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The curve of binding energy.


     “In peacetime Fitch would be hanging around a pool table giving the cops trouble. He was perfect for war. Tibbets had chosen his men well—most of them, anyway. Moving back past Haddock, January stopped to stare at the group of men in the navigation cabin. They joked, drank coffee. They were all a bit like Fitch: young toughs, capable and thoughtless. They were having a good time, an adventure. That was January’s dominant impression of his companions in the 509th; despite all the bitching and the occasional moments of overmastering fear, they were having a good time. His mind spun forward and he saw what these young men would grow up to be like as clearly as if they stood before him in businessmen’s suits, prosperous and balding. They would be tough and capable and thoughtless, and as the years passed and the great war receded in time they would look back on it with ever-increasing nostalgia, for they would be the survivors and not the dead. Every year of this war would feel like ten in their memories, so that the war would always remain the central experience of their lives—a time when history lay palpable in their hands, when each of their daily acts affected it, when moral issues were simple, and others told them what to do—so that as more years passed and the survivors aged, bodies falling apart, lives in one rut or another, they would unconsciously push harder and harder to thrust the world into war again, thinking somewhere inside themselves that if they could only return to world war then they would magically be again as they were in the last one—young, and free, and happy. And by that time they would hold the positions of power, they would be capable of doing it.” –from The Lucky Strike, by Kim Stanley Robinson

Marco here, bringing you the recording of last night’s (2022-08-05) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show on 107.7fm KNYO-LP Fort Bragg (CA), ready to re-enjoy:


Thanks 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 or at least alerted me to about an hour of the above eight-hour show’s most locally relevant material without asking for anything in return. And KNYO-LP Fort Bragg, CA, which would be pleased beyond measure to accept your help.

FURTHERMORE, 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:

Basses, loaded.

One bass solo on 200 bass guitars.

Consent. (via Everlasting Blort)

Magnet music.

How we get hex nuts.

“It was cool. I got ta watch a bunch of it.”

KinderGuardians. (via the Anderson Valley Advertiser)

So, that new game where you’re a stray cat in a robot city– it turns out to be really accurate about cat behavior, according to this expert on cats.

A homemade camera lens attachment project.

Och, aye, it’s the end of the world, for sure, when a man pretends to play the fiddle so you’ll give his wife a penny for the bucket. Film at eleven.

I saw this article, and I thought: maybe the handful of people in the office at KZYX who pay themselves comprehensive medical, dental and vision, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and they don’t pay the local airpeople even a penny, though the corporation is /swimming/ in money, much of it tax-derived, might ease into it by trying with something like this. You know, a catering table with free doughnuts, or a Polish-dog roller and a pop machine like in a gas station. Or put a few thousand one-dollar bills in a pickle bucket (bucket again! see above) in the corner of the studio and let airpeople take what they need, on the honor system. Or you could just pay them, like normal, ethical managers do, boss.


Record jackets. (via TackyRaccoons)

15 minutes with Laurie Anderson.

Hand-drawn animation. It reminds me of Ray Rice’s work.


Tangled up in the blue. “Early one morning the sun was shining, I was falling through space…”

She’s dead.

Aren’t these the creatures from the film /Arrival/ (the Amy Adams one).

Mmm, bacon.

“Please protect these defenseless babies against selfish women who want to kiss them!”

It was the Nash’s nose that really sold it. Manly and confident, it penetrated the air with unabashed power, grace, and oomph. I wanted to say /clove/ the air, but amazingly no dictionary shows clove as past tense for cleave anymore. Now it’s just a kind of cigaret for hip skateboarders, and an ingredient of ill-advised old-wives’-tale herbal abortion, and a seasonal seasoning for meat, pie, and drinks. The Nash evolved into the Rambler. I had two of those in my time. One was a dog and the other was a gem– an aqua, hot-oil-smelling, wide-bench-seated, three-on-the-tree gem.


Art. (via Everlasting Blort)

Venice, the happy watersnake. (via Fark)

The Blue Cats – Billy Ruffians. (via TackyRaccoons)

Caterpillar. (via Clifford Pickover)

Just one post from TackyRaccoons’ origin days of ten years ago. It’s their anniversary today.

Air brassieres. I read yesterday that the U.S. Army is currently developing its “first-ever tactical bra.” Tactical. Bra. And /first-ever/? I think not.

But will it have a mouse soul? Sure, why shouldn’t it?

Tangible miniature scenes.

Tangible miniature world. (via the Anderson Valley Advertiser)

A pleasant pling every time they find a planet. (via NagOnTheLake)

Are you ashamed of your skinny body? I tried to solve this problem with malt balls and failed miserably.  Perhaps ironized yeast /is/ the ticket to a shapely figure, and has been all along. Hmm.

That! (via Fark)

The Cartwheel Galaxy. Blue took the buckboard into town hours ago. Ain’t it gettin’ time fer you ranch hands to go rescue him again? (I don’t know why they let Blue ever take the buckboard anywhere. He got captured more often than the Doctor’s companions and Tonto combined.

When the tech gets out ahead of you just the right amount. Only a little ahead, so you’re amused and not frightened out of your wits. More “Oh! Look at what this does!” and less “AAAAGH! WTF!”

Free electricity.

This is the world now. Everything is like this. Except you can’t just sit on the grass there because the grass is like that too. And the sidewalk. Hidden spikes and obstacles and responsibilities to pay someone in return for being allowed to simply live, breathe, occupy volume, sit down…

“Dogs and cats will lie down together. Rivers of menstrual fluid will run backwards. This is the end, my only friend, the end, of all our elaborate plans, the end, of everything that stands, the end…” (via Fark)

Ze Frank’s latest.

Randy Rainbow’s latest.

“U is for Undine, pursuing Ulysses and Umberto, who flee her damp, death-dealing kisses.” (via NagOnTheLake)

Percussive maintenance.

A train runs through it. For a short while in 1979 I lived in a college in Iowa that was like this, but with a mile of freight cars pulled by diesel engines with horns that shook the dorm windows. I liked it. I should have stayed there. I don’t know why I didn’t.

A classy little jernt. In a repurposed trolley car. (via Fark)

Your childhood ruined. (And scroll down.) (via BoingBoing)

And the Book of Saint Albans. (via NagOnTheLake)

From → Uncategorized

  1. Muchisimas grassyass for the linkoids. Again.

  2. I had a little time to click on some of your links today, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Thanks for including one of mine!

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