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Armistice Day (or) The Supremacy of Uruguay.

      “This was the thought that was in his head: If it unhinged me to hear such a soft crooning sound slightly amplified, what might it not do to me to hear a far greater sound greatlier amplified?”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-11-11) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option and isn’t surrounded by confusing flashing ads.

And  here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for you while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

A tap-dance routine that includes the dancer juggle-trading drumsticks with the drummer in a way that might dislocate your jaw in surprise and delight. Keep a hand on that; be careful.

She’s like a broken doll being flung around by a big crazy invisible child. Maybe it’s about America.

Or maybe this is.

Or this.

The infinite farm.

Everyone says I love you.

Kiss tilt.

That’s a hell of an act. Whatta ya call that act?

With tongue.

If all the ice melted.

A bigger picture of Earth.

A bigger picture for us.

A picture for next summer.

Mann verstopft auspuff. (Mann bekommt abgase ins gesicht.)

Phenomena over and under the earth.

Spooning Mars.

“And we’ve anthropomorphized aliens ever since.”

Real-time facial enactment.

“Maybe intelligence is not that difficult.”

…But there’s still a difference between 1. creeping toward food that part of you has already found and 2. building, launching, orbiting, deorbiting and landing a spaceship and then also having a sense of humor about it. There are degrees of intelligence.

Now it’s dark.

Betty Boop – Mysterious Mose.

14 accents.

Bridge club.

A running list of the sewage from a burst pipe.

Mental health resources to help with the post-election funk.

El Grafico: /FUUUUUCK!/

Speaking of which:

Welcome, foolish mortals.

Knit. It’s a bike wheel rim, some bent wire and 1500 meters of thread.

There were words all along.

Lincoln Fist Axe Warrior.

If not now, Venn?

Next thing you’re gonna tell me is, she was /never/ confused about math.

Hayhoe Peripherals. Gould Semiconductor.

For airplane fans. Slideshow and article.

Miyazaki’s last Studio Ghibli film. About the life of the designer of the Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter plane.

Steady. Steady…

Two cars, both alike in dignity (and make and model and name) but made in two different factories, crash precisely into each other. One dummy driver is mangled and killed, the other figuratively walks away shaken but unharmed. The difference is /safety standards/.

The infernal cauldron.

And Phantom Ride.

A little post-election music.

Late Saturday night (10pm – midnight) I went to the KNYO storefront to try to solve the problem of electrical thumping you can hear in the quiet parts of the Memo written-word show I did the night before. The problem resisted duplication, try as I might to make things go wrong again in order to solve it, but before I went home and, while I connected and disconnected things and tried out various configurations of this and that, I played a two-hour set of mostly random music from my music library. It turned out to be about dogs and boats and creepy relationships. (For example: Sit On My Lap and Call Me Daddy.) If you’d like to hear that music, let me know and I’ll make it available.

And just tonight, after switching out internet services at Juanita’s, I tried out the new service by playing a somewhat less random post-election set of music on KNYO from midnight to 1am (technically Wednesday). Here is that.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, on this other page, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option and isn’t surrounded by confusing flashing ads.

If you’d like to have your own airtime on 107.7fm KNYO Fort Bragg to do whatever sort of show seems most like your thing, contact Bob Young via and say so. He’ll show you how to use the equipment and he’ll put you on the schedule. It’s that easy.

Anyway,  here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for you while putting shows together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

A 1940s tap-dance routine that includes Eleanor Powell juggle-trading drumsticks with drummer Buddy Rich in a way that might dislocate your jaw from surprise and delight. Prop your thumb under your chin to protect against that.

A modern-day dance routine. I’m not sure what it’s meant to convey, but the dancer is like a broken doll being dragged and flung about and shaken by a giant invisible crazy child.

And beset on all sides by an army of determined snakes, this baby iguana displays the cool moxie of a much older iguana. /Run, Forrest, run./


Meet me under the giant fiberglass iguana that guards the entrance to the Berlin aquarium. Bring the negatives.

      “I want to give you a piece of advice: wear an eye-patch. Wear an eye-patch, Bret.” -David Bowie in Bret’s dream

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-11-04) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option and isn’t surrounded by confusing flashing ads.

A vast amount of information, some goofy, some useful, mostly both. Molly dropped off a bag of cheese and apples and grapes, left over from First Friday, thank you very much. Derek came by. Doctor Spencer. On my way in, walking to the door, I made eye contact with the big dog one of the people talking in front of the bar had on a long string, and the dog, maintaining eye contact, lifted his leg and pissed on the radio station. “Really?” I said. The people looked at me past the steadily pissing dog, not noticing at all, because why should they? Dogs look at dogs. People look at people. That’s America.

I read the second part of Scott Peterson’s story /Cowboy School/ starting at 11:45. That’s 165 minutes into the show, in case you want to head straight there. There’s a fine letter to the editor of the AVA by Scott Croghan. Poetry, math, philosophy, science, ancient medical history, tragicomic disaster news. A fine show, even though there’s faint motorboating going on in the recording all the time the main microphone was up. I didn’t notice it until just now. That’s the faint thumping sound you’ll hear throughout. Juanita’s away at her project until Sunday; I have an extra night before I go to her, so I’ll go to the radio station tonight about 10 or 11 to try to duplicate the electrical problem and solve it. It’s probably the little mic pre-amp. Maybe while I’m there I’ll play a set of music.

Speaking of which, there are still some airtime slots open at KNYO. If you’ve ever wanted to do a radio show, contact Bob Young through the station’s website and say so. He’ll show you how to use the equipment and you’ll be on the air before you’re even ready. That’s the right way. Seneca (or Mark Twain, or Richard Feynman, somebody like that) said, “If we wait till we’re ready we’ll /never/ start.” Boldly burst forth. What could happen? /”Wear an eye-patch, Bret.”/

And don’t forget to vote this coming week. Not that it should matter to you, but once again my own preferences are almost identical to the Anderson Valley Advertiser’s voter’s guide. I said, almost.

Anyway,  here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for you while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

Here’s a cute little dog tapdancing with hareem-panted Eleanor Powell in 1953. Everyone was on amphetamines in those days. That’s what killed Carmen Miranda and nearly killed Judy Garland. My mother sent me to tapdancing school when I was five, and it’s stood me in good stead. Posture is key to balance. Imagine holding yourself up with a rubber band attached to the middle of the top of your head.

Radio-controlled helicopter expertly controlled to mimic a gigantic wasp.

The nearest thing to that with a person inside, so far. (Except for that Russian woman I showed you last year– that I can’t find right now, so.

No, wait. There she is.

A very short film about a couple of homeless people.

Best of luck with the wall.

A great idea, an ingenious product, but I’ll bet it costs way more than the full-size 66-key thrift-store Casio keyboard I’ll be hot-gluing to /my/ front door.

Machine-learning computer-generated clickbait.

A hell of a way to run a ferry. No tip for you guys.

A job for Super She-ro.

How NORAD worked.

It’s not just that anger is crazy and crazy is scary, it’s –look how much bigger this dreadful creature is than the little people around it. It’s a giant chest-freckled rage-monster with Trump hair.

Pertectin’ the red white and blue. Gawd bless them Redneck Avinjers.

The return of the thing that ate America’s brain.

My grandmother used to say, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” And in 58 years next week, I never have. Oh.

You might recall how last year I told you Donald Trump is a cross between Eric Cartman from South Park and Biff from Back to the Future.

It might so easily have gone another way.

“To fly is everything.”

I found out about Amy Schumer kinda late. This was my introduction to Amy Schumer.–IJe7gFmk5dt75EGVLzJd&index=1

Which tube will you choose? Which tube’s advocate inspires you with more confidence? The man on the right looks like a slightly wider version of novelty/protest singer Roy Zimmerman, so /I’m/ going with the tube on the right.

A 6000-year-old Sumerian star map. You might have seen something like this in /Prometheus/, the prequel to /Alien/.

And how you will die. Scroll down and enjoy. (If it doesn’t churn and flash and produce results, turn off some of your browser’s protection against fun.)

All the flavors of malarkey. An annotated history. (Halloween, part 2 of 2)

      “Every society invents the failed utopia it deserves.” –John Tresch

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-10-28) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for you while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

How we get Yosegi-zaiku marquetry.

A watershed moment.

The last great spectacular flight in early aviation. 1933. Men flew two (2) open-cockpit biplanes over Mount Everest (!), taking large-format pictures of each other. One man’s oxygen mask hose fell apart and he noticed that he was starting to die so he taped it back together with his handkerchief.

