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Context collapse.


     “Just because they smile and eat chicken doesn’t mean they have mastered their emotions.” -T’Pol, to Archer, about a band of odd renegade Vulcans, one of whom within mere hours proved her correct by mind-raping her and infecting her with an MTD

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-12-18) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


And thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only that show but also other ones going back awhile.

In the show above you’ll hear John Sakowicz’ poetry in Polish, minus the Polish, as well as Douglas Wayne Coulter’s poetry; a traditional Alex Bosworth story but updated; the first in a new series of stories about dogs Zeke Krahlin has known; Werner Herzog embellishes and annotates The Night Before Christmas to now have bats (fledermäuse); some history explaining how we get into messes like the mess we’re in and how we got out of them, or didn’t get out, the last few times around; gene and brain and space and Earth science; art decryption; lifesaving tips and tricks; Paul Modic’s lyrically self-deprecating memory of every natural sex act he ever had, including nearly his whole rolodex of client names and detailed statistics; there is a recording of Riantee’s (don’t say RAIN-tree’s, rather say ree-on-TAY’s) children’s story /Mimi the Cat/ read soothingly gently and slowly by professional Toni Birnbaum as if she’s reading to a small sleepy person sitting in her lap, and of course the usual panoply of useful, whimsical, educational information, much of it arguably essential, on all the subjects of the rainbow including the so-called Color out of Space and angles Euclid never knew, which do not in fact cause madness, that’s a myth. You know what drives you mad? I’ll tell you what drives you mad: the gas-powered leaf-blower from hell outside at nine o’clock on Saturday morning drilling into your head when you’ve been up all night on the radio, cleared up odds and ends, brushed your teeth and finally got to sleep, after a week of dealing with getting your car fixed for almost the entire car’s replacement cost because thieves hacked the catalytic converter out from under it probably right when you were blithely doing your radio show /last/ week and you didn’t find out about the damage until you’d put all your stuff in the car on Sunday night and started it to go back to Albion for work, and you probably woke everybody /else/ up in the whole apartment complex with the profound unmuffled exhaust noise of that, and now you have to be all paranoid about anybody being around in the parking lot who you don’t know by name and even some you do, because what if it was them? What if it was that nice guy who folded your clothes so he could dry his when you forgot to go get them that time? What if it was someone in the pay of some right-wing rich fellow who got pissed off at something funny he heard you say on the radio and said, low and menacing, or cheerful and sneering, “Here’s fifty and some tools, go fuck with that guy, use your imagination, show him what’s funny.” See? Madness. And it occurs in an endless chain. How do you think they got the way /they/ are? Besides drugs, sure; they’re probably all on drugs. I remember one time years ago when I was in the City for some holiday conference seminar thing –nothing to do with drugs; it wasn’t an AA or NA meeting or anything like that; it was a serious scholarly whatchacallit– and I realized that I was the only person at the big table or in the room or maybe two miles in every direction who wasn’t obviously on drugs. I think that might have something to do with everyone acting  like irresponsible juvenile delinquents, and not just lately, witness our glorious leaders throughout history. For the first two-thirds of the American experiment nearly everyone was drunk nearly all the time, and now they may not be drunk all the time but they’re high or mood-or-conscience-modified on something else. I can understand why a child would see a thing he wants that belongs to someone else who’d really miss if it was gone, and the child looks around to see if anyone’s looking and just breaks it off and takes it. You’re supposed to grow out of being like that. I’m not really sure, because I don’t have a ton of experience with drugs, liquid, solid or vaporous, because I never liked any of them that I tried, but I think everyone being on drugs all the time might have something to do with not growing out of things they should grow out of, and with stealing my catalytic converter, dang them to heck.

After I wrote that, the leaf blower finally shut off, all the leaves presumably having been moved a few steps to the left and then back again. So the giant stupid motorcycle in the apartment block across the industrial yard started, and I guess its master was adjusting the carburetor or something because it banged away, idling high and low and occasionally revving up, sounding like a string of M-80s going off (that’s on purpose; there is no mechanical reason why a motor a third the size of a quiet car motor has to be as loud as a jackhammer) for another half an hour. It was still going when I got back from walking to the store. Whatever they were adjusting about it didn’t improve it any. I’ve said this before and it bears repeating: If a policeman can give a $350 ticket to someone for playing his car stereo too loud, he should be able to give a $350 ticket to a motorcycle every time it drives by loud enough to hurt your head… Maybe that’s it: maybe people who have that kind of motorcycle are deaf and otherwise desensitized now and just don’t notice it anymore, and it’s pleasant, like Laurie Anderson’s /bees on a warm summer day/ to them. Or maybe they enjoy the sensation of terrific sound pressure levels loosening the sticky phlegm in their bronchial tubes so that at last they can really cough.

