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This means phwoar.


     “You don’t have a skeleton inside of you. You’re a brain. You’re inside of a skeleton. You’re piloting a bone mecha that’s using meat armor.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-09-24) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show on 107.7fm KNYO-LP Fort Bragg (CA), 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.

And thanks to the Anderson Valley Advertiser, which provided at least an hour of the above eight-hour show’s material. And the San Francisco Mime Troupe. Sorry about screwing things up last week, but I got the end episode of the Mime Troupe’s summer radio series on properly this time, and it’s pretty good. Lots of original music in the story, and there’s a part where a character mentions sex in the kitchen, which jumped right out at me like a Jack-in-the-box and made me think of the film /Cherry 2000/, where the dishwasher spills over so badly that soapy water gets into Cherry’s mechanism, through her ear, and she shorts out, and the man has to get off of her and venture away into the Forbidden Desert in search of the abandoned factory that created her, for replacement parts, to make her alive again. That’s love.

[Edit: This is way after my deadline for myself, but I keep forgetting to put a link in my weblog to my latest dream journal post to Medium, so here. I’d love it if you send something of your dream journal. It doesn’t have to be a dreams, though. Email me your written work on any subject and I’m happy to read it on the radio. That’s what I’m here for.]

BUT 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:

Life is a roller coaster. (via b3ta)

Time-lapse demonstration of seasons from a geosynchronous orbit viewpoint with all the other distracting things in the sky removed.

The planets, including Goldilocks, ahem, I mean /Earth/, with its liquid water and meteor-sweeping moon and protective magnetic field to keep the solar wind from eroding the atmosphere. Lots of great pictures and interesting explanations; start with Mercury and work your way outward.

Astro photo contest winners.

Dance. (via Everlasting Blort)

Cow zipper.

The Gunfighter.–eKU

Circus day in our town. Well-cared-for animals, happy to work all day and all night pulling ropes and poles and other animals’ cage-carriages, being whipped, chained, and teased by clothed flesh-colored monkeys who put their head right inside your hydraulic shredder of a mouth full of teeth like a bunch of swords, while all around thousands more monkeys shriek their shrieky laughter through air that smells like prey meat and prey sweat and excitement and fear, and lights are flashing in your face and you’ve never been free and everything is frustrating and wrong, and you’re a LION, for fuck sake. Don’t close the mouth. Don’t. But.

Vitamin D from the sun, our limitless node of psychic energy and source of all health and life. (These guys again, on the concentrated health benefits of the yoga of letting the sun shine up your butt, the [Something] Flower Position; I don’t remember what it’s called. This time they request of their bemused city council to designate a particular park downtown for people to have their not-at-all-gratuitously naked ritual and not get arrested again, because we have freedom of religion in this country, or at least we /did/, last time /I/ read the Constitution. That’s the short version.)

Can you fix climate change? No. Can you make it worse. I guess, sure. Can you stand on your head and drink a glass of water? Maybe if it has a bendy straw. I can wiggle and bend my big toe separately from the other toes, but I still can’t make that wonderful Scottish-Mexican rolling-R sound in speech, nor dance like a person. Depending a lot on luck, I can either fix just about anything put in front of me in a novel and ingenious way or ruin it completely in just as clever a way. I have a lot of trouble forcing myself to fulfill important paperwork even if it’s to save my life –unless it’s my project, like my radio show, for instance, and then I just sail through it. Tell a little about what you can do. (via b3ta)

Table of Lissajous curves. (via Clifford Pickover)

Bounce juggling.

Friction. (via Clifford Pickover)


Monster name generator. Vampire Terror Rhino, for example. I like that. I can easily visualize it. I’ve seen video of angry rhinos chasing people backing away frantically in jeeps. Regular non-vampire rhinoceri often weigh more than a big American car and can run 30-plus miles an hour for essentially ever. I used to be pretty good at backing up a car fast down a long curvy driveway; in my late 20s I did that all the way out to the road from the Whale School every Friday afternoon with a car stuffed full of kids all standing on the seats looking out the back window, leaving space for me to see to steer. When I imagine having to do that with a rhinoceros after me it doesn’t really change anything. Except for I’m a little out of practice and know way better now than to do that, we’d be fine. And there isn’t any Whale School anymore –hasn’t been for thirty years, and the last time there was a Rhinoceros in Albion was 1932. Now, the Feathered Frost Cobra, from the previous item, that’s a terror.

Do you remember finding out that whales have a human-like hand of bones inside their flippers? Well, elephants are all up in their high heel shoes. Or they’re like those Chinese foot-binding victims. Both, because it’s the same thing.

