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A map of Fillory (or) Kazak, hound of space.


     “…One day when I was a young boy on holiday in Uberwald I was walking along the bank of a stream when I saw a mother otter with her cubs. A very endearing sight, I’m sure you’ll agree, and even as I watched, the mother otter dived into the water and came up with a plump salmon, which she subdued and dragged onto a log. As she ate it, while of course it was still alive, the body split and I remember to this day the sweet pinkness of its roes as they spilled out, much to the delight of the baby otters, who scrambled over themselves to feed on the delicacy. One of nature’s wonders, gentlemen. Mother and children dining upon mother and children. And that is when I first learned about evil. It is built into the very nature of the universe. Every world spins in pain. If there is any kind of supreme being, I told myself, it is up to all of us to become his moral superior.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-06-25) 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.

Annie Liner wrote:

Many of you have asked how you can help Jose Xanuitzil’s family and his young children. A terrible tragedy happened on June 11th when Jose, a long time beloved employee at Harvest Markets died in a car accident with his girls in the car. Jose’s 11 year old daughter, Samantha was severely injured and was hospitalized and had to undergo surgery to save her life at UC Davis. 15-year old, Nicole, has had to make decisions while her mom has been at UC Davis with Samantha. The family was still grieving the loss of Jose’s sister to COVID and now they have lost him as well. The funeral mass was Friday, June 25 at Our Lady of Good Counsel Church, followed by graveside services.

Donations to help with burial expenses and the girls’ care can be made at all Harvest Market checkout registers. You just ask to donate and the checkout clerk will add it to your items and it’ll show up on your receipt. Any amount is good, however small or large. You can also mail a donation to Mendocino Coast Children’s Fund, PO Box 1616, Mendocino, CA 95460 or donate at

Please note Misfortune Fund on your check or cc donation. Let’s surround these children with generosity and love. The MCCF Misfortune Fund acts on behalf of our coast community to provide aid to children impacted by accidents, illness and/or the loss of a parent.

Our condolences to the family. (signed) Annie Liner of the Mendocino Coast Children’s Fund.

*  *  *

There’s a passel of material in this show. Ecology, science, psychology, a cure for Alzheimers, critical race theory, space news, latest developments in sex robots, poetry, pathos, artificial intelligence, Mendocino County history, Louis C.K. on the comic juxtaposition of a fictitious chain of pet stores and insane wealth. Andrew Scully called to read his new article about world-famous covid-liberty-circus Fiddleheads cafe; the phone device I used to put that call on the air sounded weird, but you can understand every word. This coming Friday and one or two Fridays after that I’ll be back in Fort Bragg for the show, and the phone thing there makes you sound great. The number is 707 962-3022, after 9pm, Friday night.

And I’m keeping my dream journal again. Here’s the latest of it.

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:

This man is running against Sarah Huckabee Sanders for the governorship of Arkansas. I’m instantly in love with him and his whole family, who are the polar opposite of the selfish corrupt ignoramus middle-school bullies nearly everywhere anymore in politics. I wouldn’t be surprised if this campaign ad turns out to be a clever hoax, but I hope he and they are real, and I hope he wins. I mean, the Trumps, and people who ally with or merely hope to emulate the Trumps, are Ferengis from fricking Ferenganar, compared to this family.

The Bachelor, whatever that is, but with monkeys.

Rules of play. (via Everlasting Blort)

They use a special plasma wind tunnel to test the blast of reentry into atmosphere on spacecraft materials. (There’s no sound, but you can make that yourself with your mouth. The right sort will find themselves doing it autonomically.)

You’ve seen the Mentos-candy-in-the-soda-pop trick, but you haven’t seen it like this. Slo-mo guy Gavin sets a high-speed programmable industrial robot to move the camera to track the action.

Mento is also a kind of music from the heart of the Space Age that literally sparked a revolution in musician-modded electric instruments. /Electrified/ instruments is a more accurate word in this case, because the strings shocked the musicians’ fingers, resulting in both the staccato technique you hear and the rictus smiles you see.