Besides all that, here’s your weekly jumbo-size pack of links to not-necessarily-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.

Speaking of context: “A headless angel playing a lute and the three wise men atop some insane-looking camels were rejected.”

The weight.

Art observing itself. My favorite is the one with the blue-clad man and blue painting on the left and the Goth-attired woman and her matching Gothic interest on the right. Or maybe the pigtails that suggest the carved golden frame. Juanita’s favorite is the one with the matching silver cloth draped over the matching butt. (via Fark)


Kind of hard to look away, isn’t it? This reminds me, science has established that if you set a picture or painting of someone looking directly into the camera, or a mannequin with a face, or even just a picture of an eye, much less a real camera, prominently where it can be seen from outside through a store window, you get way less shoplifting there, and vandals are very much less inclined to break that window. Also, I find I can clearly imagine the woman’s voice and what kind of dog she’d have if she only had one.

Record Jenga balance tower. That table must be bery heavy. The slightest vibration would make this project impossible.

Jerry Murad’s Harmonicats. These guys were on Lawrence Welk a few times that I remember, and they were performing on stage through the 1980s when they were very old. The harmonica promotes cardiopulmonary health, just like the big brass instruments. If you don’t have stroke because of the pressure you just go on and on like an ancient Galapagos turtle.

Ze Frank true facts: army ant riders.

The philosophy of the push latch mechanism.

Wax on, wax off. (via EverlastingBlort) (Click the sound on.)

Traditional Japanese fastener-free and glue-free wood joinery.

The history of the guitar. (Almost an hour. Very worth it.)

The Riddler’s riddle (and sorrow and shame).

I repeat: That explains it, then:

Blob opera. Watch the tutorial or just poke at it until you figure it out. I love this musical toy. It won’t work on my work computer but it works fine on my phone. And you can record your compositions and play them back! A wonderful toy.

Sometimes I used to take my glasses off like that and enjoy pretending to be that upset. I can really be that upset now. That’s how you get to Carnegie Hall.

Auroras (plural) Australis.


Trailer for upcoming /Shadow in the Cloud/. I know I will like a story about a competent fearless woman saving the day and the world despite the silly arrogant goofball men who just get in her way. Think Peggy Carter: Agent of Shield, or Ripley in the Alien franchise, or that warrior valkyrie woman in The Mandalorian, which I haven’t seen this year of yet; don’t tell me anything about it. And flying werewolves, like the Swiss flag, are a big plus.

Speaking of which, the trailer for Wonder Woman ’84.

Macaws doing what they’re supposed to do, where they’re supposed to be, wings intact.

Video of the sea angel under the ice. It’s a kind of slug.

And the sea bunny, also a kind of slug.

And a jerk possum. Maybe turn the sound on; though all you hear is trickling water it enhances the effect. (via EverlastingBlort)

Kinetic sculptures.

Art. (via EverlastingBlort)

So much fun for them.

I remember reading about this idea from the 1930s. It’s still a great idea. Airplanes can always take off and land into the wind. It minimizes danger of crashing into other planes. It makes everything easier, and the entire airport doesn’t have to be any bigger. You just have to move a little dirt around, but you have to do that anyway.

I adore this crazy angry dog. It can yawn and growl angrily at the same time, it’s that angry.

…It reminds me of The Angriest Dog In The World. By the way, David Lynch is /David Lynch/, the filmmaker.


Sassy Justice. The story of the best little reindeer.

Ballsy reporter.

Every movie cough. Oh! There’s the little girl in Tarsem Singh’s /The Fall/. (via EverlastingBlort)

1000-mousetrap chain reaction in slow-motion. Show starts at 6:30.

A deeply educational ad for a new game.

Drill sergeant. I wish the camerperson had been closer to her, for the sound.