Digitally stabilized downhill mountain bike run.

How we get perfect little springs.

Two ways to get rid of wasps and yellowjackets without using chemicals, sprays or poisons. “The ticking sounds are when a wasp flies into the spinning wire.” Question: Why /do/ they fly into the wire? Answer: The smart ones don’t. But they have no Borg adaptation skills to deal with the shop-vac-full-of-soapy-water method.

Time-lapse shots of ants eating different foods, set to random stock music.

Fancy people-food made of insects and rotten fruit juice.

The ancient South American Quimbaya fastened their ponchos with tiny spacecraft.

A little Wonder Woman goes a long way.

Oddly familiar, this meme.

/Petrov, Yelyena and Me/ from Flight of the Conchords.

In 1998 Syd Garon and Rodney Ascher animated the Jack Chick tract /Somebody Goofed/.

A wise bass player once told me, “Electronic music is for people who don’t know how to play music.” And now also for ducks.

An eternally shimmering shard.

Sixth one down: Ayn Rand in a candle-holder costume.

Don’t be selfish.

Scary girl. (You’ll recognize Scary Girl’s mother as the actress who played the demonic Consolidated Lenstrex rep in /Slings and Arrows/.)

Proofreaders’ marks.

My favorite is the melty slobberlog.

Maps that explain English.

Bad Lip Reading project Presidential Poetry Slam. (Molly Bee sent me the link.)

Wait! What? /Bleurgh!/ Oh.

I like it where Hannity says, “You were robbed.”

You’re so nice to talk to, Mr. Neutral.

Rules for rulers. How everything works. (20 min.)

Winner of kindergarten parking lot design contest. Extra points for the neat wiring.

Old-fashioned hand-drawn cell animation to Hall of the Mountain King.

It’s so hard for autistic people, why make it harder by being an asshole to them.

“Vagina gonna take da stage, ’cause Vagina got a lot to say.”

Okay, whatever, yeah, fine.

Give a mouse a cookie.

Another impressive civilian rocket project. Skip ahead to about 2:50 for the rocket’s point of view.

It’s just the gas.

Worthy rerun: every TED talk in a nutshell.

And look at what they just found! Dozens of mysterious ancient ships from the Byzantine empire that have been in the dark at the bottom of the Black Sea all this time, perfectly preserved (except for the damage that caused them to be down there in the first place) because of the “lack of oxygen in the Black Sea below 150 metres”. Dissolved oxygen, they mean. They know you know that water is made of hydrogen and oxygen and homeopathic memory.

Let’s get this nightmare started, shall we? (Halloween, part 1 of 2)

      “Marchons, marchons! Qu’un sang impur abreuve nos sillons!”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-10-21) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, which you might like better because it offers an instant-play option.

Seven hours of quality edutainment, in part of which Doctor Donovan Spencer stopped by to demonstrate his remarkable new phone and its, shall we say, /specialized/ attachments, and Stuart Cohen played a few of his new songs. At the end I read Edgar Allen Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado, and it occurred to me that, since I read it last years ago, the central idea and horror of it has been done and done and done again so many times in the flawed-superhero stories I like so much, that the effect on me has been somewhat muted. Remember how in /Torchwood/ Jack, who can’t die, or rather can’t stay dead, is taken back in time 2000 years and buried fifteen feet deep, to awake renewed (but still pressed flat in earth, with his mouth full of dirt and his lungs unable to expand) and die again over and over and over until being detected and freed in 1912? And in one episode he’s explosively disassembled so all that’s left is, I think, part of his head, and his head is imprisoned. And in /X-Men/ Wolverine is repeatedly trapped in a similar situation (at one point impaled and then twisted up in rebar and concrete and sunk in the river) and his super healing power just keeps starting him up again. Things like that. So one ordinary man being walled up in a niche in a tunnel and dying once and getting it over with doesn’t give the same chill anymore. Hmm.

And instead of Boston Blackie I played an episode of The Weird Circle done entirely with real Scottish actors, where every time anyone says the arr sound, even the whispering Mysterious Bride of the title of the show, it vibrates and rolls around for a while like a baseball on a bodhran. I’ve never been able to learn to make that rolling arr sound, and now that thanks to Dr. Mattson’s dental tools I can finally say the letter ess without waking up all the dogs in the neighborhood I suppose I’ll have to renew my efforts in this other direction. Arr. Arr… Arr… Dammit.

Anyway, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for you while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right:

There are no good boys.

Nurse, fetch me… the /apparatus/.


Sigh. Squinch eyes shut. Pinch bridge of nose. Because it’s real.

A grammar lesson with animated text.

The old hokum bucket.

Further creepy clowns of yesteryear.

“Happy birthday, Nate. Love, Mom and Pop.”

Juanita’s pet bird Melody whistling Row Your Boat in 2007.

What the probe saw.

See? Spirituality is bunk. Or /hokum/, if you prefer that term.

Why not to let a chiropractor yank your head loose.

Studio Ghibli film characters cut out of their films and inserted into real-life places.

There’s a wild hog in the woods.

Puppet drummer.

I haven’t seen any of this famous show. I’m good, as they say, to just see John Cleese talk about it for four minutes.

Death and hatred to mankind, poisoning their brainwashed minds.

Guy jumps over 11-foot-high bar on a pogo stick.

3-stage model rocket. Slo-mo camera in both top stages. Then views from ground. Pretty impressive. A fully realized project.

Puts lead in your pencil.

How to do three tricks with a Sharpie.

How music works.

They do not make them like they used to.

And equality versus equity.


The Susquehanna Hat Company routine.

      “We are all stardust.” Neil deGrasse Tyson points at me. “Except you.” Startled, I drop my beer can, it rolls to the front of the auditorium. –Vineyille

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-10-14) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or, thanks to Hank Sims of Lost Coast Outpost, you can get it this other way, which you might like better, because it offers an instant-play option.

Or you can subscribe to the podcast by plugging this URL into your podcast app: (unless you use iTunes for podcasts, in which case currently you’re out of luck on that score).

During last night’s show, done by live remote from Juanita’s apartment, there were several web connectivity events that interrupted the stream from my portable studio to the transmitter. When that happens I see it on a running graph on the monitor just above and to the left of my reading easel, and the audio streaming software shows an alert message and keeps trying to solve it until it connects properly and says /On Air/ again. During a problem like that I put on some music and wait. A couple of times the problem persisted and I had to reset my modem. Here’s a puzzler: just before the show there was no dialtone on Juanita’s Sonic fusion line, but there was still DSL internet access, which is weird, and when Scott Peterson phoned to talk about his latest article in the Anderson Valley Advertiser, the dead phone surprised me by ringing (!), the internet connection was severed, reestablished itself, I talked with Scott, hung up, checked, and there was a dial tone after that, so, ya know, what the hell?

There had been a few problems two weeks ago, and the Sonic tech came out by appointment this last Tuesday and checked things over and seemed to have put it all right, but apparently this thing will require another service call and more fussing. To be fair, the Comcast cable internet service to this place, that we had before Sonic DSL, was even less reliable and twice as expensive.

Here’s the connectivity graph as it looked when I signed off. (By that point the first hour of the show has traveled off the left side of the graph and so you don’t see where the blue line nosedove just before nine, clipping the end of a heartbreaking Moth story.)


The blue line indicates the buffer level in the computer at the other end, in the radio transmitter shack. Everywhere that line goes down into the yellow warning bar, KNYO listeners in Fort Bragg (CA) hear the sound stutter and cut in and out, and if it stays there for awhile the computer replaces the unreliable signal with random music from the station’s library. Eventually a good connection is reestablished and my voice or whatever music I’m playing comes back on the air.

The recording of the show is always made where I am sitting and reading aloud, so it’s uninterrupted and sounds pretty good. Try it out.

Anyway, besides all that, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside for you while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right. Enough for at least a whole rainy day:

A concentration of the sort of thinking that puts childish political and religious squabbles (and technical glitches) in perspective.

Rerun: the captivating Whitney music box. Try the other variations, too, besides the default. I like the stereo ones (with headphones) and the hand-cranked one best.

The Susquehanna Hat Company routine.

Och, the puir wee lad.

What analogy?

That explains it.

Rerun: This land is mine. God gave this land to me.

Rerun: What Mormons believe.

The over-commercialization of Halloween is a crying shame. They don’t even sing the old songs anymore.

