<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348</id><updated>2012-01-25T07:58:56.318-08:00</updated><category term='opening'/><category term='why why why why why'/><title type='text'>In the Red with Kagy</title><subtitle type='html'>Transcripts from In The Red, a fictional radio show from college radio station K.N.O.T. in Springhill Oklahoma.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-6443539670845246590</id><published>2010-11-16T05:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T05:51:16.237-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Off The Air?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Perhaps you've heard this story.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;A Marine joins a class room and the professor stupidly calls to the heavens at the beginning of class, “God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me from this platform.  I'll give you exactly 15 minutes.”  Time passes as the class room remains silent.  “Here I am, God.  I'm still waiting.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Allow me to interrupt for a moment.  I completely admit I choose this story to badger my producer, Tom Wits, a Born again Baptist who may not agree with what you say and fight to repeal your right to say it.  Let that be known, fore he may enjoy this story, but it comes with a hefty moral at the end from your beloved radical agnostic.  Continuing.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;The time comes down to the wire and no lighting nor stormy wind has tumbled the professor.  Finally, the marine arises, approaches the man, and socks him hard in the mouth, knocking him from the platform.  He then, silently, returns to his seat and a stunned class room.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Eventually, the professor comes to and asks, “What did you do that for?”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;The Marine responds, “God was too busy protecting American soldiers who protect your right to say stupid stuff and act like an idiot.  He sent me.”  And the class room cheers.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;The moral I give of this tale is that arguments are best solved through the use of violence and bold unfair strokes across the mouth.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Last night, the show covered the first question about what Springhill thought of the TSA pat downs and possible invasion of privacy.  This lead, for one reason or another, to the question of weather or not the War On Terror was an American holy war.  Soon after the question arose, we were cut off.  I didn't even get to invite people to Mina's Movie Club.  The reason given was that I might offend the proper good church-going community with my questioning of what is obviously a touchy matter.  You know, those church-go'ers who stay up until three in the morning.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I argue that if not a talk radioshow, where else would one gleen the oppinions of the insomniac college community, but, no, I'm on probation or whatever it's called when you're knocked off your platform by a marine.  It's not like I asked God to do it.  So, Mr. Wits, supporter of troops, but not discussion there of, I present to you this prayer I found in a holy book of my own.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly?  God grant that it was so!  You heard these words:  'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient.  The *whole* of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words.  Elaborations were not necessary.  When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory--*must* follow it, cannot help but follow it.  Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer.  He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them!  With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe.  O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!  We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;-The War Prayer, by Mark Twain.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-6443539670845246590?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/6443539670845246590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/11/off-air.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/6443539670845246590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/6443539670845246590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/11/off-air.html' title='Off The Air?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-7618474871774881846</id><published>2010-08-24T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T10:47:56.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's School Like?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  There is a subtle wind caressing the campus, tonight. It is the breath of the freshmen, in all their confusion, and the breath of the teachers in their anticipation of new minds to conform.  School started today, Springhill, and the energy was noticeable.  How are you doing tonight, new comers?  You're listening to In the Red with me, Kagy.  If this is your first show all you need to know is our phone number.  [listed off number that I'm not dumb enough to repeat on the internet].  Normally I begin with a question, but seeing how this is your first night in school, I declare this a free day.  Call me about whatever is on your mind, Freshmen.  First, however, let's begin with a little 'Processing.'&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--The Last Express, by Vernian Process&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YRcqv8RScak&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YRcqv8RScak&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I see only a few lights on my board tonight.  Are my regulars feeling timid among the new meat?  Caller one, what do you think?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 1&lt;/b&gt;:  Hey, Kagy.  Long time caller, first time listener.  I'm coming out from OKC and I've never heard of this show.  Usually I'm listening to the KATT.  Any suggestions for someone new to the town?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Yes, don't believe the hype.  Inuit Bob's Bar and Grill is worthless.  Except for the onion rings.  Also, one street over from “The Strip” is Black's Bar.  Avoid it on Friday nights.  Every other night is fine.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 1&lt;/b&gt;:  The strip?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Oh, you'll be familiar with the Strip soon enough.  Good luck One.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Number Two, are you ready?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  What?  Huh?  Oh, it's one-o-five.