Tag: Madness

It’s not ska, and it’s not rocksteady, but it’s definitely Jamaican and powerfully dancy — you can call it “69 Reggae” after the year of its initial popularity.

The mechanic reached deep into the tool bag, knowing the required spanner would be at the very bottom. The clanking briefly drowned out the strains from the radio, its signal relayed every 500 meters by the commpods they had dropped on the way. Carefully fitting the business end of the tool between the rear set of treads on the boring machine, they found themselves exclaiming out loud “actually, I think it’s pretty interesting.” The surveyor, measuring the long tunnel behind them with an x-ray transit, looked back briefly, by now used to such outbursts. The cavern should be another two miles down.

I have never been so uncomfortable, thought the hacker as they strained to match the wires in the fusebox, their head inches from one of the combine’s many potentially lethal harvesting blades. The lookout’s shadow was barely visible against the hangar door. Straining to clip the blue wire into the scanner, they heard a soft call and nearly lost an ear before remembering their uncomfortable position.

Well, that was an interesting show. Not much listener activity tonight, though that's OK since I had my hands full with SSL certificate madness in order to finish the Secret Project that is this site itself. Perseverance at the command line won the day (and the small green lock on your browser bar), even if it was interrupted every minute or few with ongoing radio show requirements.

Side note: It is impossible to purchase or renew a certificate without at least two password resets. I'm not sure which of the thermodynamics laws governs this, but it seems to be fairly immut

Beach House's music always rings as the soundtrack to some brain-warped too-much-party film montage. WIth "Drunk In LA", their song titles are catching up with the vibe.

Time has not dulled the edge of this band. "Show Me The Sun" highlights their psychedelic side.

It's a steamy Florida night, and it marks the debut of Julius C. Lacking on the airwaves of WFIT, a university radio station in Melbourne, Florida. The random nature of the playlist is born of a catastrophic home furnishing disaster that hopelessly jumbled the contents of the vaunted Lacking Selection, the music library which Julius has been aggregating for the last twenty years. The process of its re-cataloging and collation, which promises to last decades, will henceforth be known as The Lacking Organization. Let it begin.