The trailer for a movie about horrible potatoes and how they wreck a young lady’s whole life.

Chip card.

Shake your elbow. Yeah. That’s it. Shake it all around.

“Foaming or fizzing urine could indicate excess protein in diet or a kidney problem. See a doctor if foaming happens all the time.” Just think about that for a moment: foaming and fizzing?

“Cesium also behaves similarly on the napkin.”

Water, ethyl alcohol and a few molecules of color and flavor. The graphic is kind of a periodic table of piss. There are even foaming and fizzing kinds of this stuff.

Just stop drinking.

Shit job.

Ostrich von Nipple – So Do We.

Heavy metal played without the guitar distortion reveals it to be simplistic noodly surf music.

The embryo of the bat.

You know that screaming phone-modem sound that fax machines (some people still use them) use to transmit a picture? Here’s the result of a fax machine dialing a wrong number whose voice mail automatically does speech-to-text. True story.

“I just can’t, with her, anymore. Too much preaching.”

“I spent a few hours and read the entire Scientology Handbook. It gave me a sense of knowingness I’ve never had before.”

“Corporal punishment has been linked with a range of unintended negative outcomes, including higher rates of mental health problems, a more negative parent-child relationship, lower cognitive ability and academic achievement, and higher risk for future physical abuse.”

How to talk Minnesotan. (1993. 27 min.)

The latest installment of the Prose Edda for Bostonians, by Rowdy Geirsson.

Squeamish Cyclops.

“Ha ha ha! Mine is an evil laugh. Now, die!” “AAAAH! Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

Never bring a gun to a pigfight. He’ll slash at you with the pig and knock the outer cover off your right-hand boob.

Emotional movie moments.

“By Grabthar’s Hammer, By the Suns of Warvan, you shall be avenged!”

The heat was hot and the ground was dry and the air was full of sound.

Eruptions, earthquakes and emissions.

An eight-year-old comedy sketch, but still timely– except that in 2016 not even the so-called moderator has a clue anymore.


“So many arguments, especially on a place like Twitter, are almost content-neutral. You can swap one argument out for another and the context is almost irrelevant.” So no-one can tell the difference between a pissy-angry random-word-shuffling robot and a flesh and blood pissy-angry right-wing twat. This knocks the Turing test into a cocked hat.

The making of Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. (Press /shuffle/ to shuffle through the years.)

He said sup.

Suffer from selfie nose? Now there’s a pill for that.

Glow wall.

Golf ball.


Particle accelerators

Julia Sweeney: Letting go of God.

Animated time-map of the big five.

The same thing but much smaller.

The seven times Christopher Hitchens nailed it.

The story of the remarkable Curta calculator.

Thufferin’ thuccotash.

And the full-lenth Mondo Mod.

One (1) bloody Aztec obsidian-razor-encrusted cricket bat. (With revolving clockwork eyes and extra string.)

      “During the hot spell in July, 1893, T.P. O’Connor called Joseph Chamberlain a Judas and a brawl broke out. One could see the teeth set, the eyes flashing, faces aflame with wrath and a thicket of closed fists beating about in wild confusion.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-10-07) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or  you can get it this other way, which seems to work better for most people.

Or you can subscribe to the podcast by plugging this URL into your podcast app: and let it manage automatically just getting shows to you (unless you use iTunes, in which case you can only get podcasts through the iTunes Store and not via a direct URL.

I hurt my finger, not too badly, but it’s a little awkward to type with a ball of bandages on the end of it, so I’ll just tell you that several people showed up over the course of the night –Ron Ortman, for example, who was still at the station taking down his ceremonial mask show, and sat down to talk about masks for a bit, and bacon and pancakes and tigers somehow became an issue. Doctor Donovan Spencer, a dead ringer for Steven Spielberg, came in around midnight to discuss the advisability of letting all candidates for office have the same fair access to speak to the electorate; he comprehensively debunked the notion that Gary Johnson is an ignorant imbecile with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. And, oh, right, Molly B delivered a plate of cinnamon apple slices and ate one close to the microphone. I understand that’s considered risque and tittilating in some circles. Kay Rudin came and told a story of firearms, carnage and gardening vengeance. If you know of any other white woman who has struck a live gopher on the nose twice with the same carrot, get in touch with the Guinness people, because otherwise I think they’re going to accept the record.

What with the finger and all, I forgot to bring the thumb drive that had all the music I’d collected to go with specific material, and that includes leaving behind the Boston Blackie episode for the end of the show, so I improvised and played some interesting music from earlier shows, and instead of Boston Blackie there’s a wonderful parody of RadioLab where a couple of women with British accents explore the scientific, social, sexual and cultural ramifications of human women laying eggs instead of the way it really goes, with wet, loud, smelly, germ-carrying, inconvenient babies being bypassed, so they don’t hatch until they’re toddlers and can talk and use a toilet and aren’t nearly so much of a hassle. I think you’ll learn something.

And besides all that, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Worst cat rescue in all of Russia.

A comically phrenetic Klein bottle distributor. A Klein bottle is a three-dimensional representation of a four-dimensional thing, and this man’s robot-managed inventory of them occupies the crawlspace under his house.

“At a dinner party with their wives, NASA scientist Dr. Keith Ritchie (Tony Huston) reveals to his colleague Dr. Curt Taylor (John Agar) that he has secretly been in communication with a three-eyed, bat-winged alien from Venus named Zontar who he claims is coming to Earth to solve all of the world’s problems. However, as soon as Zontar arrives on Earth via a fallen laser satellite it quickly becomes obvious that the skeletal black creature has a hidden agenda as it begins causing local power outages that stops telephones, automobiles and even running water from working and it starts taking control of people’s minds using flying lobster-like injecto-pods that sprout from its wings. Only after his wife is killed does Ritchie finally realize that Zontar has come not as a savior but as a conqueror, and he goes to confront the hideous alien in the sulfur-spring-heated cave that it has made its secret base.”

10 Reasons 10. It’s like 99 Theses 99, except about this other thing.

Synchronized indoor skydiving.

Olga Podluzhnaya Uutai from Sakha on /Yakutia’s Got Talent/).



Steve Burns describes his fameishness, and how it got him a date with a tall, giant-fake-breasted Playboy model who seemed nice at first but abused the restaurant staff and, so, no.


If antidepressant medicine ads were honest.

I think the problem here is the cops think they’re playing a video game right up to the point where they’ve killed the man with twelve (12) rhythmic drumbeat shots, like this: BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! That’s after they chased him around with their cruiser, trying to run him over, but he was too quick for them and jumped out of the way, so what choice did they have?

Normal growth of teeth.

X-rays of things people somehow got stuck up their butt.

You know how in Doctor Who every once in awhile the Doctor calls something a fixed point in time that he can do nothing about? This is an explanation for something like that.

Feed the right wolf.

      “When there’s nothing, you can do everything.” –Shimon Peres

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-30) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Or you can get it this other way, if that looks too hard (the advantage here is, it has a play button so you can just play it right away without waiting) (thanks again, Hank Sims, for setting this up):

Or you can subscribe to the podcast by plugging this URL into your podcast app: and let it manage automatically just getting shows to you (unless you use iTunes, in which case you can only get podcasts through the iTunes Store and not via a direct URL.

When I do the show from Juanita’s house, a small apartment with no sound-enclosed area, she usually listens to her own music with earbuds and works on her project, but when she was getting ready for bed she heard a part of this show where I was talking briefly about something particularly horrible to her, and it stuck in her mind and upset her. She went to sleep and had a bad dream and woke up crying. I put on Boston Blackie early, read the title story and signed off. I’ll have to figure out some way to solve this so I can both do what I need to do about the show and not make her unhappy. Maybe do the show from an all-night coffee shop up the street. I thought of that awhile ago; it may be time to try it. Or… do it in the bathroom? No. But why not? There’s plenty of light. There’s a counter. There’s a chair.

I’ll be in Fort Bragg for the show next week, so there’s two weeks to come up with a plan. Which means I’ll wait till the last possible instant and then spring into calamitous action, and I hope you’ll be attending then to appreciate the very midst of what promises to be a thrilling train de-and-re-railment. And of course, before that, you can show up in person on First Friday at the KNYO storefront and participate, if you like. Maybe offer a suggestion or two; you’re as smart as I am, and probably /emotionally/ smarter.

Oh, look! Here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Trusssssst in me.

Coral’s alluring undulations.

