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I saw the glyph *benevolent soup snakes* in gold.


   “If the zoo bans me for hollering at the animals I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.” -Dril or Wint

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2019-09-13) KNYO and KMEC Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to re-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 a couple of years. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

Right off the bat some nice heroic people came to talk about their Fort Bragg branch of the Street Medicine Project. (They do a free clinic on Wednesdays at the old Coast Hotel. And Kay Rudin brought her ever-bigger African-American dog Wally Ballou, demonstrated /earglasses/ and, amid a blizzard of my unfortunately characteristic interruptions, told twenty-five pounds of relatively unknown history about the original Woodstock art and music festival which she was, as she says, kidnapped into working at. Alex Bosworth called to bitch about his ex and reveal the secrets of his literary involvement in what’s called Spanking Erotica, the fastest growing kind; who knew? And several /interesting/, very wise-seeming young people wandered in to, among other things, read a story about historical blow-job poetry and explain Narcan. And I still managed to read most of what I brought to read, but by going so fast that it gave me a headache that you can hear. Busy night. Would go again.

Besides all that, here are links to further worthwhile educational and/or sensational items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Astro Boy’s poignant origin story.

I think the whole world, everyone, everywhere, all the time must look like this to crippled old people.

Smash art.

Astra No. 8 (1951).

Pop-up wooden castles. This odd and beautiful handheld art makes me think, for some murky reason, of the film MirrorMask which, when I looked it up just now to check whether is should be two words or one (answer: one), I found out cost less than $4 million to make. That astounding, compelling story, suitable for all ages. And you get crappy movie after violent crazy crappy movie anymore edited by people with the attention span of a gnat, apparently, and they all cost four /hundred/ million dollars, and how is that even possible? That’s like a whole space program. It costs more money to make a movie about going to outer space than it costs to build rockets and actually go to outer space. Which reminds me of an idea I had long ago that they’d do better to give a million dollars each to a hundred filmmakers than give a hundred-million dollars to one guy. You’d a get a few stinkers, sure, but some of those movies would be outstanding. See, this guy’s fine art costs, say, a few hundred or a few thousand dollars, where a bunch of paint just sloshed at random on a wrecked car door can go for a million dollars? To me, that’s nuts.

Paddy with a van full of monkeys.

Every noise. Scroll up and down. Scroll across. Click on the genres. Think how much work went into this. “The calibration is fuzzy, but in general down is more organic, up is more mechanical and electric; left is denser and more atmospheric, right is spikier and bouncier.”


Drone-POV flying videos are improved by flying the drones around roller-coasters. You will agree.

Yay, science! Comet.


Click on the face you think is a real person. Fun game until you keep losing.

Crime of the century.

Luca Stricagnoli’s latest.

Trailer for a documentary about Phil Tippett, creator of monsters.

Hercules annoys Zeus once too often with his need for adventure. This is very like the episode of /Stargate/ where Teal’c got his own apartment on Earth and couldn’t fit in because he stands out like a sore thumb. Later on, a couple of years later, after Vala’s joined the team, she doesn’t call him his name, she calls him Muscles, and of course.

50 years of Monty Python.

The first turn’s a doozer.

A campaign ad.


Jamal Khashoggi. A behind-the-scenes how-to. The murder was ordered by none other than Mohammad bin Salman, Prince of Saudi Arabia.

Magical vandalism.

Not a satire/parody. Really.

Also not.

The children of others.

The magnificent Dumbo octopockle.

“I’ve got one word for you, Benjamin: Plastics.”

Another cool Russian glass beach.

This is a real place in the real world.

Who does Sean Hannity masturbate to? I dunno, ask him; he’s not ashamed to say.

This is a a bit exaggerated but, the thing is, this is how people really are. They just don’t have the balls to stalk the person, nor the follow-through to develop the wasp idea. As Greg Brown said, I guess nobody’s lonely anymore.

Irene Diaz – I love you madly.

I guess you’re right.




Car art.

To be fair, this is what most people think of as regular makeup looks like to me anyway.

Or like this.

Or this.

“Fusilli, you ol’ sumvabitch! How’s it goin’?”

Inside the BMW motorcycle factory. I love those Germans. So meticulous.

Further faux shows. These people use stock footage to invent plausible teevee shows. It’s an ad for their stock footage company, but a pretty neat project all by itself. It’s like /Wheel of Fish/ in /UHF/.

The road to Elmo, proto-crypto Li’l Abner.

“Land me, brother! Land me now! Oh, Mummy! Oh, Father! Oh, grandchildren! No no no no no-no-no-no! Oh, I am a motherfucker to to have signed up for this! Brother, take 200 rupees more, but let me land! 500 rupees! Oh, no, I am dying! Land me now, brother!” Yes, in retrospect, colossally unwise.

And, speaking of which, never shoot at the lake, Sheik.



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