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Eleventy kinds of broken.


     “That all Plays, Bear Baitings, Games, singing of Ballads, Buckler play, or such like Causes of Assemblies of People, be utterly prohibited, and the Parties offending severely punished by every Alderman in his Ward.” -Daniel Defoe

     “Introverts are rejoicing. My lifelong aversion to being touched and love of solitude are finally going to pay off! Suck it, touchies!” -Hal

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-03-27) 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 awhile. And you can go to Links To Recorded Audio, see above, and hear older shows yet.

A rare glitch in the automation, so KNYO wasn’t joined by KMEC until 9:30 when I discovered this and put it right; other than that, clear sailing. Alex Bosworth called from Arizona and is having an especially hard time, though, and I’m not very sensitive about other people’s real unhappiness even in the best of times, and when he hung up it sounded final, like the part in the movie where they hang up or stomp away from the park bench sounding pissed off and you don’t see them for five years and then when you do they say, why did you hang up on /them/?

Matt McGranaghan wrote:

>Marco, Alex’s call last night was a particularly moving Memo of the Air moment. I hope you and he are both OK, individually or better collectively. He seemed resolute but maybe he was seeking help. Hard to tell. To your credit, you handled it as well as anyone could.

>I had been meaning to write to say that I could not explain why I find/found your conversations with him so darned compelling. Almost naughty, like listening in on a party line, or to a therapy session in a room with too-thin walls. Maybe it was the open expression of opinions, some small bit of good-natured jousting. Maybe the hearing takes and experiences that are a bit wide of my own. Still don’t know. May never figure it out.

>It might make your program planning easier but I did look forward to that segment, and could tell that you did too. I guess.

>Hang-in. Lay low. Wash your hands. –Matt

I wrote back:

>Matt, I don’t know. If it’s a new person, or like a former specialty prostitute who wrote four books about putting herself through grad school on the equipment God gave her, I’m gonna want to hear whatever they have going on even twice or three times through but that’s enough, please. But if it’s somebody who calls all the time to push an hour-and-a-half of my reading material off the table into the trash, and /they know that’s what they’re doing/, I’m sorry, but I want them to read their story and say Wash your hands (you’re right, that’s a funny polite exit now) and hang up. Even if or rather especially if I like them, and even if they have, as Alex does, a shit-ton of health problems and are deserving of extra love and care.

>There are things going on in the background for everyone all the time. I expected other callers for last night and they both flaked, including the one that said she’d call what turned out to be when Alex called, and I thought maybe if Alex and I only talked for five or ten minutes the other person would try again if it was busy. That was why I said at start that I’d like to keep it to ten minutes. Alex thrives on company and is miserable in private, and I’m the other way around. My experience with conversation in real life is, unconstrained I talk until I say something cryptic or weird that nobody but Juanita would understand, try to pull up (“Pull up, Rogue Six, pull up!”) and just make it worse, and then internally agonize about it for the rest of my life; so I should quit while I’m ahead, but I always hope the other person will say, “Oh, my, look at the time,” and they take responsibility for leaving each other wanting more, to look forward to next time. /They/ do that; that’s what I want.

>Meanwhile the world’s in the same worse sucky hole than ever anyway in this bad science-fiction timeline, billionaires’ world wars ruining everything for everybody so they can stay billionaires, and cynical fake democracy, and plague, and devastation; disasters should take turns and not be comically wedged in the door together like this all at the same time. I’m gonna heat my tea back up and work on my web thing. Thanks for writing. Wash your hands. –Marco

IN OTHER NEWS: Confidential to the small but significant number of people who’ve been writing me privately for years and telling me in the grocery store (or even in the radio station when the mic is off but they won’t sit at a mic and do it for real) to cut off Alex (or anyone) for whatever reason of theirs, every one of whom has also told me never to say their name on the radio, because they want to kvetch in paranoid privacy, which I hate, um, I hate that, as well as the smug whispering campaigns against writers they have a personal history and issues with or who they just don’t understand so it makes them feel like they’re being made fun of so they’re pissy about it, and so on: If you want to participate, participate. If you want to snipe, snipe in public from now on with your name on it; be a man, or a woman, whichever is better. If you want to sabotage other people’s projects, go ahead, but stand up where everyone can get a clear throw at you with /their/ cream pie while you’re doing it. Okay, now that I have this all straight in my mind I know what to say next time, but it’ll probably come out a lot simpler, more like /Fuck you, clown!/ You know all those old grumpy people who ever just appeared, swore bitterly at you, and you were like, What was /that/ about? It’s all beginning to make sense. It’s about shorthand, minimalism, zen.