The Staten Island Ferry disaster.

“Whenever I see a picture of the moon where the points go more than halfway around, I assume it’s being eclipsed by one of those /Independence Day/ ships and interpret the rest of the image in light of that.”

“With TP (Thoughs & Prayers app), screaming into the void has never been easier, or better for you ego.”

So let me get this straight: the program has already wasted $700 billion –that’s seven times as many dollars as there are stars in our galaxy; the planes can’t fly in the rain or at night, they suffocate pilots, and after extensive engineering reviews and several redesigns and upgrades they just burst into flames standing still if the wind is blowing into their butt. (I am not making that up.) And nobody’s fired in disgrace, and no supplier or builder is penalized nor sold off to get even a penny on the dollar of that money back, and we’re still somehow committed to pay another trillion dollars over the next 15 years to make a bunch more of these flammable stupid paperweight/meteors, not to mention those new billion-dollar battleships that can’t seem to get fifty nautical miles out of port without failing utterly and needing to be towed back to port with tugboats, when we could be mining the asteroids with that money and building glorious chandelier-like cities in space, or housing, college-educating and providing primary medical care to every poor person on the continent.

A video about shivery/creepy recorded sounds of war. My ears really perked up when it came to the propeller-driven terror whistles attached to German dive-bombers, because they used that same sound in the Stargate: Atlantis series for Wraith darts, and I didn’t know that until now. I heard it, and went, /That’s a Wraith dart./

Hamilton signed.

Female scientists say sex harrassment is no longer a problem.

Really bad cops use official database to stalk and abuse.

Sexual harrassment in the old days.

They don’t like it. And that’s okay. (They sleep all night and they work all day.)

Sexy vampires.

Apparently we like looking at things other people are looking at. Science figured that out.

The important thing is to see a medical professional if you’re concerned about your pee color or smell.


We’re almost there.

Patience. A kind of clock.

David Skazaly’s GIFs.

I used to see this sort of thing all the time when we lived in Fresno, during the American war in Vietnam.

This is finally the turning point in the election.

What a classy guy. Right? Am I right?

300 free art books. At least.

How we get ice cream sandwiches.

“Feelin’ better already.”

White lipstick, which I have to admit looks pretty good with a shimmery snake suit.

A new way to read without ever cracking a book.

Further lovely aerial footage. Fucked up the planet beyond all repair, have we? It doesn’t look like that from up here.

These are the 216 web safe colors. Be web safe.

Why are you following me?

A clever if dastardly trick. It reminds me of /The Message/ episode of /Firefly/, when Mal and Inara are walking through a shop bazaar in a skyplex and Mal, without breaking the conversation nor his step, matter-of-factly grabs a passing urchin up by the collar, holds his hand out for the moneybag the urchin has just lifted from his pocket, receives it and continues on. Except the woman in the photo is not Mal, and and the urchins are a slick team who do this all day. It’s their job.

The myth of black on black crime.

More quiet.

“What are you doing, Abu Hajaar! That is a rocket for people! Give me a rocket for vehicles! Hurry! Hurry!” “Raise it up! Shoot!” [PHOOMPH!] “Okay, that was good, but you roasted us too!”

Jazz with the glove box.

Click and drag across the field of blocks.

Drag your image file onto the page and glitchify it.

Pen pineapple apple pen. (Mimed to by various Japanese children.)

Player names.

“Oh. It’s about animals now. I see.” “Ach, I can’t stand rats!” “These people crazy.” “That was /brutal/ but very creative.” Old people react to Die Antwoord.

And one good turn deserves another. Awww.


      “Council meeting to consider placing traffic lights at the corner of Slough of Despond Blvd and Vo-dodio-do Way. Bring your harrowing accident stories. We need this. The children need this.” –G.K. Chesterton

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-23) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

You can still get it that way if that’s been working for you. But this is the future and so there’s another way. Hank Sims, publisher of Lost Coast Outpost, offered to set me up with a podcast. I told him about the complaints I’d been getting because of difficulties some people have with downloading shows via MediaFire, which is visually busy with flashing ads and numerous not-the-right-one download buttons, and he said, no problem, he’d take care of it. I asked him what he needed me to do to help, and the next email I got from him said, basically, /You don’t have to do anything but what you’re already doing. Just continue to send your shows to MediaFire as you’ve been and I’ll take it from there./ And half an hour later he wrote:

Now there is a Memo of the Air podcast feed here:

People who have podcast apps can plug that URL into their app, and they can download Memo of the Air that way, if they so choose. Unless they use iTunes, in which case they can only get their podcasts through the iTunes Store and not via a direct URL, and I’m not dealing with that, because it’s too hard.

Also, there is a hidden page on the Outpost that contains direct links to downloads of episodes. This could be easier for your people who have trouble downloading from Mediafire. It’s here:

So –sorry, Marco here again– if you want to hear the show(s), and you like the old way, continue as you were. Or get the podcast. Or if you want to directly download a show (or click on a Play button and just play it), try the direct way Hank offers.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this jiffy service and I truly appreciate it. Carry on, people, all watched over by machines of loving grace programmed by generous, competent souls like Hank Sims, to whom my hat is not only off but flung into the air and hanging for a flag atop the gleaming radio antenna of a (figurative) heaven that fairly admits all dogs, not just certificated service dogs. Even nervous ratlike teacup dogs that in life rode everywhere in their smoky-voiced mistresses’ shoulder bag, including into the grocery store in the baby seat of the cart. /That/ heaven.

Besides, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Half people are people too.

The metallophon. It’s a new Russian-invented musical instrument made out of guns and tuned metal plates.

This reminds me of something Eddie Murphy once said: “In America if you have money or a gun you can eat 24 hours a day.”

Donald Trump protected from demons by hands of faith. “We ax you God to bless him! and keep him safe! Thank y’all for lettin’ me go on a little bit longer. Bless you all!”

On the one hand, oops, funny. But on the other, what about the driver? The cameraphone guys are all, /Ho ho ho,/ but there’s a man in the the cab of that truck! Why is nobody running and diving in to help?

Once upon a time they sang the vodio-do, but that was long ago.

Mercury in retrograde explained without astrology. Because the sun, planets and moons are not gods and goddesses in command of our destiny, they’re distant balls of rock and/or ice and or gas and they’re a big clock, a clock that /doesn’t/ go, “The big planet’s on the ten and the little planet’s on the two, so it’s time for people who were born when the medium size planet was on the six and that moon there was on the nine to be wary in dealing with a friend.” And they don’t mysteriously turn around and go backward and then turn around and go forward again, because that would be impossible.

“But wouldn’t we realize that something was wrong?”

I understand this because I myself am inordinately interested in watches (and reading glasses). Last week, for the second time in five years, I lost a perfectly good seven dollar Walmart watch, bought another one, and then found the missing one. Now I have three.

Academic research presented in comix form.

How to undress in front of your husband.

I mean, see? See what happens when you try to hurt somebody? Let this be a lesson to you. And how about that t-shirt? Is that a print? Or– what kind of job paints up your shirt like that?

“This is a white man’s neighborhood. Japs keep moving.” America.

There ya go. Decent wi-fi anywhere there’s electricity, even out the ridge roads. Done. (Soon.)

Anti-science conspiracy theorists are always going on about the terrible consequences of editing and transforming life, but really it’ll be more like this:

You see how when the well-dressed woman isn’t satisfied with the surprisingly vicious dachshund, clearly a bad result of the technology, she puts it back through and gets a better result. It’s like with money. I just read that one pound of U.S. dimes, quarters, and half dollars, /in any combination/, is worth $20. Smart people figure out how do to things like that, and we all benefit. To be consistent, being against every little innovation means living outdoors in the sleet, without fitted clothing or hot running water or a flush toilet or a phone or radio or written language or really any art supplies at all. Not even a teepee or a yurt or shoes or a basket. Just roots and berries (in season) and chewing on a carrion animal’s raw heart, whole, all morning and all afternoon (when you’re lucky enough to come across one) because no atlatl, no knife, no fire, no cooking, and all dominated by the biggest guy who tells the most terrifying story about how weather comes from angry gods fighting on top of a mountain. Is that what you people want? Because I don’t.