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  What?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  Huh?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  You called me, Two.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  Not yet.  It's one-o-six, now.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I see.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Caller three, how'est is thee?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:   Hey, is this where I call for advice?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Depends on your problem, Three.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  Yeah, I was almost run over by a bike outside the Student Center.  Does no one watch out for pedestrians here?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Ha ha, common sense?  You're funny.  No, expect to suffer tire marks if you stand anywhere near the bike paths around here.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  And the crows?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Don't feed them.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  I didn't have to.  They were attacking me!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Oh.  Right, I forgot to tell you, Freshmen everywhere.  Do not keep any kind of muffins on you while on campus.  Bread is fine, but muffin's, even if kept in a container, will attract the unwanted attention of crows.  And no, we don't understand why.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Caller four, what do you adore?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 4&lt;/b&gt;:  I am not a number, I am a free man!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  For our purposes, you are number four.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 4&lt;/b&gt;:  I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, briefed, debriefed, or numbered!  My life is my own.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  For all official purposes, everyone has a number.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 4&lt;/b&gt;:  Who are you?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I am number two.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 4&lt;/b&gt;:  Who is number one?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  You are number six.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 4&lt;/b&gt;:  Ha!  Alright, I know when I'm beat.  Any place around here one can get a good bit of RP?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Look for the Rawhide Rollplayers at the Student Center at night.  Usually on Saturdays.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 4&lt;/b&gt;:  Thanks. [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Ooo, I forgot to tell him not to piss them off.  They're kind of like the Springhill Mafia.  Caller five, are you still al-...wait a second.  I'm out of callers.  David, what's going on out there?  [&lt;i&gt;sound of David shrugging&lt;/i&gt;]  Well, we have time until the next commercial break, so I will punish you all for not calling me by playing Don't Worry, Kyoko, Mommy's Only Looking For Her Hand in the Snow, by Yoko Ono.   When we come back from commercial, I expect there to be more lights on my phone line.  Prepare.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;[&lt;i&gt;The horror&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-7618474871774881846?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/7618474871774881846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-school-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/7618474871774881846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/7618474871774881846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-school-like.html' title='What&apos;s School Like?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-3923455900537705232</id><published>2010-08-20T06:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T06:20:47.332-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='why why why why why'/><title type='text'>WhyStart This All Again?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;For those outside the know, there is a larger than normal room with classic decor you may wander freely into in the Student Center of Annalow University.  It is called the French Room and entering it feels like walking into the music room or some abandoned but well kept manor in the country side of the wine nation with its cream colored walls and golden framed paintings surrounding a grand piano.  In my many years here in Springhill I have never understood this room's existence, but it makes an excellent quiet atmosphere for chess playing with my college friend and make-shift councilor, Jenny.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;This was on last Wednesday and there was a small rustling outside as students frantically gather their schedules, bursar information, and random array of books, half of which may serve them in the following semester.  I was ignoring the native savages outside the open doorway and paying more attention to my rook if I remember.  Jenny was the first to break my concentration with talk about this blog and I have no recording to transcribe.  You'll have to take my word for it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Her worries were about my lack of energy and/or consistency of life.  Jenny believes that a consistent update on the show would be good practice for other things I should do such as diet or exercise.  I gently informed her to keep her nose out of my shit or I will bite it off, but she persisted despite my kind metaphor.  That I enjoy my mornings in the afternoon and my healthy menu of wine and movies disturbed her.  I'm no trashcan, as she imagines, but a connoissuer of cheap boose and paperbacks.  I see no problem here.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Her argument was, besides the show and the few spots of writing I faultily submit to magazines, I have created nothing in my life.  “Gee Mom, how about you shut the fuck up?” I said with affection, but my clever retort seemed only to egg her on.  After three moves and two checks on the board, I finally gave in to trying the blog once more if for no other reason than to quiet the crawling chaos screeching from her mouth and allow proper concentration.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;So you have Jenny to blame for my cranky, yet desperately witty transcripts.  With classes starting on Monday, only hope of recognition of my incredible creative power drives me forward in my quest to distract you a little.  I've already adhered my share of fliers onto aged bulletin boards across campus grounds informing students of the show.  