Here’s Christine Lavin on the subject of high heel shoes. She and crucified people can see your house from here. (via Clifford Pickover)

I’d like to see the movie this is the trailer for. The thick makeup makes me feel queasy to think about –I don’t know why, but I hate makeup almost as much as I hate piercings– but here makeup is important to the story, so.

A picturesque little rock mountain in the sea off Italy, viewed from the air.

Bat dog –view (and sound) from the dog.

Dog dreams colors and shapes.

Tripping. A documentary about Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. (60 min.)

Two people orgasmic about colors and color names, but in a black and white film, so you have to color it with your imagination. Keep it inside the lines.

Rock and roll crayon colors.

Davie504 features bass prodigy kids.

The real nitty gritty.

It reminds me of Katy Simonton playing Aunt Bella in Mendocino Theater Company’s production of /Lost In Yonkers/, where she said, “Ahty, ya won’t believe it! The theatah had ayah conditioning! I was ekshully /cold!/” Mercedes Ruehl played Bella in the movie, and she was great too. They were both great.

Out of all the bands with Lamed Wufnik in the name of the band, these guys are clearly tops.

The goat’s kung fu is strong. (via Everlasting Blort)

It’s like in /Firefly/ where Mal says, “Now, I did a job. I got nothin’ but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few unkind words as regard to my character, so let me make this abundantly clear. I do the job. And then I get paid.”

Here’s that, in the original inflection, and 49 more quotes that will make you want to go back and watch /Firefly/ again. When you do, start with the movie, the way you did the first time.

Lots of light and open air disperse the smell of the sheets in there.

T.B. sheets. The sound engineering choice to put (almost) each instrument fully in either the left or right channel was common at the time, but here even the bass guitar is entirely in one channel (left). Listen with headphones. (And don’t decide about how far to turn it up until the harmonica shrieks at least once, in both ears at once, because it’s the loudest thing on the record.) This is one of the cuts that might have been, but wasn’t, from Van Morrison’s contractual-obligation album, where he had to turn out another album for them before the label would let him go, and he just, as you can tell, extemporized the we’re-gonna-call-them lyrics in one take, but people liked it and bought the single.

Masks. (via Everlasting Blort)


Today in Great Scientists of the 21st Century: Jason.

Penn and Teller explain vaccination.

The late Ricky Jay’s magic stuff is all up for auction. Or was, last week; it’s probably all gone now. The wrist device was where they got the idea for the trick Han Solo used to win the Millennium Falcon.

The late Norm MacDonald. As Bill Burr said, that guy wasn’t pretending he didn’t give a fuck, he really didn’t give a fuck. And the world is poorer for his passing.

Of course there are a few people who hated his guts.

He had at least three imaginary dirty uncles. That we know of.

And then there’s this guy, who wrote a paean to Norm MacDonald, which it’s easy to 98-percent agree with. Stick it out to the end.

I’ve seen a lot of the DryBar comedy series and I generally prefer the women comics, but this man has an appealing natural wry favorite-uncle smarter-than-he-lets-on delivery.

Speaking of which, Tom Hanks. Although this looks like someone either read or saw /A Boy and his Dog/ and /Damnation Alley/ and /Castaway/ and thought, /I could make something like that, if Tom Hanks would be in it./ I even liked him in /Cloud Atlas, especially the story at the end/. Sorry, I never saw /Turner and Hooch/; I can’t pronounce upon that… Oh, I see, it’s Tom Hanks and a dog, so, sure.

Do not erase. (via NagOnTheLake)

Sbby lbhe sevraqf. Onssyr lbhe rarzvrf. Sha jvgu EBG-13. Decode that here:

Safe for work. Carlotta Guerrero twerking to Mozart. (via Everlasting Blort)