I mean, look, case in point: This person has a house with at least a refrigerator, a gas oven and an internet camera phone (and another camera, the one we’re seeing through), she’s living and participating in a society that includes all the technological and scientific underpinnings and supply chains and educational level necessessary for these things to exist /and be available to just anybody/, and she believes that a convection vapor pattern on pyrex is literally the Germanic Caucasian son of the creator of ten-to-the-33rd-power cubic light-years of observable universe, come to show her a sign, um, of something– I don’t know, /Im here in UR kitchen, cookn UR foodz/, or /keep prayin’, momma/, or whatever.

And a song composed by artificial intelligence in the style of the Beatles.



I stand for motherhood, America, and a hot lunch for orphans.

      “Take off your hat, sir, Betsy Ross’ flag is passing. Do you see it on the bridge at Waterloo ‘neath the great triumphal arch? If you see an eagle trampling through the grapes of wrath, stand up and march, march, march!” -Jerry Herman

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-16) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

Live remote from Juanita’s apartment this time so, as usual when that’s the case, at the beginning I’m talking in a normal, Norman-Rockwell-lunch-counter-appropriate tone of voice and gradually, over the course of almost seven hours, I lean closer, ever closer to the microphone’s foam rubber clown nose and speak quieter and more carefully, though equally loudly via machine because of the volume knob, until near the end I’m whispering insistently directly into the center of your head, improving every facet of your being with vital information /they/ don’t want you to know, rather /insinuating/ past their and your stodgy defenses to lubricate the very heart of humanity’s vital levers and wires and spiritual plumbing. No side effects. No hangover. You’re welcome.

Before the show I almost always play a little something to make sure everything’s getting all the way from wherever I am to the transmitter, and this time it was a brilliant though slightly crunchy-sounding twenty-minute essay on intellectual freedom (by ThereminTrees, titled /Punishing Doubt/). Twenty minutes well spent.  Also, the Boston Blackie episode at the very end of the night is a gem.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I set aside while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Current weather information: wind speed and direction, temperature, pressure, clouds, rain amounts, snow cover, everything, for everywhere on Earth, all visualized in color and motion. An animated graph that lets you choose the parts of the information you want to see.;-125.3;4&l=temperature

“When man-made-climate-problem deniers say /The climate has changed before/, these are the kinds of changes they’re talking about.” (The rollover text: [After setting your car on fire] Listen, your car’s temperature has changed before.)

And that’s why Nietzsche is a stupid idiot, and Hegel is an indecipherable hack.

I agree. They’re the same movie.

Which Shakespeare play should I see?

Somebody besides Stephen Fry, this time, articulating why grammar snobs are wrong.

Before and after. Two pages. Safe for work /and/ the bathroom.

It seems like more than triple. Maybe I’m counting half-cycles.

It’s time once again for the big Muslim ant mill. What interests me is, in the modern world this only very rarely results in one of the top five most horrible trampling-to-death incidents of any given year. It’s just not a panic-driven occasion but well-practiced choreography. In short: These are professionals. Don’t try this at home, kids.

Here’s the explanation for when it’s actual ants doing it.

A photograph of the first national video game competition (the game being Space Invaders) (1980).

And a similar though modern-day event (game: League of Legends) (2014).

The world weather beauty competition. Dang, look at the /mammatus/ clouds on that one.

I get mine from the dollar store for a dollar each. Aren’t they cool? These are the clever ones, these are the Clark Kents, these are the best ones for reading in bed, these are the kind I sprinkle around everywhere I use a computer, these ones I keep at the electronics bench (and stack them for more magnification), these are with the motorized shop equipment (they fit under the safety goggles that I also got from the dollar store), these are the folding ones for in my pocket, etc. The reason they can make money selling glasses for a dollar at the dollar store is that they cost considerably less than a dollar to make /and/ ship /and/ hang on a rack /and/ pay a kid wearing black lipstick to slide over a scanner.

Vindshield viper. Vait for it.

Rivers and streams of Europe.

Eight miles per pixel, so the damage to the ring is about the size of California.

Another few dismaying examples of what we’re up against in getting us all finally up and out of the toilet bowl of fervid ignorance, superstition and wooly thinking before another cataclysmic war and/or dark age flushes the thing again.

Every sperm is sacred. (From the Monty Python film /The Meaning of Life/.)

Peter Serafinowitz’ /Sassy Trump/ project. Collect the whole set.

The evolution of bacteria.

“Whoa, dude, I know Ubuntu.”

‘Sup, peasants. I /boop/ you.

Hooray for titanic haughty young women in frilly underclothes /and/ spike heels! It’s about time.

The highest class of Rickroll. (Singer Gunhild Carling solos on trumpet, then soprano recorder, then trombone, then /bagpipes/, then trumpet again!)

The Marvel symphonic universe. (14 min.) (Explains what’s right and what’s wrong with movie music.)

Bleeee! Neenle-neenle-neenle! That’s onomatopoeia.

What it looked like from L.A. when we first began to dirty-bomb ourselves because it seemed like such a good idea for awhile.

This is what chemtrails people, 9/11 truthers, space alien conspiracists, GMO haters, antivaxxers, this-or-that-person-is-the-antichrist lunatics, and so on, all sound like to everyone but themselves and each other. It’s the same thing but it’s just about Adam Sandler. To be fair, I did see one Adam Sandler movie ever, /The Wedding Singer/, and I thought it was cute. Having sung for two weddings (before I became so cripplingly self-conscious that I can’t even imagine how I ever did that) I can say it’s a pretty accurate representation of the gig. My favorite part in the movie is where Adam Sandler and the bride-to-be (Drew Barrymore) are both engaged to other people but it’s obvious they really should be with each other, and Drew Barrymore suggests they just /kiss each other and get it out of their system/. See? Cute.

“To reach the best results, sometimes I used time lapse photography, making a picture every second automatically while I was nowhere around – this helped the models relax.”

The problem of a /tipping point/ isn’t that it tips, it’s all the systems precariously balanced on the way it was before. You can get ready, but something’s always going to go wrong and knock a bunch of other dominoes over with it. (This is kind of cringe-making– all those brittle hips and legs and arms and necks and so on.)

The science of ka-THUMP. “Is that cool, or what?” Yes. Yes it is.

How we get airports, or rather /an/ airport. During most of the century shown, here’s how you took a plane somewhere: you put some socks and shirts in a bag, paid at the counter for a ticket, waltzed nonchalantly right up into the airplane and sat down and lit a cigaret. Nowadays you have to stand in line for two hours, get strip-searched, they x-ray your private parts and your bag, and an airport is like a third-world country with low-rent army police everywhere watching for nervous sweat so they can escalate the experience in a back room with no windows. But the airplanes are the size of an apartment building, so that’s nice.

What even /is/ that? Is that a pizza?

The story behind the punk on the bus who wouldn’t shut /I Hate You/ off.

Covers of Eerie.

All about the ragdoll cat, including that they’re big; some of them get three times the size of a regular cat, though a lot of that is from stretching out when they go all ragdoll on you.

How to be perfectly unhappy.

“It completed me, and I really got that sense that I’m back.”


Where they landed.

And done!

Narcissisma, pride of Pomona, belle of Biloxi.

      “She got no bellybutton, too, no high-heel shoe.” –Don McLean

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-09) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

An unusually crowded night. Notty Bumbo (his real name) came and read a story and some poetry. Molly B brought pie and a doggerel paean to a redwood’s capacity to wreck your septic line. Stuart Cohen played guitar until his hand hurt. He sang his song about the big deal on 9/11, which was fifteen years ago tomorrow; in three years the trillion-dollar war(s) we started in response to that, on all the wrong people, will be old enough to join the Army. Scott Peterson called to talk about fracking under the sea off the coast of California. Much later on, an excited young man wandered in to inform me that /the door was open/; he sat at the guest mic and delivered a short fast poem about, um, kegs (I think) (possibly cakes), the bitches, and somebody’s grandmother, between whom he couldn’t decide which one to do, or to “do”. He must have resolved it, because a couple of hours later he stopped by again, this time to /shout out/, as they say, to all the bitches (see above), or possible from them, hard to tell. The radio station is next to the Tip Top bar, which also explains the occasional distant ejaculation of laughter or dismay, the giant motorcycles that sound like a string of M-80s going off, and the metronomically barking dog.

