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More gauze.


     “Put your finger on this knot, please.” “All right, but don’t do anything funny.” “I’m not doing anything funny, I’m sewing up the patient. It’s you who starts these things.” “All right, all right.” “Oh, I do love you so.” “Please. Please let go of my finger. I knew you were going to do something like this.” “Don’t pull back! I do, I love you, I love you.” “Let go of my finger.” “Don’t pull back, you’re pulling the stitches.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2020-12-25) 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.

There’s everything for Xmas and its aftermath in this show that your quarantine bubble will ever need.

Besides all that, here’s your weekly ration 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.

Cigarets from Santa. “What a treat! A carton (or two) of Lucky Strikes!” (via EverlastingBlort)

You want to start crying from watching young people be great at something? Here, knock yourself out.

Further: Bike Girl.

Nichols and May – More gauze. Part of what I like about this is imagining Ferren and Jill Taylor doing the sketch, just right on top of the microphone, their cheeks touching. (Hi, Ferren! Hi, Jill!)

This instrument was invented in the 1920s. It’s full of radio tubes. The keyboard was originally painted on solid wood and the whole thing was played by pulling the thumb ring left and right on a string; this one is a later model where the keyboard is really a keyboard too.

Xmas is over, huh? Don’t be sad, little guy. Every day is Xmas at Tex and Edna Boil’s Organ Emporium. A free interstate-contraband budgie with every organ, isn’t that a fine thing, Edna. It sure is, Tex.

Tom Waits – Up For Santa. Including /Frosty, Frosty, Frosty the Haunted Snowman/.

Further adventures in Yeshuidical pareidolia.

Flying over X. (via EverlastingBlort)

Il viaggio de babbo natale.

A sweet little true story by Weird Al Yankovic. It’s not ruined at all by noticing that his childhood crush looked just like his mother, and there’s nothing wrong with that, people look like other people; sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. (via Neatorama)

Use a predictive text engine to generate your own story. Wait a moment for word choices to appear, then choose one, then another, and go from there. Fun. It’s like fridge magnet poetry.

Ah. That explains it, then. I guess I’ll have to wait till there are grapes in the store again. There used to always be everything because this is America and we had armored grasping tentacles all over the world, but that system is breaking down somewhat now, fraying at the edges, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I can wait awhile to get two grapes to try this myself.

The others are nice, but I like number 26 the best.

“The most magically magical of any magic square ever made by any magician,” said Ben Franklin modestly.

“Hooliga, hooliga, wadawee! Hooliga, hooliga, wadawee!”

2020’s top cup stackers. They’re so good at it that the video can’t even keep up– their hands are a blur. This is a super-power-level of skill they’ve worked hard to develop and it’s /thrilling/, mostly because it makes them so happy. It’s competitive, but they’re just as happy for each other’s accomplishments as for their own. (28 min. of cup stacking virtuosity, with the speed times in order of better, often just /thousandths of a second/ better.)

“I resolve to put a dog on the moon.” (Technically that’s been done: Snowy, in a dog space suit, in /Tintin: Explorers on the Moon/.) I wonder what happened to my dog-in-a-space-suit t-shirt. That was my favorite shirt. I’ll bet somebody at the laundromat stole it. They stole all Juanita’s underwear once.

I think that in California you can get arrested for doing this. Or maybe it’s just if you take a pebble or shell or something home. Maybe it’s okay.

Once in a Hit and Run Theater show Harry Rothman sang the words to the Bonanza theme song, and it went, “I got a right to pick a little fight, BONANZA. Anybody fights with anybody else, first you gotta fight with meeee.” And I looked it up, and those aren’t the real words. Here are the words to The Mandalorian theme song.

Do you want to know how many people are in front of you in line before you can get the vaccine? It might be a lot and it might be a little. Find out.

How to spend your $600 stimulus check.

I remember showing this to you a long time ago. I just saw it again, and I have to repeat: I love the young couple at 3:05. They’re perfect together, completely on the same page, and they’ll be happy together for the rest of their lives. They are how people should be. And the curly-haired woman in the dark blue one-piece. “No. I don’t have the guts,” she says. She goes to the ladder to go back down, steels herself, goes back up, gathers her will, and calmly steps off, and good for her! (It’s way too high for me; I could never do that. There is no shame in going back down the ladder. Could there be anything more unnatural to the brain than stepping off a cliff –except in a dream. Bill Hicks said of blaming drugs for people jumping out a window, “If you’re ever on drugs and you think you can fly, try it from the ground first. Don’t give drugs a bad name.”)

Researchers laugh at the funny-looking sea creature, but they’re safe, for now, high above in a boat, from its ever catching their nose in whatever those things are in its front (or rear) and teaching them a lesson about respect.

