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Victim of them.


     “The first author would like to acknowledge and thank Jesus Christ, through whom all things were made, for the encouragement, inspiration, and occasional hints that were necessary to complete this article. The second author, however, specifically disclaims this acknowledgement.” –Michael I. Hartley and Dimitri Leemans, Quotients of a Universal Locally Projective Polytope of Type {5, 3, 5}, Mathematische Zeitschrift 247:4 (2004), 663-674 (via FutilityCloset)

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2021-10-01) 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 lsteast an hour of the above eight-hour show’s material, as usual, without asking for anything in return.

Here’s my latest dream journal post on Medium. And here’s something odd that I don’t quite understand: when I go there not logged in to my account, to see what others will see, I’m only shown the latest month of posts, when they really go back a lot longer than that to where I started keeping a dream journal again (after years of not). I can look up some other writers on Medium and see all their dozens of posts in a list. I wonder if access to my posts is limited because I use a free account.

I’m looking forward to when you send me something of your dream journal. Or regular journal; it doesn’t have to be dreams. Email me your writing on any subject and I’m happy to read it on the radio. That’s what I’m here for.

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:

Holly Tannen – Victim of Them.

German auction of an accordion fit for the Hindu deity with the most hands. (I’m having some trouble finding out which one that is. Accounts vary. Some of them have more heads than normal, too.)

This doesn’t seem to be any effort at all for her. It’s almost as though she’s not even in the same room, or as if she’s mentally across town, or has gone to Mars, like in the John Prine song. As natural as breathing. Really impressive.

The people, they are dumb.

The facts in the case of Dr. Andrew Wakefield.

The grand Gregoir (say gruh-GWAR).

Coin-operated haunted house machine. The man made it himself from scratch. (You might have to click the sound on.)

Why does the rain.

The power of schnauzers. “No time for play! Go straight!” she says in Russian.

Rerun: Bobby McFerrin and the power of the pentatonic scale.

Kerry Callen and the power of cartoon physics. “If you don’t love me now, you will never love me again.”

Happy French people enjoying a revolutionary new French invention in 1952.

What make you happy?

The beauty and utility of the duck stamp. John Oliver. (12 min.) You might recall that in the film /Fargo/ the husband of pregnant law officer Francis McDormand won this competition. It was in the very last minute, the highlight of the story, for me. Some might feel the highlight of the story of /Fargo/ involved a motorized vegetation chipper/shredder.  That was just something else that happened in the story, not a highlight, to me.

Speaking of which, rerun: The power and grace of SuperJesus.

Caravaggianical (say kar-uh-vaj-YAN-ih-kul) cosplay. (via NagOnTheLake)

Undersea internet cables. Play the video of Earth turning around to see them all. A huge chunk of North America’s connection to Asia goes through a cable that enters the sea in Manchester, just north of Point Arena. There’s a building with a coiled-razor-wire-topped fence around it.

Vesuvio. (via Everlasting Blort)

Don’t be skinny. Skinny girls ain’t got oomph. Oomph!

A lovely placeholder from the past of Girl Genius webcomix, because Phil Foglio is recovering from shoulder surgery and can’t use his good hand to art with for awhile. Which snail is your favorite snail? I like Udolpho, probably because he gives a big smile and looks directly into the camera. Remember that next time someone’s taking your picture. That you know of.

Click through 30-some lonely photos. (via NagOnTheLake)

Happy horror cornfield clowns. (via MissCellania)

Traffic in 1972. Full concert.

Smells Like Teen Spirit with deaf captions made of people’s names and titles of posts on various media.

The Pink Panther theme played with a marking pen. Turn it up loud. (via Clifford Pickover)

…And the video that autocued after that for me: An educational film about topology. Surprisingly engrossing.

Copycat laws.

What country is this, I wonder. It can’t be the U.S., where a single child would fall off or scrape his finger on the ground or something in the first minute it was there and the parents would sue the city for 400 million dollars. In Italy, I read, if you trip and fall off a bridge, or get your ankle stuck in a revolving door, or reach without looking and put Brylcreem on your toothbrush instead of toothpaste and throw up, the law considers that to be your own stupid fault. (via Clifford Pickover)

Why aren’t all internal combustion engine vehicles this way? It looks like it adds a hundred pounds to the bus for the sliding rails and maybe a splined telescoping drive shaft, but think of the advantages to being able to fix any part of the motor while sitting on a normal chair. My friend Dan and I rebuilt a VW bus motor in 1978, I think, or ’79, and it was a royal pain in the ass to just get it out from under there and put it back in, not to mention sitting crosslegged on the ground the whole time of fixing it.

All about trick hydraulic truck bed niche culture. (via MissCellania)

Fastest gun anywhere and anywhen, until 2012, when he died of a heart attack. In all the shots he fired in all the thousands of competitions he won, and all the practicing and hunting and so on that he did in his whole life, he never hurt anybody or anything, to speak of, that he wasn’t aiming at; he was that careful. According to his wife Becky, “Bob started suffering chest pains while driving home to Butte from a Missoula hospital after receiving treatment for a mild heart attack.” His last words were, “Keep drivin’, Becky.” That’s my new motto: Keep drivin’, Betty.