Murdershow, murdershow, I’m gonna watch a murdershow. This will get stuck in your head and you’ll catch yourself humming it or mouthing it for the rest of the week. (I haven’t seen any of the shows they mention.)

Ozzy Man discourses on the subject of attractive Spanish-language teevee weather presenters, (via b3ta)

And Shok, a short film about wartime in Kosovo. (Warning, true story, not funny. Weeping now; be warned.) (20 min.)

Creative plodding.

Creative pranking. Perfect. Way to make a point.

…This is part of that:

Demonstrating the problem of relying on experience: An example of the deceptive certainty that you heard and saw what you heard and saw. “I know what I saw. I know what I heard.” It reminds me of a true story in the news years ago where a boy was convicted of murder because he shouted, “Let ‘im have it!” when his brother was told by a policeman to give up his gun, meaning /Give the policeman the gun./ (That’s how I chose to understand it.) The jury was influenced by prosecution to believe, though, that, “Let ‘im have it,” meant, “Shoot him.”

Mom’s home!

So energetic! Zoom, /Space Rescue/ (1978). (via Everlasting Blort)

Rerun: vintage hippie party. From the days when you could /stick it to The Man/, as they used to say, by taking off your clothes and skipping around in the park like a fairy. (Fairies predate humankind. That might be the rationale.)

How to be a clown. Full instructions, including how to make a quick poodle out of a noodle balloon.

A simple theremin-sound-alike toy. Playing area is yellow. Controls are at top right and underneath.

Theater percussionist’s head-mounted camera view (and sound) of 14 select minutes of a live production of /West Side Story/.

Rerun: Flight of the Conchords – /Stay Cool, Bret/.

Randy Rainbow’s latest. It’s about Barbra. It was late in the game –I was in my forties– when I learned that gay people have a special thing for Barbra Streisand, but you don’t have to be gay for that; I have always liked it when a woman’s nose is wide at the top like that. It makes them look like a pretty lion or a tiger. If it’s a man, though, it makes him look like a woodcut of the Golem of Prague. I’m sorry, but it’s what I think. There’s nothing wrong with it. I don’t treat him any differently. I know my crooked Horton-Hears-a-Who nose is no prize. One time in high school in animal husbandry class, before the teacher got there one of the cowboy kids –aggies, they liked to be called– confronted me and drawled slowly and menacingly, “Yer nostrils are large.” I said, “Oh. Hm.” He pondered for a moment, and said, “See these boots? These /shit/-kickin’ boots, and they gon’ kick some /shit/.” I said something like, “Ah, I see.” He looked puzzled, or disgusted, or something. Frustrated, probably, I see now, because I wasn’t reacting properly, so giving him no excuse for violence. The teacher came in, everybody sat down, and that was the last of that. I don’t know if it was all because he saw me looking at a girl he liked, or if it had something to do with graphic arts class that also had a high share of California-cowboy-accent boys, and a bigger boy there wanted me to fight his smaller friend in the fistfight-yard behind the church across the street from the school, which I had disrespectfully laughed off, because, are you kidding? No. Well, no, then. The teacher, Mister Atkinson, a master of letterpress printing on the antique equipment available, saw this confrontation, took me aside later, into his office, and said to me, and I quote: “Whyncha just haul off and deck him.” I remember telling you the story of when I was on the way to school one time in Randy’s ’64 Falcon with Mark Dennis and Mike Bell and Chris Byer –Randy, of course, driving– and Mark Dennis gestured at the high school as we turned into the parking lot, and said, “Isn’t this… weird? I mean, school is… /weird/. You know?” And I understood him exactly. Later I learned that all of life is just more high school and high school situations and unfairnesses and mortifications and confusions and popularity contests and arbitrary power trips and it only gets /more/ weird as you age and your ears and nose get longer and longer. I might be projecting. Whatever it is, when it seems like it’s everyone it’s probably you, or the filter you think you can’t do without, which is the same thing.