And Teddy Boys. (via Everlasting Blort) …I had a few reusable mascot cartoon characters I appropriated and/or constructed for a newspaper I published from the early through middle 1990s called /Memo/. There was the Cute Little Dog, a mini-schnauzer or terrier; he looked like Tintin’s Snowy but more like a real dog. There was the Blackbird of Weltschmerz (who brought the mail in her beak for the letters-to-the-editor pages). There was That Wacky One-Arm Girl, always smiling in the same pose at the breakfast table with an also-smiling Bob-Dobbs-like man who was sometimes her father, sometimes her boyfriend or husband, and they’d have a simple conversation in word bubbles, one bubble each; for example, he might say, “Ska-wunt. Ska-wunt-ska wunt-ska!” And she’d say, “/Daaaad! SPA-FON!” And there was Black Leather Teddy, a Teddy bear in a leather bomber jacket (not a camiknicker, or ‘teddy’, as you might think. I had a Dover-book clip-art jacket; I didn’t have a clip-art camiknicker) and wraparound sunglasses. Sometimes the mascots would have a crossover adventure in a display ad or a boxed strip –one Easter-time the Cute Little Dog filled the whole cover page, with a magical shining holy halo of assorted objects and vehicles (washing machine, Eiffel Tower, candy bar, coffeepot, fire truck, sailboat, ice cream cone, etc.) circling his head; the caption was /HE IS RISEN!/ (meaning back from the dead, because in an earlier issue, in an ad for the binoculars store, I think, he was tragically martyred)– but most of the time they stood alone (except for That Wacky One-Arm Girl), representing, as the kids say now. Black Leather Teddy was meant to be John Lennon. Neither he nor the Cute Little Dog could speak.

Turtles all the way up.

Talent. Stay with it through the pause. He’s not finished.

The /Free Bird/ of 1820. /FREEBIRD!/

They’re German women, but doing Swedish gymnastics. Hard to deny with it right there staring you in the face. Like the twerking, see above, safe for work.

More kimonos. Or maybe the same kimonos as last time. Kimonos! (I remember telling you not too long ago that the word for bathrobe in my family when I was little was kuh-MO-nuh. You know what else we had? MUK-uh-luks. That was the word for slippers: MUK-uh-luks. And the word for electric teapot was PITZ-popper. I remember that distinctly.)

James Veitch deep-fakes Sir David Attenborough. I skipped you past the explanation of how it’s done. You can pull the time back and watch that. (via b3ta)

Makes puppets of any person or painting. It’s like the movie /SimOne/ (Simone). (via Clifford Pickover)

The W.W. Chambers mortuary pinup girl calendar for 1948. “In case of death, call Chambers.”

Suit yourself.

Things designed to sink and then unsink. Sink-unsink, sink-unsink, again and again.

What do you suppose they sell in there? (via AVA)

The father of ophthalmology wrote and illustrated a book: /Ophthalmodouleia/ (say opff-thul-mudduh-OO-lay-uh). (via Everlasting Blort)


A five-minute explanation of light and color and how we see them.

Tenjo Sajiki, Japanese avante garde theater troupe. (via BoingBoing)

Right place, right time. The source of Norman Collier’s success. (via b3ta)

The night lunch.

The night snack. Ken Nordine.

The opposite of “We are your friends. Do not run away. Ack Ack Ack.”

“Satanists stand six feet apart. People afraid of COVID stand six feet apart. /You/ do the math.”


Stoicism City.

Hundreds of arts.

Stop-motion Rube Goldberg project.

Things you might see on the Appalachian Trail. Bears, deer, water, mountain vistas. An owie on your elbow. But worth it. What an adventure.

But where are the deaf girls? Aren’t they allowed?

She is entirely unsafe. The wild chopping without looking, dancing around in the path of the knife. Spit-laughing everywhere onto the food and food surfaces. Handling poultry and giblet stuffing and salad on the same surface and without even washing her hands in between. She /wipes her poultry-and-spit-and-stuffing-contaminated hands on the dish-drying towel!/

Slime design. (via Clifford Pickover)


How we get lava lamps.

It’s a selling point, Carl, an opportunity for an ad man to shine. I been in this business a long time, so listen to me: if they can fit this unfortunate girl, they can fit /anybody/. Kick it around a little and see if you can’t come up with something catchy.

It’s like the last-visible-dog scene in /The Mouse and His Son/.

Speaking of which:

Once I’ve got zoetropes on the brain, everything looks like a zoetrope.


There are two kinds of people. 1. People who go /ha ha, stupid robot/. 2. People who want to pick it up and help over the line. 3. People who get an idea about how to solve this and try to figure it out. 4. People who look at their own floor, what you can see of it under the mess, and sigh. /Four/. /Four/ kinds of people. And people who set a cat on it and watch it ride around licking itself, so that’s five.

Betty Boop advocates for humane treatment of animals.

Rerun: What happens to your body after you die.

And I wish mice wouldn’t get in my house and make me have to kill them. They are so smart and cute. I don’t mind killing a rat. Rats are /too/ smart. They’ll be the boss around here in a few years if we don’t watch out.


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One Comment
  1. Douglas Coulter permalink

    I was born in La Honda in 1953 but have no memories. We moved north to Elsobrante and then Sebastapol by the time I was 4. It was all farmland back then.

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