A busy show with a lot to recommend it. Also a lot of technical mistakes on my part that at the time made me cringe, but afterward, skimming the aircheck, I just find funny. Volume problems, mostly. And forgetting to turn a mic on (or off). Several people talking at once, sounding like the visual of the ocean liner stateroom scene in /A Night at the Opera/. But mostly it’s just a great deal of useful information, including an essay on why not to stop a suicide, a story about the interpersonal vicissitudes of stripping for a living, convict yoga (and medicinal ice cream, for meth hangover), the discovery of surprisingly complex space dust, the new dented-can store they’re going to put at the scenic corner of Highways 1 and 20, a few thoughtful angles on racism and bigotry, Kurt Vonnegut on kindness, George Carlin and Tom Waits on advertising, the 1960s Soviet /Eureka/, “clean eating” debunked, etc.  It’s a seven-and-a-half-hour show; it should take between twenty seconds and twenty minutes to download, depending on whether you live in Korea or rural U.S.

And, entirely aside of all that, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Deaf King Kong. A signed joke.

Why weddings are a total ripoff. (Also, science has shown that the more you pay for a wedding, the more likely it is that the marriage will end in divorce.)

Cell art.

An educational comic strip to explain Friday’s (Sept. 9) virtually massive prison strike.

There’s something familiar about those stock kids.

Lady muscles.

Artificial apophenia. Apophenia is apparently pareidolia on steroids.

A quick tour of Burning Man 2016.

How was Burning Man? /What a question./

Are Hispanics white?

Mario Paint for music.

A French 3D clitoris.

Contents of a typical ostrich’s stomach.

I understand that it looks hard, even impossible, but I’m gonna /show/ you how to do it.

Giving the wheat what-for.


A beautiful retro-design synthesizer.

A complicated sad dance. This is supposed to be about all those 102 people who were shot in that nightclub in Orlando.

“I /said./”

Not so good for the poor fish, but awww anyway.

All the ST TOS villains.

Idle rat penis, if you want to use /all/ the letters.

State of the art phenakistoscopes, 1833.

On the timeline, bracket the years you want to see photos taken between.

It’s the same chaotic dangerous unregulated fun every year and miraculously nobody ever gets hurt

Miss NASA wondered how your engines feel. So, here, they said, find out. Miss Body and Fender wondered what it said on the back of the sign they gave her. So –oh! Next she’ll scream to the others, “We have to get out of here! They’re going to cook and eat us!” Miss American Auto Club already knows; she has known all her life.

See? It’s always in the last place you look.

“…And trying to see the point of holding out for the second marshmallow.”

Virus trading cards.

No! Ahhh! Get down!

Donald Campbell when fate stepped in.

And Rhababer-Barbara-Bar.

And only I am escaped alone to tell thee.

      “Adulthood is like the vet, and we’re all dogs excited for the car ride until we realized where we’re going.” –Kangarudy

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-09-02) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Gene Wilder paused.

This lovely drone footage of Vietnam reminds me of Studio Ghibli anime.

An instrument made of sticks and wire, bent brad nails, a trash can lid and a cardboard box, played with fingers and a pencil by a man with tin bells on his ankle.

1 tapdancer, 1 hammered dulcimer. (TED, 10 min.)

A tango lullaby.

Thank you, but we’re looking for someone a little more flexible.

Impressive robot dance.

A travel company surveyed a bunch of different people for bigotry and found a fair amount of it. Then they showed them all the results of their DNA tests.

Each dot represents a hell ship.

Schlieren effect.

The illusion of transparent cloth, carved into marble. A human just like you or me saw this in his head, figured out how to do it, and did it with a hammer and a chisel.

A very old case of a salted battery.

Why not to tailgate.

How we get bicycles.

List of things that have frightened stressed police into madness.

Lefatshe La Botswana. Turkiye Cumhuriyeti. Suoman Tasavalta. Schweizerische Eidgenossenschaft. Mohron Ync.

Puppetmasters fight.

Puppets fight.

Hammer through mirror at 120,000 frames per second. Unexpected: Matrix shockwave.

Would you like to know the 313 secrets of Tarvu?

I love this. It’s like a cross between the Boom King song and Bret’s Angry Dance (in HBO’s Flight of the Conchords). This is the way I think most people feel, inside, stuck in meetings of any kind. I know /I/ do.

“Mickey Mouse is great on a t-shirt. But Bugs [Bunny] is who you want to be. Nobody wants to be Mickey Mouse.”

See her take ze pleasures from ze snake zat vunce codupted men.

Sex scenes. What is up with them?

Solid-coolant (rubber) refrigeration, a proof of concept.

Tongue tricks.

Time-lapse of frozen treats melting into a plate of sand.

Food of the future.




Not flying. (12 sec. between blast and sound means camera is 2.5 miles away, and the shockwave still shoves it.) (This is a disaster. There was a new satellite in that rocket that was meant to bring internet access to all of sub-Saharan Africa.) They call this sort of event a static fire anomaly.

Martial farts.

It shows why to sneeze into your elbow. The examined sneeze is entirely out of the mouth, where I like to sneeze through both my mouth and nose, to do what sneezing’s for in the first place (clear the throat /and/ nose). (Into a handkerchief, though, then wash hands with soap before handling anything public.) Sometimes I mismanage the nose/mouth pressure ratio and it stops up this or that ear; clearly none of this entire system is the result of any kind of intelligent design. In the future, precise machines, improving on nature, will sneeze for us and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.

Tim Curry laughing.


Heck, no, we’re not stoned. Why, do we look stoned?

Interesting whooshing and fhooming visualizations. This isn’t computer generated. It was made out of real, physical things, with video, of course, but using film techniques a hundred years old.

Hundreds of Soviet movies with English subtitles available to watch for free. I remember seeing some of these at the old Mendo Movies.

And thousands of antique children’s books, also free.

“You are my daughter.”

Okay, coffee break’s over. Start now.

The hairy-knuckled angels of our better nature.

      “Rocks and logs can bite like dogs but words will never hurt me.” –Valentine, in MirrorMask

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-26) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

A pretty fast, energetic show. I’m over the cold, and I was in Fort Bragg at the station for this one, so I could make as much noise as the material required to be made, rather more of a trombone than an alto recorder. A particularly interesting poetry section. The /real/ holy hand grenade. Devolution in brain size. Mothra as metaphor. Zoological bullying. Sex robot brothel future. Single-payer health care. The feminist vagenda. A particularly appealing approach to atheism. Further Koch Bros perfidy. A defense of the classic Disney villainix. The latest installment of Rob Schneider’s riveting /My Own Private Shock Corridor/. Etc.

At the beginning you’ll hear the very end of an Australian film for a rainy day in the high school gym, about various strategies for managing your monthly. There’s only about twenty seconds of that. I’m just telling you so you don’t think you got the wrong thing and turn it off. If you want to hear (and see) the whole film, here.

Also, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

If wishes were (freshwater) fishes.

Is it a meteorite or not? A flowchart for how to tell.

10 foods that only exist because of ancient genetic engineering.

Bollywood menstruation education film.

A tricky French date.

A time-lapse map of every nuclear explosion since 1945. That we know of.

Right there, Tyler. Just snip right there.

Death. Yeah, about that.


Nope. Nope, nope and nope.

Hal and Samantha.

Twitch-GIF-method 3D color photos of 1850s Japan.

Pants on a chicken.

“Remember, Jayne, you’re just gonna scare him.” “Pain is scary.” “Just do it right.”

I don’t know how to think about this. It’s funny, but would it be as funny without the expression on the face of the guy on the left? And what /did/ he mean by saying, “That’s okay,” in the first place? Probably not /That’s okay/, right?

The good old days, featuring Donald Trump and the Greensboro 4.

These prize animals were bred specifically for this.

Trump TRUMP Trump Trump.

The unfortunate mathematicians.

A nice drive in Siberia.

A photographer’s life lessons. (Lesson 1. Don’t piss in your tent if you’re on a trip to photograph reindeer herders. The reindeer will trample the tent.)

The world’s champion pediatrician.

Who, WHO, /WHO/ will teach the babies about Jesus?

And /who!/ will sell the rubes enough pancake mix and dehydrated potato soup to last through the Tribulation?

And no Bad Lip Reading short is too last week. Right, Kakeesha? ‘Cause I got a sandpaper sandwich, uh-huh, uh-huh.

Jabba’s sail barge.

      “I think that the guy is lazy. And it’s prob’ly not his fault, because laziness is a trait in blacks. It really is; I believe that. It’s not anything they can control, ya know. I’m not racist. I’m the least racist guy you’ll ever know. They call me a racist, and that’s just a lie. That’s another thing they do. But I love black people. I’m gonna be a big president for the blacks, and that’s why they love me. I’ve got black accountants at Trump Castle and at Trump Plaza — black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes every day. Those are the kind of people I want counting my money. Nobody else.” –Donald Trump

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-19) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and enjoy.