Speaking of theater, I’ve known a few impressive kids like these. Even as the event unfolds they’re probably already, in their heads, telling their eventual grandkids the story (and a hundred other stories). Peter’s been swung by a negligent or malicious fly crew to crash upside-down and backward through the window. He rights the ship by force of will. Bleeding from the top and back of his head, and no hesitation, he steps up, sprightly, in character: “Oh, hello, Wendy.” And /only then/ she looks up from her mending, stands, and says, “Oh, Peter, there you are.” Wonderful! It makes me think of a movie called /Those Lips, Those Eyes/ (1980), with Frank Langella, ten years after he was in /The Twelve Chairs/. In TLTE he’s not old but he’s older than the kids in the theater they’re inhabiting; they try to humiliate him by sabotaging him on stage, and he shows them, then and in the aftermath, how a professional handles it when things go wrong and just shines brighter.

Carnival ride from hell. Read the full explanation below it. And click on the image for full resolution.

Hitler and Churchill sing /Video Killed the Radio Star/.


Cairo. Scurry like an Egyptian.

See, KZYX airpeople? they know how to do it in Zambia. This is all you have to do. Just get up on your hind legs and say it: “We have to get paid.” They’re probably going to shoot that guy, but /you/ don’t have anything to worry about. Say it.

/Smells Like Teen Spirit/ in Latin and /Immigrant Song/ in Old Norse.

Palindrome Dylan song.

Stop hitting yourself.

How we get zombies. (You might have to click the sound on.)

How we get knives, spoons and forks.

How we get communists.

How we get historical fireworks.

How we get Japanese shadows (1842). (via Everlasting Blort)

Pictures from old books.

New Rick and Morty! Season 5, Episode 1. (22 min.)

It’s not Flit. It’s meant to represent a drug he can’t quit taking.

Positive metallic affirmations.

Buddhist monk sings /Rock and Roll High School/.

Lonely. An excerpt from a new graphic novel.


Marvel characters eating.

“I won’t need nobody else, no, no, no.”

Blech. Two hours of interesting music.

Pretty, (somewhat) geometrical Italy.

Pastel World. (via NagOnTheLake and Everlasting Blort)

Art. (arrow right) (via b3ta)

Art. “Browse and download high-resolution public domain artworks.”

Film guy talks knowledgeably about his favorite movies. Here he does /The Rocketeer/, a personal favorite of mine, up there in my own top-200 of movies. (30 min.)

Rerun: dream motorbike.

The opening of the 2009 film /Watchmen/, nominated as the best film opening ever. I don’t know about /ever/, but it’s pretty good, and it really sets you up for the story, shows you almost everything you need to know.

Annie Kyle’s art history song. (via Everlasting Blort)

Magnetic gears.


…It was also a movie I liked. I /think/ we played it at Mendo Movies.

…and, of course, a social-science-fiction book:

“Adventure awaits. Huzzah.”

New transition contact lenses.

Smoothie King.

“Life out here is hard.”

One of cartoonist/filmmaker Nina Paley’s shorter but no less lovely projects. (via Everlasting Blort)

Back at the Mendocino Community School I made a dual-spring stereo reverb box in a rack frame. It sounded terrible and boingy, like a guitar amplifier with a spring reverb tank, of course. Philo Hayward dedicated a huge upstairs room in his barn in Comptche to be a reverb chamber for the studio on the ground floor. I have a digital Roland guitar effects box, about the size of a couple of packs of cigarets, that I got for $50 about ten years ago, where one of the many choices is stereo plate reverb. And for a while now anyone can have perfectly realistic plate reverb and hundreds of other effects for free with just about any audio editing software. But here’s a real-life real-world plate echo unit from the old days (early 1980s). The lady takes the top off to show how it works and plays with it with her knuckles and a pencil:

…Speaking of which, William Shatner shouted Shakepeare through a plate reverb unit and here’s the evidence for that:

The family Shasta. (scroll down)

The famous old fart-sound song.

Organism. (20 min.)

A trick to generate a Sierpinski (say sir-PINSK-ee) gasket. In case you ever need one because your Sierpinski is leaking.

The jog strap. For thirsty joggers. (via b3ta)

And how to relax this summer.

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