in his project.

Kay Rudin and I chatted about various shared and unshared history. You’ll especially like her story about the 1979-era Donald Strauss (R.I.P.) theatrically and stark-nakedly distracting the entire Willits police force while Kay and the rest of the Gloriana Pirates of Penzance cast and crew got away clean in the night. Thomas walked in and brought me the very dictionary definition of a /superior/ hamburger, handmade with his own startlingly long piano-playing hands. Also he spontaneously developed a really entertaining, insightful and bravely revealing rant about the emotional hierarchy and pecking order in and of bars. Alex called to talk about David Lynch using a booth in Bob’s Big Boy for an office, and how he met him once and did his David Lynch impression and David Lynch didn’t bat an eye. And there’s a great deal of other valuable information on various subjects in a rather more coherent, if slightly nervous-sounding, order than usual.

Last part of the show: the entire live recording of Maureen Martin’s and Bronwyn Falcona’s brand-new play about phone sex, from the test reading at Helen Schoeni Theater. It’s the next day now and I’m still a little gaziggled. It takes a little longer every time to recover from accomplishing the show. I guess now that I’ll be 60 in a few weeks I’m not 25 anymore. They’d really better schedule Memo of the Air on KZYX before I need a walker to get around. I’ve been waiting patiently exactly 344 fricking weeks for that, and though it annoys everyone when people say just saying: just saying. Get on the stick, Alice. What else have you got to do? What is more important, that’s been more important for coming up on seven years?

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

“I cried because I had no shoes.”


My bottle opener rides a roller coaster.

The Boswell Twins.

EyeEm photography awards.


Like a tiger, a CAT in HEAT, /she took life in her teeth/ and GORGED herself! She ran the FULL GAMUT from stable boy to nobleman in a WEIRD WORLD of uninhibited pleasure, of PSYCHEDELIC DRUGS! (The part where she sticks her tongue in the cat’s mouth, though, is too much even for me. Yuck.)

“Why such melodrama over such mundane diarrhea?”

Scream into a pillow.

Forced perspective.

A short film about teleportation.

Trillions. And scroll down.

The best pumpkins in the world.

The old ways.


The Kavanaugh thing. You haven’t been paying attention because it’s a shitshow, and later on when some small person asks you about it you’ll be glad you watched John, here, explain it all in just half an hour, so you can answer.

A giant wine silo throwing up like a freshman so you you don’t have to.

New glasses that let you see everything /but/ any video anywhere, just about.

Sans cans.

A graph of hits on Khan with different numbers of the letter A in it.

Sprinklers drive an emu ecstatic so it rips around like a dog doing zoomies. Who knew?

Riding the booster. With sound.


Okay, now, that’s sad. The poor dolphin. Before, it was in lifetime solitary confinement, isolated from its kind, with a buncha monkeys around, and now even the monkeys are gone.

Origine di una perversione!

Q: What’s brown and sticky. A: A stick.

Buncha boomwhackin’ Harvard kids.

Finally, a fun, interactive periodic table of the elements.

Art house.

The story of the wave. He really liked that shape.

Old Chinese public health posters.

And here’s Donald Trump slouching up the stairs into the four-billion-dollar Air Force One with a flapping tail of toilet paper stuck to his shoe. You’d think he could afford to pay somebody to notice things like that and lick it off for him. I’m not really sure why, but this makes me think of Baron Harkonnen, and he named his son Baron, so.


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