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Mr. Mischief Night.


     “Here’s what’s happening: Someone keeps going back in time to fix 2020 by changing something, but every time they do it just makes it worse.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-10-30) KNYO 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 little bit.

Besides all that, here are some links to worthwhile items that I set aside for you while gathering the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your immediate right:

This person is the pumpkin carver from now on. Everyone else can go sit down.

Costume contest.

Halloween is cancelled. Wear a mask anyway.

I like these creatures. (via EverlastingBlort)

Shivery creepy. Especially when she drinks right out of the milk. With her mouth.

Mr. Mischief Night.

Shanghai Disneyland Pirates of the Caribbean ride-through video. “Raise the fleet!” Somehow this all reminded me of the very last Star Wars movie. Hmm.

Speaking of which: /Wonderboy/, by Tenacious D.

Australian Aboriginal choir Spinifex Gum sings Tom Waits’ /Make It Rain/.

Tom Waits interview on Letterman in 2004, /then/ TomWaits’ /Make It Rain/.

A single-seat car –a rail-car– that gets the equivalent of 12,000 miles per gallon. All the experimental vehicles in this contest use less power to go forward than just the headlights of a regular car do to merely light up.

Rerun: Cyriak– dancing (and blossoming and fractally-multiplying) skeletons.

Dobby Sommer sent me this.


Kurzgesacht on geoengineering.

German band of session musicians covers /Dark Side of the Moon/ live.

Guitar all of chrome-plated heavy steel, including the neck and the tuning-peg head: even the frets are welded on! Making of, edited down to eight minutes. (When the electric welding starts at 1:36 it’s startlingly loud.)

And Ethel Smith on the tiny but mighty Hammond organ. You kids don’t know, but it wasn’t that long ago that every shopping center used to have an organ store full of organs of all sizes for sale, and there’d be someone like this woman, or a man in church clothes (suit and tie), playing just like this on the organ in the entryway, to draw people in. Pizza places had an organ and somebody to play it; some of them had a kind of clockwork or electrical or vacuum-operated mechanism to play it, to pull the keys down while you watched, or while you sat at it and pretended to be the one playing it. Churches, of course. I don’t remember banks having one, but that would’ve been a great idea, and still would be, if people still went in banks. Mark Scaramella of the Anderson Valley Advertiser worked his way through college playing an organ for intermissions in a giant movie theater, on a platform that would rise up on a hydraulic lift out of the stage in front of the curtains that would shut over the screen and then go back down when the curtains pulled aside and the movie started again. People had an organ in their house, in the living room or basement or den. Some people had two or three. Organs were a big deal for a long time, and then they just weren’t anymore. Why, I wonder. What ruined it? /And where did they all go?/

How to use the toilet in space, in case you ever have to.

If you love me.

Big vaj energy. (via b3ta) This reminds me of an old seaman’s song that went something like, “Pull up the sheets, me hearties, swab the decks with brine. Bend to the oars, ye lousy whores, for none is bigger than mine.” I think it was called /The Three Whores of Winnipeg/, but I can’t find that anywhere. There’s /Winnipeg Whore/, but that’s not the song. I guess nobody famous enough ever recorded it, so.

Slide show of The Onion’s look at 188 trimesters of reproductive rights in America.

The entire Trump presidency edited down to 68 minutes by Vic Berger.

Time coke.

The curse.


“Man, you’re a blonde goblin. You’re a busted scooter at the dump.”

Juanita sent this. It’s a puppet painter.

Saw that coming.

Bruce Laks sent this. Nelly McKay (say muh-KAI).

Everything Nellie McKay does is golden. Here she is in 2004. So languidly sarcastic. She rhymes golden retrieverish with Leave It To Beaverish.

And on Halloween in 2007. She and Maria Bamford and British comic actress Sally Phillips (of /Smack the Pony/) and even Parker Posey all merge together in my mind. They have the same kind of edge.



Turn the playback speed up to 2x.

1.25-billion-pixel image of the Milky Way.

Okay, one, don’t call your mother /Dude/.

So did she vote twice?

What. (via Fark)

Dam it. (via NagOnTheLake)

Be your own boss. You don’t /have/ to paint your fingernails gold, but it couldn’t hurt.

Viola is dead.

Tiny and colorful. (via EverlastingBlort)

Ad for Indian snack food.

Hat’s a luck.

The barrel and rug event.

How they go.

“Luckily he landed on his bottom. This happens every year. Parents need to be careful.” (It’s not just the toy fireworks, it’s the collected explosive gas in the tubes that does the work.) (via b3ta)

International Sweethearts of Rhythm. (via EverlastingBlort)

And the Bengsons.

And the Bengsons and their friends.

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