[Kzyxtalk] A dweam wiffin a dweam.

[Marco McClean]

Subject: A dweam wiffin a dweam.

      /"I see the way you act around Cat Woman. It doesn't take a 
genius-level intellect to see you're hot to tap that. I mean, damn, look 
at 'er. I would flood Gotham just to hear that girl fart through a 
walkie-talkie."/

Here's the recording of last night's (2022-05-13) Memo of the Air: Good 
Night Radio show on 107.7fm KNYO-LP Fort Bragg (CA):
https://tinyurl.com/KNYO-MOTA-0488

Thanks to Hank Sims for all kinds of tech help over the years, as well 
as for his fine news site: https://LostCoastOutpost.com

And thanks to the Anderson Valley Advertiser, which provided well over 
an hour of the above 8-hour show's most locally relevant material, as 
usual, without asking for anything in return. Though I do pay $25 
annually for full access to all articles and features, and you can too. 
As well as go to KNYO.org, click on the big red heart and give what you 
can. Radio is cheap, and while speech is free and electricity to run the 
transmitter is nearly free (50 cents a day), the rent and music 
publishers' and streaming fees and occasional replacement part and city 
water to flush the toilet are not, even if you only flush it once a day 
to be frugal. Nearly the opposite of every other radio station I know 
of, every penny you give to KNYO goes to actually maintaining the radio 
station. Zero of it goes into an owner's or manager's pocket. So, 
please. Also, the cheapest joy of all: email me your work on any subject 
and I'll read it on the radio this coming Friday night, tit for tat 
rather than quid pro quo, and no hangover.

BESIDES ALL THAT, at https://MemoOfTheAir.wordpress.com you'll find a 
fresh batch of dozens of links to not necessarily radio-useful but 
nonetheless worthwhile items I set aside for you while gathering the 
show together. Such as:

Bridesmaids revisited. There's a faint chance some of the little ones 
might still be alive, dozing in a wheelchair in a care facility hallway 
somewhere, dreaming of whatever, all agency over and past. Somewhere in 
the distance three competing teevees blat, a push-cart clatters over a 
heater grate, and a nurse's station's desk phone rings nine times and 
gives up.
https://www.vintag.es/2022/05/1920s-bridesmaids.html

This is how this sort of conversation went in 1985, when people could 
still go whole minutes without freaking out and punching or shooting or 
stabbing someone who asked them politely to stop being a toxic nuisance 
to their neighbors. Also: the idea of a designated smoking section in an 
airplane is laughable. /I/ can smell people smoking cigarets two cars 
ahead of me on the highway, and if it's allergy season, that's enough to 
be a problem, besides that if it's allergy season the whole countryside 
is a tinderbox and they'll be throwing that cigaret out the window into 
the grass and lighting another one to eventually throw out the window 
into the grass. Ugh, like it would somehow be okay because they went ten 
feet away to another seat, to /the smoking section/ of the airplane, and 
kept smoking? But... I remember being fifteen years old, riding in a 
church-provided bargain bus full of kids to go skiing, five o'clock in 
the morning, smoking a literal cigar. The girl in the seat behind me 
tapped me on the shoulder and said, "That is /so/ not cool." I said, "Is 
it?" Later I was in a four-person gondola going up to the upper slopes 
of Squaw Valley (that's racist and insensitive; they've changed it) with 
that same girl and her boyfriend and some other person, maybe my friend 
Jeff. We all smoked a joint, and right around then she started to come 
on to the acid she and her boyfriend had taken earlier. She was 
increasingly distressed, discussing her feelings about whether she could 
do this or not, and beginning to shriek a bit. Well, we were in a 
claustrophobic fiberglass pill hanging high in the sky in a Twilight 
Zonish cold fog, but that wasn't the problem; it was something internal. 
Her boyfriend boredly said, from experience, "When we get to the 
terminal, go in the bathroom and sit on the toilet till you feel better. 
It's just a drug. It'll wear off." And, provided with a confident plan 
from a trustworthy source, she was instantly okay. We got to the top, 
got our skis and poles off the gondola's rack, everybody went our 
separate ways, and there she was on the way back down to Sacramento on 
the bus that night, none the worse for wear. Ah, youth.
https://tinyurl.com/DesignatedSmokingArea

And Bacon and God's wrath.
https://nagonthelake.blogspot.com/2022/05/bacon-and-gods-wrath.html

-- 
Marco McClean, memo at mcn.org
https://MemoOfTheAir.wordpress.com