So long mahr, we’re off to join the wah. That’s how they talk there. They put an R on the end of things that don’t have one, and take it off things that do, just to be clever and sound like someone in a movie. Speaking of which, we learn from movies and plays that British people who fancy each other stay apart for as long as they can stand it, while the tension ratchets up and up, and then when it’s too much to bear they rush to an attic or toolshed or cloakroom or secluded gazebo and fly at each other like magnets. Kissing like swordfighting with their long sharp brittle-looking noses they tear each other’s clothes half-off –always only half-off– in a mindless frenzy, and then somehow it’s a little later in the afternoon, they’re sorry about whatever happened between them while the cameraman was changing film reels, and they’ve ruined each other’s lives and marriages and families and possibly the Empire’s hopes of winning the wah… And it’s not as if there was anything to be done about it; they knew at first glance what would be. As Ruby Bell said to Rachel Archuletta in Mendocino Theater Company’s 2006 production of Steve Martin’s /The Underpants/, when Rachel says she’ll simply not rendezvous with the dashing Count, not be unfaithful to her husband, “It’s too late, dear. You’re already thinking about it.” But this article is about buses.

An interdimensional train ride.

And another one.

A documentary about Gene Roddenberry and Star Trek: The Next Generation. William Shatner interviews the real people involved. (60 min.)

Kazuo Ohno – My Mother. (45 min.)

Interviews with animals.

Fred Armisen’s impression of a nature-show time-lapse decomposing fox.

Images of mermaids and tritons.

“Also it’s very very hot. You can’t even touch it.” Funny. You can look up for yourself images and videos of where the wind blew millions of dollars worth of this crap over because of its being set in too-sandy concrete, or a rivulet undermined it…

How we get balls, specifically basketballs. You’d think the process would be entirely automated by now, but there are still a lot of human hands involved.

How animals would walk if they were people. (via BoingBoing)

Literal steampunk coffeemaker.


On the other end of the scale (and the gene pool): this antivax loonball with an Oedipal fixation. Don’t get me wrong; he doesn’t necessarily want to do his mother; he wants you to do your mother, but only if you’re someone who reported that he got covid after he told everyone covid was a hoax and caught it anyway, because you hurt his feelings, you effing MFer. (I like the shape of his head, though. He’s like a beluga whale machine in a penny arcade or a highway gas station, that swears bitterly at you from a scratchy record inside when you put a penny in and gives your fortune or advice on a strip of paper. Remember those?)

Documenting the last payphones in America. (via Everlasting Blort)

“It is a truth universally acknowledged.”

Inspirational bullshit posters.

Hot Wheels.

The myth of plastic being recycled.

Here’s a way to tell how stupid your religion is. Check the rules. If it’s against the rules for you to do this, as though you could, that’s a sign.

Eyes. Dutch sailors brought this there in their testicles. It’s a fact.

A compilation of the /It’s A Fact!/ bits from Kids In The Hall, from thirty years ago. The young actress’ name is Jessica Schifman, and she is now a successful architect in Toronto. It’s a fact!

Why does the woman want it to get off the boat /here/? Why doesn’t she just start the motor and take it someplace the monsters can’t go, like the edge of the water right over /there/?

Images of different forms of music notation. (via Clifford Pickover)

Living music notation. I imagine that how these people interact is how people who read music fluently interact with the page, what it must feel like. It’s a back-and-forth process.

Speed guide to Super Metroid. Just skip to anywhere in this and marvel at the explanatory competence of Rain, the author. (via BoingBoing)

The Box, by Richard Matheson, adapted for the internet age by Abby Howard. (via Mendocino cartoonist and handyman Bill Cornelius).

The Box, by Richard Matheson. It starts here on page 2 and runs to the middle of page 7.

Elementary canal.

Careers in sound effects. Make $3 a week and eat steak. (It doesn’t sound to our age like it would be much of a steak, but in 1934 you could buy a Sears piano for $5 including rail shipping all the way from Chicago. And they’d lift it into your parlor and stick around and tune it for you.

The beturbaned (say bee-TERB-und) organist here, Doctor Lonnie Smith, just died Tuesday.

How Germany teaches trainee train men (and train women) to keep trains from ever going the wrong way and crashing into other trains.

Not a jot of room for improvement in that choreography. With genius choreography there is always a nice balance of inevitability and surprise.

Rerun: “Beyond expert.”

Art. (via BoingBoing)

Art. (via Everlasating Blort)

Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

The Pointer Sisters sing 1,2,3,4,5 – 6,7,9,10 -11,12. (12 min.)

Cyclical art. “The young girl, with her unblinking eyes and calm expression, is plunged under the water as the tides rise, before emerging again as they fall, a cycle that repeats over and over, day after day.” Also her head is as big as a beachball.

Auroras seen from space.

And Julie Andrews in 1968. Whenever anyone complemented her on her grace in motion, her poise and posture and showmanlike presentation, she always attributed the whole shebang to being taught to tapdance as a small child, because of Shirley Temple.


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