This is like when three children in a cartoon stand on each other’s shoulders so the child on top’s head and arms stick out through the collar and sleeves of the single long coat they’re all inside in order to fool a ticket booth person and get into some adult place. Or even more like the race of intelligent alien snakes in Christopher Baldwin’s webcomic Spacetrawler who mass together in a lump to impersonate larger creatures.

“You’re my present this year.” An oral history of the warmly creepy Folgers incest ad.

Parker Posey in /House of Yes/.

Darth by Darthwest, Part 2.

Is the baby Spiderman or Strong Bad? It’s shaped like Strong Bad. (via EverlastingBlort)

“Holy shit. Oh, my goodness. No way. Holy shit. No. Noooooo. Holy shit.” [POW] “Oh, my fucking god. Oh.” (Eyewitnesses on the scene.)

Leftover fireworks.

Bits&Pieces’ caption is, as they say in French, exactement (say ek-ZAC-t’MOH): “What could possibly go wrong?” It turns out that a thousand bicyclists crashing into each other silhouetted on a bright icy ski slope as seen from a helicopter look like a traffic jam of ants on wax paper in a toilet. It’s like the part in the radio show /Chuck Frank, Private Op/, from the Albion Whale School to KKUP through the phone lines, in 1986, where Chuck (or Clarisse) is looking down from the high private detective office window on the teeming noir city and he (or she) says, “How can they live like that? Why, they look like ants.” And she (or he) says, “They /are/ ants.” Then he (or she) says in internal narrator voice, “I flicked one from my shoulder with a perfect scarlet nail.”

I don’t know how to really think about this. The kid has lived long enough to develop an amazing and spectacular skill, sure, but quit while you’re ahead. Meaning, quit before you do it again, while your head is still attached to the rest of you with all the important plumbing and wiring intact and nothing poking out or bending in a direction it’s not meant to go.

And this. The drone shots following him are really like flying in a dream, and they make it look like /he’s/ flying in a dream, and it’s wonderful, but it’s so dangerous. At least when this guy’s luck runs out he won’t be crushed by a tumbling 900-pound pound vehicle and might only be relatively harmlessly impaled on a handlebar, say.

Here’s some more of that sort of thing. This one has some stretches of paths cut into a cliffside that are completely terrifying; suppose he just faintly catches his handlebar on the rock face at the inside of the path, for example. The fish-eye lens makes speed seem greater, but it’s still crazy. And the knife-edge rock ridges…

Remove the danger entirely, then. It’s just as nice. But I’m old, so I would think that.

This is real. It’s a heavy-equipment operator, in between tasks, playing with a retired Lear-jet. (via BoingBoing)

Dinosaurs in love. Click the sound on. (via EverlastingBlort)

Bob Dylan on the CBC in 1964. (30 min.)

Musical theory in 16 min. I finally get the circle of fifths, and you will too.

Found things. (via Fark)


Here’s a comic strip from 2014 about the /real/ moochers.

Rerun: “So! While Sheena’s being electro cured let’s see what Peter won… That’s right! It’s fuel!”

Penny Can. I don’t know who these people are or what the show they’re in is. Maybe one of them is named Penny Can. That would make sense. Eventually she’d snap and murder them all and they’d be like, “What? Why? We thought you liked it,” and expire. (If I had a quarter for every time I told my name to someone at a counter and some kid behind him at the taco assembly station yelled /POLO!/ and they all started laughing like schoolkids laugh at the skinniest or fattest boy in the shower room, I could wash my clothes any time I wanted to. I can anyway, but I wouldn’t have to go to the store first and get quarters; I could just scoop them out of a bag by the door. No jury in the world would convict Penny Can.)

Spoiler alert. (via EverlastingBlort)

The impressive fake dome of the church of Saint Ignatius.

Everything from the world’s smallest wind instrument to the lady’s leg comb to the Wonder Glove Monkey (Cloth, 15 cents. In real mohair, 45 cents):

I had been been ignoring this link algorithmically appearing everywhere, because from the thumbnail image I thought it was the brilliant one about space alien abductees (that ends with “Tell me ’bout God. What’s God’s deal?”) that I remember watching over and over to memorize it, and/or the sequel, but this is one I’d never seen: it’s still Kate McKinnon and the same structure but it’s about paranormal phenomena. Oh! And then after that you get to see the alien abduction ones too, so this is your lucky day. Every day’s your lucky day when you smoke Lucky Strikes– aaaand we’re back up at the top again with Santa Claus. Santa Claus delivering cartons of delicious cigarets with a cigaret dangling from the corner of his mouth, which was considered an invitation to sexual intercourse in the old days, especially in a woman who had gone overboard in the lipstick department and colored outside the lines. Oops, sorry, paranormal, stay on track here:


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