I have a cold, so I took more frequent breaks and played a little more recorded material than usual, but otherwise it’s not a bad show. Something for the aliens to find when they land and we’re all dead and gone, but there’s a thumb drive in the ice, see, and they figure it out and play it by plugging it directly into their nose, and they like it. One of their scientist-poets goes, /Let’s find some DNA and recreate these creatures./ And then we’re alive again, but are we grateful? No. We resent them because that’s just the way we are, but they don’t care; they just like to walk around after us and watch us do things.

Also, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

The dangers of hypnotism. Apparently it can induce shenanigans.

Morph art women.

Gears and springs.

Props to props.

Without natural mass extinction, we never have evolved to the point where we can do it on purpose.

“Git ma dowg! Ma dowg!” What I like most about this –besides that everyone lives– is where the videographer realizes it’s really happening, not something he’s just watching, and he should put down the camera-phone and bring the boat. “Oh,” he says, “Sorry, sorry.”

Best backyard swing ever.

Replace the word very.

This is how all political speeches on teevee look and sound to me. And probably to you too.

And this:

“Let’s Zapruder this GIF.” Yes!

Here’s your band-practice drum machine, dude.

Read, scroll down and watch the video. I want to say /unbelievable/ but it’s entirely believable, right down to where Officer TortureDork, in the middle of the action, says, “Good boy, good boy,” to his police dog that is chewing the man’s leg off because the man won’t stop trying to get his leg out of the dog’s jaws.

“You want to be beautiful, so you sit for twenty minutes until they come to peel it off.” And, “Never /ever/ draw the lips too far out if the face is low and squat.”

Whatever drugs these people have taken, it was probably a bad idea. It reminds me of a Halloween thing when I was first in college, where a couple of freshman boys came to a pumpkin carving table, went entirely nuts, stabbing and slashing and laughing and screaming –shredded every pumpkin in the place– and when they wandered off into the night a chaperone upperclassman said to his girlfriend, “Some people should not take drugs.”

The happy stabbiness of Medieval art.

Cartoons of the Russo-Japanese war.

The generals sat, and the lines on the map moved from side to side.

A flowchart for people who get all defensive when talking about racism.

Despite the presence of Jeff Goldblum, the only movie improved by whom was /Igby Goes Down/, /Powder/ was magical and unforgettable. It was so good, in fact, that this droll snarky critique only reminds me how much I liked it. Especially the part where Powder makes the hunter feel what the deer feels.

The dance craze.

“Reduces corpulence! Cures indigestion and gout!” “Electrically brands the arse, without smoke or fire!”

Peter Serafinowicz dubs his own voice over this guy. He says the exact words, but his voice improves it. There’s a whole series of these.

Hot Wheels road trip.

If a car company just made a car like this today, everyone would want one.

78rpm disks and 160rpm Edison cylinders.

Some more generators. Loot:
Idiom-mixed aphorisms:

Auctioneers rapping. Which should come as no surprise.

The death and burial of Cock Robin.



Toying with the ether. An equipment check.

KNYO is set up in such a way that I can just check the schedule so I don’t screw anyone else up and get on the air and play with the transmitter and test things in the middle of the night, and I did that a little earlier tonight (3 to 3:30am, Wednesday night/Thursday morning).

This sort of thing always reminds me of the middle 1980s when I was building transmitters in the kitchen, in Caspar. I’d turn on a transmitter that was a pile of parts a few hours before and put a stack of records on the changer and wander up the street in the fog with a pocket radio to see how far it went. We were close to the sea cliffs, across the cow field. Salt spray in the air. When the air was right the power wires would arc over the insulators to the wood of the telephone poles and gently snap and flash. Caspar is the only place I ever noticed that happening… Wait, no, that’s not right; I remember seeing that in San Francisco this last winter. Ward and Amy took us to a Thai restaurant, and it was raining like crazy off and on, and wires were arcing on several poles in the quiet between downpours.

In the middle-late 1980s I was teaching at the Whale School in Albion, among other things, doing radio drama over the phone from the Whale School live on KKUP in Cupertino, making little Tesla coils with the kids. I remember how magical it felt when Juanita and I would sit on the floor in the kitchen in our first place together, with the lamp off, playing with long streams of sparks from one of these homemade toys and, when our eyes had adjusted, admiring the little clouds of blue corona discharge around the corners of the woodstove and on everything else metal nearby. I still associate that calm, numinous, comforting scientific feeling with the smell of ozone. And it’s still a kind of magical experience turning something on that you’ve made with your hands, even though it’s just familiar computers and the web anymore (on this end, anyway). And just afterward I got email from people who were listening on the radio, so, good.

Here’s the recording of the short impromptu set of test music, ready to download. There’s a little triumphant-sounding swearing in it. If that bugs you, then don’t bother.


Ingloond axpicts. As do Woolz and Scootlund, laddy-me-boy.

      “I like the relationships. I mean, each character has his own story. The puppy is a bit too much, but you have to overlook things like that in these kinds of paintings. The way he’s /holding/ her… it’s almost… filthy. I mean, he’s about to kiss her and she’s pulling away. The way the leg’s sort of smashed up against her… Phew… Look how he’s painted the blouse sort of translucent. You can just make out her breasts underneath and it’s sort of touching him about /here/. It’s really… pretty torrid, don’t you think? Then of course you have the onlookers peeking at them from behind the doorway like they’re all shocked. They wish. Yeah, I must admit, when I see a painting like this, I get emotionally… erect.” [View widens. The painting is revealed to be a solid red rectangle.]  –Steve Martin, L.A. Story

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-12) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to acquire and shake out and aurally adorn your hareem. Or kitchen, or whatever, that’s up to you.

Besides the usual six hours of stories and poems and educational fulfillment, including the saga of con-man/spy/Oriental mystic Ignácz Trebitsch of the Royal Hungarian Academy of Dramatic Art… let’s see– Scott Peterson called to blow the lid off the lucrative Fort Bragg murdered-whale racket. Stuart Cohen dropped by, sang a few songs, lamented the loss of a treasured childhood New Jersey trombone, recited a paean to radio-controlled toys. (You might recall the stirring line, “A paean! A paean!” in Henry Purcell’s /Dido and Aeneas/, whose stage design was the model for Jabba’s sail barge. ) Sean and Naomi came in– Naomi can pay $100 for a deejay with his or her own equipment to play music, that Naomi will provide, for her sister’s wedding in a couple of weeks in the Caspar Community Center. If you can do that job, or you know someone else who can and will, call her and work out the details: (707) 367-7338.

So! Also, here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Our sun, the heating system. This kind of thing never gets old for me.

Wrong. The job’s not done till the paperwork’s done.

Our greatest delusion.

“I will never build furniture on acid again.”

“It works. I don’t wanta bark anymore.”

Kanye noises. A compilation.

The marvelous V-12 Blastolene B-702. (Click to the side view.)

She was crippled in an accident, but not so crippled that there wasn’t hope. So she worked and worked to be able to walk up the aisle on her wedding day, and she did it. Wedding photoset.

A little wobble.

Man with camera wanders around at the top of skyscrapers and jumps from ledge to ledge. Thrillingly hard to watch, even though I’m telling you he doesn’t fall.

Super skate girl.


“I told the devil: Here’s your needle back.”

A long, interesting, very visual article about museums and virtual reality.

Sewage truck gently explodes on dashcam. Actually, less of an explosion and more of a sort of hiccupy /pooomph/. Note how the Russian language seems practically designed to talk to oneself about events like this as you drive through the result.

If meat eaters acted like vegans.

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

And a happy Hiroshimeve to you too.

      “I remember my old schoolmaster, who was a prodigious great scholar, used often to say, ‘Polly matete cry town is my daskalon.’ The English of which, he told us, was that a child may sometimes teach his grandmother to suck eggs.” –Henry Fielding

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-08-05) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and dive in and splash everywhere and toss it up and let it fall and hit you on the head.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

An inspiring article about astronautics and space, with big high-rez photographs, and charts and videos, and a first person account.

Congrats, Collatz. Further trolley-problem hijinks.

The illusion of truth.

Where all that Olympic money goes. (Not to the athletes.) (Which is a lot like the way they do it at KZYX– a handful of people in the office get /all/ the money and the local airpeople get none at all. Does that seem right to you?)

