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A tiny mistake in the sky.


     “Nothing renews your faith in the military like the threat of invasion by life-sucking space aliens.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-06-18) KNYO Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show, ready to re-enjoy.


Thanks heaps to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost here’s a page with not only the above MOTA show but also other ones going back quite a way.

I keep forgetting to point out that I’m keeping my dream journal again, though on an erratic schedule compared to the way it used to be. Here’s the latest of that.

AND BESIDES ALL THAT, here’s a fresh batch of 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:

A lovely enticement to consume granite.

Meanwhile, “My Engelsh is just as good as you all’s Engelsh. All you wanta do is /stand out/ and /express/ yourselves. You should just all /shut up/ and quit makin’ a scene,” says the crazy destructive bigot standing out, expressing herself and making a scene here. Thank Christ she doesn’t have a gun. (scroll down to video)

…And speaking of craziness. Mark the effect calm amused politeness has on this creature, like the one above. Again, good thing no gun. (scroll down to video):

Jon Batiste – Freedom.

Jambi is dead. No more rainbows.

Shadows in the sky.

A Thai.

Here’s an image to think about when you feel yourself ramping up to throw a tantrum at someone about something they can’t help but do because they’re mostly stuck being who they are, just as you are. All the trillion stars in this picture, most with planets, many with life, all together are just a little fuzzy dot in the sky, one of billions and billions of such dots, and our nearly-million-mile-wide sun is not even a dot to anybody a ten-thousandth of the way to the galaxy in this photo, and if the entire Milky Way were to somehow go black this instant, which it couldn’t, but if it did, creatures of a planet hidden in the photo couldn’t possibly know about it for /twenty-five million years/, because that’s how long it takes light (or dark) to get there. Our entire stellar group is barely a quantum fluctuation in the noise floor of the cosmic background hum. Maybe the person doesn’t know or care how to pronounce your name or what bathroom to use or which powerful crook to promote and which to vilify or which direction to bang his forehead on the floor to pray on which day, and so on. Maybe everyone is wrong to make an unpleasant fuss out of every petty annoyance. And if so, so what? Make your art. Try to be kind. Enjoy the ride.

“A tiny detail in the sky.”

Perpetual peppers.

Speaking of which, more of Simone Biles in slow motion.

Italian cars. (via Everlasting Blort)

The ultimate dashboard. (via NagOnTheLake)

Clay persons. (via Everlasting Blort)

I remember reading a clever book about a noir-ish private detective in a world populated by disposable proxy people made of flexible intelligent ceramic glop. Let’s see if I can find that… Ahh, here:

Cop approaches man’s house with his creepy hand on his gun. Sees door camera. Breaks camera off so it won’t record whatever he might do –he doesn’t even know what he might do; just from past experience of who he is he’s making sure he won’t get in trouble for it– /then/, that taken care of, he knocks.

The assquatch taxidermy fad. Everybody’s making them.

Joe Manchin’s imaginary friends.

Medieval texting abbreviations.

Rerun: The entire history of the Soviet Union set to the tune of the Tetris song.




Differently-abled comedy.

Tom Cardy – The Future of Humanity. It’s a big responsibility.

Mary Mack, her real name. She’s a tad squeaky, but that’s a performance choice, and it kind of works. I like her. (40 min.)

An Iranian-extract comic fiddler who grew up in France. Nice guy. And generous, considering how valuable his time is.

Fluffy bees cutely crashing into each other.

A comic strip about incel comic strips.

“Up yours, Coleman Sweeney. You’re not an asshole anymore.”

Scrappy baby? Scrappy baby.

French dolphins and a French dog play together on the line between their worlds.




Rerun: Jazzed up broken air conditioner.


I think it’s beautiful.

Shine it with fire. This works by melting a thin layer of the fiberglass resin surface. I’ll bet this would work on plastic headlights, too, but try it on a small spot with a match or something first. On second thought, no; cars are full of gasoline. Never mind. It’s just that replacing an oxidation-clouded modern plastic headlight costs hundreds of dollars. In the old days if you damaged a headlight or it burned out you just got another one for five dollars, removed one screw from the metal ring around it, unplugged the old light, plugged the new one in, and put the screw back. It took three minutes. And it was made of real glass.

Whenever I see the word /warning/ I hear, in my head, Doctor Yueh mutter, “The stains become a warning.” Even if there are no stains anywhere, yet. And then I hear Lady Atreides say, anguished and furious, “A million deaths are not enough for Yueh!” There will be stains soon, though, when the duck plows through a dozen henchmen and walks in on the Russian druglord who killed her egg. The white walls will be drenched in blood. Drenched.

What do you suppose is in there? A penny arcade? A classic Bugatti? A werewolf? (via Fark)

Daredevil recreational glider pilot pole-dances his spindly craft on a ten-million-horsepower tornado tube.

Japanese game show explores the physics of cardboard. (via b3ta)

Art. (thanks to

That. Is. Power.

That is correct.

Aesop Rock song about a frog man.


Back to work.

The last time I saw a game show was so long ago that the ignorance tone wasn’t /doot doot doot/; it was more like /DAAAZZZK/ or /GOVVVVK/.

Technological wonders…

…like the two-billion-year-old natural nuclear power station in Gabon, for example.

What a shrub and a sign get for mouthing off to the wrong fella.

What if every time Captain Picard tugged his shirt down his com badge popped off? (click the sound on) (via MissCellania)

And, “Could you turn the music down a little?” “No, fuck you, your mother was a whore, etc.” “Alrighty then…”

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