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

Christine speaking Shetlandic. I’ll be in my bunk.

The adorable bee hummingbird, the smallest of birds, barely bigger than a bee. Only as big as a big bee. (via NagOnTheLake)


For the love of God, Montressor. (41 min.)

Rediscovering Medieval music.

Reinventing music with stuff you find just lying around the house. The flapping rewinding tape one is my favorite.

“It’s okay. You can look at my butt.” (A lesson of social distancing.)

Queen of the rodeo. (via NagOnTheLake)

Ghost Story Club. (via

Lily Hevesh’s latest.

Joseph’s latest.

Rerun: The /sound/ of this. Use the good headphones.

Collection of lovely videos about work in rural China. (via NagOnTheLake)

“God dammit, you guys. Fine, how can I help.”

Shelter in place.

Read this whole thing, but if you just can’t force yourself to, then skip to the end graphics and the conclusion, which is that a hard quarantine is less effective than hard distancing. The animated demos about halfway down the article show why.

Stream the animal kingdom.

How we get mermaids. “The qualifications are beauty of face and figure, the ability to take direction and face long hours of strenuous physical discipline.”

Stills of the mermaids.

Say it ain’t so, Joe…

[Update] …But apparently they removed that like five minutes after I picked up the link. Here’s another article about the latest accusations against Joe Biden. I don’t know, except– even without considering this case, to me either Elizabeth Warren or Bernie Sanders would make a far better president than either Joe Biden or Fat Donny Two Scoops, and of all of them Warren has another twenty good sharp years in her. Maybe there won’t even be an election. Maybe those of us left alive will all be under drone-enforced martial law by election time in a Black Mirror scenario of horror, hunger and oppression and, on top of it, the worst fire season ever because of climate disruption and we’ll be using wheelbarrowsful of money for toilet paper, and a handful of evil fucks in charge will /still/ somehow be profiting from bombing the Middle East and Africa and wrecking and re-wrecking Central and South America just to feel like they’re in charge of the Raft of the Medusa for another fifteen minutes. Ahem.

I fratelli Cuomo.

“We gotta get outta here. Steve’s got warrants.” “I got warrants, man.”

I love this.

And this. “But the Lord told Shavulva, don’t worry.”

Sir Patrick Stewart is reciting soothing Shakespeare sonnets on Twitter.

The little blonde one, Diane, is less squinty and more focused on the camera’s nose than the others, but there are those worrying hickeys under her arm. That’s probably why she didn’t win, and next year she’ll be too old. That was her one chance to be National Doughnut Queen. Thanks a /lot/, Bobby.

The classic liberal/conservative analogy.

The sexy cars again.

Rerun: Mystery of the leaping fish. (Filmed in 1916, 30 min.)


How to play a bunch of random-sounding notes in a nonetheless precise pattern like a professional of that.

Somebody on the MCN Announce listserv wrote about going out to several stores to get essential supplies, which turned out to be vodka and trash bags and a third thing, I forget what, but I thought, /Essential supplies?/ It reminded me of this:

Tilt-shift Azerbaijan.


Sono il sindaco e sono stupito dall’ignoranza di voi gente.

But then it’s worse. Somebody could step there and break his tibia. Or a horse could.

Relatively, yes, they were.

A virtual giant orchestra/choir of music students.

Something sphinx around here. It looks like it’s crocheted of bubblegum rolled into snakes. Here’s the neat thing about all cats: they’re 100 degrees Fahrenheit inside their fur coat, and a sphinx cat doesn’t have that coat. So it’s hot to the touch. And it smells like a cinnamon bun because of a special genetic chemical in the folds of its flesh, the way the place between a puppy’s toes smells like salted popcorn.

About Lois Weber. Who’s Lois Weber? Exactly.

Strange sarcophagi. (via NagOnTheLake)

And archimaps. (via NagOnTheLake)

Oh, my, look at the time, wash your hands, it couldn’t hoyt, hummena-hummena, etc.

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