Proof Bernie Sanders actually won the Democratic primary. (15 min.)

“My advisers tell me that these sepiatone photographs of my parents attest to my human origin.” Actually, this is an ad for Dissolve, a stock footage company, from whose stock the composition was assembled.

The impostor syndrome.

On the other hand.

“So that’s it for me, then?” “Sadly, yes, as I am talking to Max, now.”

A new kind of robot that generates its own motion.

Mechanical sympathy.

It’s hard to hit the sun.

Star size comparison 2.

Who wore it best?

Computational thermoforming.

A couple of interesting tests that reveal your political bent.

Look, up in the sky, it’s a bird on a bicycle.

Forecasts for 1907.

The panorama.

Where should we look for aliens, then?

Bottle Boys’ latest innovation.

In and out in three minutes.

This room, that room, or gone.

You remember the right-wing lunatics of Fox so-called News all bitching about how Michelle Obama sullied the White House by being the kind of no-class Muslim bimbo who would wear an armless gown for a photo shoot? Hmm. and

Brains. “We have a very narrow window between when the person passes away and the time we need to be done processing the brain.”

Meet me tonight in Atlantic City.

For the 400th and 300th times, respectively, I recommend you see these films.

Both of us.

Yeah, that’s good. Stand right there.

A judge with a whole person inside.


How voting works.

“She sounds like the product of two car alarms mating.” “She has the warmth of a tin toilet seat.” “Fold them.”

Kazoo kid remix.

Zippy virus makes inroads.

How to make a bluidy fortune in artisanal confetti and keep it all from the tax man. A big part it, it turns out, is that there’s no place with flaccider taxation laws than Luxembourg.

Nostalgia for the stupid 1980s.

Nostalgia for the stupid 1880s.


The rewards of teaching.

John Cage’s composition /Four minutes, thirty-three seconds/ covered by death-metal band Dead Territory. More cowbell.

“I did not have relations with that man.”

Mr. Creosote sketch from Monty Python /The Meaning of Life/.

Exercise your demons.

A source of unlimited power.

“Oh, sod the abbatoir. I’d love to be a mason. If I were a mason, I’d sit in the back and be quiet and not get in anyone’s way.”

Tabloid shocker: Worst tabloid ever turns out to be better than the best tabloid ever. Also, click to see the parody.

It’ll all end in flames. And a celebratory dance. And a howler monkey hoot of triumphant rage-triumph.

And Conway’s Game of Life in 3D. (Click and drag to change view angle.)

Political science. A fizzing erotic romance of simplistic rhetorical plugs and sockets, pumps and valves, a sawtooth wave of airheaded chuckles and sharp regret, and helplessness to ever accomplish anything at all until it pleases the idiot giant to lift his ham-handed foot off your neck.

      “A mind like yours, Carver, too smart for the room, over-thinks everything, easiest to manipulate.”

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-29) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and dive in and splash everywhere and toss it up and let it fall and hit you on the head.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

How the first written languages spread.

Making crappy graffiti intelligible one flat surface at a time.

How did Hitler rise to power? Easy.

Spatial bodies.

Tavistock b-roll video of Man Engine. Don’t adjust the sound; there’s not much sound there to hear.

How to land a passenger jet without any flight controls. (A simulation and explanation of a real event.)

You ruined everything, you stupid bitch.

Ode to joy.

Accents. “Where will YOU be when the ATOMIC BOMBS fall? I know where I’LL be. I’ll be under your mother’s BED. It’s SAFE under there.”

Weight: 8 pounds. Cost: 16 guineas.

Eye roll.

What does the porcupine say?

What it’s /really/ for.

This guy is great. And, by the way, that’s his mother driving the car. She’s fine with it until about 4:15 and then she’s all /Hey! I’ve driving a car, here!/

Leadership strategies for women.

Oh, sure, it seems obvious /now/.



A cruel trick to play on such a majestic creature.

      “Let the future tell the truth, and evaluate each one according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I have really worked, is mine.” –Nikola Tesla

Here’s the recording of last night’s (2016-07-22) KNYO (and, three hours in, also KMEC) Memo of the Air: Good Night Radio show ready to download and be noticed for enjoying with an attractive bearing of calm, detached amusement, the way you always imagined you’d be delighted to be seen, but now that you’re there you wonder if that’s what you really wanted. Yes. Yes, it is.

And here are links to a few not necessarily radio-useful but otherwise worthwhile items that I happened upon while putting the show together, found mostly thanks to the fine websites listed to your right.

Ice is civilization.

As is gentle mother-and-daughter contact water ballet.

The eggs for eyes on the pizza-pacman ghosts. And the meat slicer.

And staring out the window.

From a million miles away.

Automatically colorize black and white photographs…

…And here are some black and white photographs to try that with:

This is like that saying about lemons and lemonade but with a cute butt-shaped nose instead. Award for excellent use of nose.

Marie Osmond recites Dada poetry.

Laura notices her involuntary /Heil Drumpf/ reflex –oops– and expertly collapses it into a modified queen wave.–The-Solution

Tim and Eric’s Zone Theory. Just seven steps to achieve a perfect life.

Hypnotize them, yes. Acupuncture won’t work, because the needles would have to be like three molecules thick. Homeopathy won’t work, because bacilli come in far greater than homeopathical numbers. Prayer won’t work, because that’s just wishing.

Another great visualization of Fourier analysis.


Robots are even putting dreadlocked homeless people out of a job.

Almost –not quite– as cool as the Prince Rupert’s drop. Which is still pretty cool. And I like how safe the guys are being, with proper eye protection and all. That’s what to do instead of just saying, “Don’t try this at home.” Because, /try/ it at home –try it all at home; just be safe.

The poor horse. I’m glad it wasn’t hurt.

Catch you.

This single instantly obsolete new boat cost 13 billion dollars, enough to feed and clothe every hungry naked child on Earth and buy them reading glasses if they need that too. And it can’t do any of the things it was built to do. It’s just a giant radioactive tub toy that will cost /another/ 13 billion dollars to man and operate and fuel and supply and equip and carry the captain’s collection of puffy leather couches around for twenty years. And all the people who profit from this obscene waste get to keep the money, and nobody’s going to jail for it.

Cringeworthy professional teevee news compilation.

Try to tell me this guy isn’t Mussolini.

…and/or Osama bin Laden. Or both at once.

I don’t know what a ratchet ho’s (ho is) but it can’t be good. Except, you can sing it to the tune of I Don’t Know Where the Wild Wind Blows. (Not the Iron Maiden song. The cowboy one.)

Education! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Now, who’ll gimme fibe-fibe-fibe fibana quahtah! Fibana quahta fibana half! Fibana half, fibana-half-fibana-half-fibana-half, six! Etc. Although you’d think there would be some black or Asian people interested in a job like this. Apparently not.

Have you wondered about those flying saucers? Then, watch! as Kreisler brings you /The Search for the Flying Saucer/. (If the actress seems familiar to you, she should. She played the criminal’s low-affect girlfriend in the Outer Limits episode /The Zanti Misfits/.)

How we get electricity.

How we get tennis balls.

Bovril. Independent scientific research has proved its body-building power! I’m jolly well taking daily Bovril! Bovril puts beef into you! “It’s Bovril or nothing for my man!” says Mrs. Fudgell of Bristol.

“There’s nothing like it for keeping your knees and your pecker up.”


The saddest polar bear in the world.

A cruel trick to play on such a majestic creature.

Vaporeon stampede.

We had it, and we just let it go. Why?

An electric vehicle that could drive from Boston to L.A. and back on the equivalent of the chemical energy in a quart of gasoline (if the road was flat the whole way).

With perfect mass-to-energy conversion the energy in that same quart of gasoline would put 250,000 Volkswagens in orbit. And if you put them in low Earth orbit in a line, evenly spaced, they’d only be a city block apart. And then when aliens came in like 20,000AD in response to our radio signals (the Goat Gland Doctor, I Love Lucy, Alex Jones, Terry Gross interviewing the granddaughter of the woman who invented the windshield wiper, etc.) and the planet was a block of ice or a lifeless burnt out cinder, and they saw those VWs and went /What the hell?/ it’d be totally worth it, way better than the aircraft carrier (see above), which would be rusted to dust by then anyway. Metal doesn’t rust in space, for the same reason no-one can hear you scream there.

And anecdotes v. data, applied to Reiki “energy work” bullshit, but this applies to everything people believe. Everything.