Randy Rainbow’s latest.

Video charting culture by movement of notable people. (via Dr. Pickover’s Reality Carnival)

What a great idea: put asbestos dust in cigarets to protect you from the tobacco.

Just spitballing here, but…

I almost can understand this. That’ll have to be good enough. (via b3ta)

The 1950s Jennings Univox.

Study this and think about what it means. (Click on map to magnify.) And/or place your cursor over the map to read the hover-text.

And a short film about the man who invented wind-up clacking teeth, the bubble gun, hula-dancing solar-powered plastic window plants and 800 more things we all use every day. /I love it that this man exists./ He invented the gun-in-the-hat. (That was a regular cowboy hat where, if some other nine-year-old cowboy came up behind you with a cap-gun six-shooter (with paper roll caps, more like a hundred-shooter, though every fourth or fifth cap didn’t work right) and said, “Stick ’em up!”, you could turn around to face him, politely take your hat off and turn it upside down, the way you just naturally do, and a little cap-gun would pop up out of it on a spring-lever and automatically shoot the kid who was robbing you.) He didn’t invent the /original/ large Galapagos turtle with revolving clockwork eyes and extra string, but he popularized one affordable by the masses. The Vac-U-Form set. Battling Tops. Kerplunk! (the game). You’ll see all that and more here. (20 min.)

Alien’s medical visit, showing exactly what’s wrong. When I was a boy and you went to the doctor because your foot was broken (ow) or you were thinking of suicide or you couldn’t stop coughing, the doctor looked down your throat, listened to your breathing, maybe took some blood or spit and looked at at under the microscope and gave you a shot or a bottle of pills; set the bones, mixed the plaster and put the foot in a cast; asked you what the problem was that you were upset about and told you some tricks to get by until your mind settled, and did it all quickly and competently and seemed like he’d be happy to see you again later to see how things turned out and maybe cut the cast off with a pipe saw right there in his little house office. And if there was a weird thing growing on your hand he’d cut it off, sew it up, put a bandage on it and tell you not to get it wet. Now if you have a weird thing growing /anywhere/ on you they tell you to make an appointment with the weird-growing-thing doctor twelve miles in the other direction, and the appointment is entirely in the next season, and when you finally see them, if you live that long, they poke at at and say, “That’s not a big deal,” because look how long you lived with it, worried, so /now/ of course it’s not a big deal,and it’s $875 just for looking, which your insurance only pays $600 of, when your doctor could have cut it off in a minute in the first place and sewed it up in three minutes and told you don’t get it wet for awhile, and you might have a scar but it’d be a cool scar.

NewAtlas pointed me to this flickr set of curated Hubble images. Scroll down.

Wander around in real time in an infinite procedurally generated city. That’s a thing you can do now. This is just a video, though. (in BoingBoing)

This was two years ago. They’re all still on the force. They still haven’t even been /interviewed/ about it, much less disciplined in any way. It’s nice that one of them got her a coat and a blanket, that was sweet, but I hope this woman sues the whole city for $473 million dollars and actually gets it.


Time travel twins.

Time-lapse project. In the making-of video: “And then I line up my ears. Then my nose. Sometimes it looks like my ears are too far apart because I am actually facing forward too much, and that makes my head bigger in the frame. /Then/ I can do my nose.”

“A favor I’ll ask, however,” she said. “Pluck not the flowers. The price is your head!”


Les Paul and Leo Fender were friends. Who knew? Everything about this video is interesting. (35 min.)

That’s probably it. Sure, why not.

Orbits with no math.

It sounds like a Jewish wedding song.


Watch a rug be cleaned by people who aren’t being paid by the job but rather by the hour.

Watch him clean their clocks. That’s an old-fashioned way of saying /beat them up/. With his car.

Watch metronomes get their periods in sync.

Watch, and listen to, beavers eat. This is probably the most peaceful thing you’ll experience for the next quite a while.

Watch a tomato rot. Unrot. Rot. Unrot. It’s like where Jeffers’ mind-cloud has been rejected, for attitude, by the InfoSphere of the Red Shiny Robots of Vortis in the British space opera /Hyperdrive/. To perturb navigator Vine he enters and leaves his own corpse, saying telepathically, “Alive… and dead again… And alive… and dead again.”

Watch a pine cone blossom. Or simply dry out, whichever you like.

Watch a kid unicycle, hula hoop, balance a spinning plate on a stick on his nose and juggle bowling pins, all at the same time. Imagine the pattern of electrical activity in his brain while this is going on.

The miracle of Xmas.

Precious little snowflakes.

And so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye, until next week.


From → Uncategorized

  1. Douglas Coulter permalink

    We have a Wallmart a theme park and a prison
    Our town provides all that we need
    I work as a guard I mow my front yard
    At night I watch prisoners bleed

    I spend most my wages at Wallmart
    Buying junk that is made overseas
    Then I ride through that park
    In tunnels so dark I forget the jail miseries

    Work at the prisons quite easy
    Close my eyes at things painful to see
    Near the end of my shift my mind starts to drift
    To the newest ride beaconing me

    We keep the race pot well heated
    United gangs frighten the guards
    Divide and conquer is not just a motto
    It makes my dirty job simple not hard

    I try to forget all the anguish
    Those dirtbags in orange suits bare
    A rollback is on and I’m trying on
    Some fancy new sports underwear

    Last night the laundry was empty
    On advice from the lead graveyard screw
    The new kids rear ended but I ain’t offended
    That’s just the stuff prisoners do

    A shanking went down in the day yard
    But nobody saw anything strange
    I’m off to the mall to engrave bowling balls
    And pick up a glass cooktop range

    Dogma is delusion in a tuxedo
    Normal folks can make polished Nazi’s
    Don’t question this system of order
    And never piss into the breeze

    I wrote this song while I was drinking
    Liquid courage to strengthen my plan
    Truth I must speak though my words are weak
    I dread the virtues of a self righteous man

    Douglas Wayne Coulter

  2. Douglas Coulter permalink

    The Orange whale meets the Beach Boy

    Since he lost his job it seems the Donald’s going outta his head
    He plays a lot of golf, Tweets and sues everybody not in his bed
    But Biden doesn’t look so fine as the Grim Reaper waits in line
    We’ve gotta help the Donald move out of the big White House
    Help the Donald help help the Donald……

    He wuz gonna make us great make us proud again that we wuz white
    So he brought in his rich buddies and he cuddled with the Nazi right
    Now he hopes to bunker down and keep the White House his hometown
    We’ve gotta help the Donald move out of that big White House
    Help the Donald help help the Donald…..

    He built a lotta walls and stuck so many children into a cage
    He used his riot squad for a photo op of the wrong Bible page
    The honey buckets open wide the stench that politicians hide
    They wanna help the Donald move out of that big White House
    Help the Donald help help help the Donald…..

    Help the Donald yeh move him outta the house

    Can’t understand why AVA deletes all my poems
    Douglas Wayne Coulter
    Nov 2020

  3. Douglas Coulter permalink

    Don’t gather near people just tune into zoom
    Make sure you wear masks when you inter a room
    Then kill every germ that may threaten your doom
    If your health is worthy of saving
    Isolation and depression as we all die alone
    Yet my Depends just may need a changin

    Come writers and critiques that prophesy with your pens
    Point fingers of blame at your enemies friend
    And don’t Tweet to soon till the final counts in
    There’s no telling who might see convictions
    For the winner now might get lost in the end
    And my Depends just may need a changin

    Come Senator McConnel and dread Mr Barr
    Quit blocking the highway with that rusty old car
    You’ll be run out of town with feathers and tar

  4. Douglas Coulter permalink

    The Rapepublic party is aging
    Red hats Brown Shirts will leave a deep scare
    While my Depends still need a changin

    Come mothers and fathers keep the kids out of school
    Close down all the places not a government tool
    And pay corporations who break every rule
    Mom and still wait for stimulation.
    But Walmart is open and Black Fridays at hand
    And my depends can wait for some changing

    The line it is drawn now big Pharm owns the task
    Of answering the whole human race as we ask
    Is profit more precious than nature so vast
    While we watch TV and sit on our ass
    Did history just get thrown out the window?
    Every great leap of science leaves us damage that lasts
    And my depends just may need a changin

  5. Douglas Coulter permalink

    Oh wait I might the most deleted poster to ADA but they never mention my violation ,
    Truth is the great crime of history.

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