Mayhap this blog will serve as my online poster advertising In the Red with Kagy on 98.2 in the Springhill area.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Perhaps not.  My reputation as a gutter intellectual is held in the balance.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-3923455900537705232?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/3923455900537705232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/08/whystart-this-all-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3923455900537705232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3923455900537705232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/08/whystart-this-all-again.html' title='WhyStart This All Again?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-9094062250893812271</id><published>2010-06-30T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T11:10:59.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's With These Cricket?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Segments stars with Poisoning Pigeons in the Park, by Tom Lehrer&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yhuMLpdnOjY&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yhuMLpdnOjY&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Somewhere under all this chaos, there is a story to be told.  Not by me, of course.  I'm hardly a journalist, but I sit at the riverside of information in this town and many strange things float by, including this.  For those tuning in, there is a strange cricket invasion in the parking lot of Merit Field Stadium.  Well, since it's the middle of the show, I think I'll change my question to “What's up with all these Crickets?”  Caller Twenty-Eight, what's up with all these crickets?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 28&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;muffle chirping noise in the background&lt;/i&gt;]  I don't know, but they smell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  You're near the parking lot?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 28&lt;/b&gt;:  I'm IN the Parking Lot.  I'm actually in my car in front of the football stadium.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I've seen it.  It's...oh...I would say...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 28&lt;/b&gt;:  Biblical.  I mean, there's not just a few crickets here.  I thought you were exaggerating, but I can't see things like the doorway to the stadium because it's covered in crickets!  This is crazy!  I'll tell you what, tho.  They smell!  I never knew crickets smelled, but they stink to high heaven.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Thanks for that update, Twenty-Eight.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Twenty-Nine, what's up with all these crickets?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 29&lt;/b&gt;:  They want free internet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Ugh.  That was just awful.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Caller Thirty, what give these crickets the right to invade?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 30&lt;/b&gt;:  They're crawling in my home!  It's a mad house!  A MAD HOUSE!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Okay, calm down.  It's not the end of the world.  [&lt;i&gt;dramatic music&lt;/i&gt;]  [&lt;i&gt;whisper&lt;/i&gt;]  Or is it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 30&lt;/b&gt;:  I've put a towel down under my front and back door!  It doesn't work!  They just crawl through.  The noise!  THE NOISE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Yes, you're not the first person to call about the noise.  Seems they've been invading homes as far as five blocks away from the stadium.  Hmmm...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 30&lt;/b&gt;:  Please help!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I'm sorry, we're just getting information.  Moving on.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Caller Thirty-One, Hi.  Any idea on how this cricket invasion started?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  Huh?  Oh, I don't know.  The lights around the field, I guess.  Hey, can I get that girls number from before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  No, I'm not a phone book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  You don't even know who I'm talking about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Doesn't matter.  Not a phone book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  Come on.  I think I know her.  I think I love her.  You wouldn't want to get in the way of True Love, would you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Have you seen any pictures of me, lately, caller Thirty-One?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  Uh...yeah.  I...uh...went to your site once.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Do I have yellow pages sticking out of my side?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  Uh...No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Did you see me wrapped up in a book cover?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  uh...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Do I have a map of Springhill tattooed on my back?  Was there info on me about emergency numbers?  Did I have coupons sticking out of me?  NOT-  A-  PHONEBOOK!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  But...True love.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Caller Thirty-Two, I'm not a phone book, am I?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 32&lt;/b&gt;:  Wow, I must have missed something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Hey, Dr. Nick.  Why are you still up?  I thought you had to work tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dr. Nick&lt;/b&gt;:  I'm watching some online review of Episode I.  Anyway, it's the lights inside Merit Field.  That's what's attracting the crickets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Huh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dr. Nick&lt;/b&gt;:  Yep.  The lights around Merit Field are always on every night.  Something about it being easier to leave them on than to turn them off then on or something.  Well those lights have always been so bright as to light up the sky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Okay, I'm with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dr. Nick&lt;/b&gt;:  Insects are attracted to the lights, so all the crickets moved into the parking lot.  In fact, a friend of mine said you can't see the grass in the football stadium.  You know that fake statue of the Analow Crow at the north of the field?  Can't see it.  It's gone under all the bugs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Wow.  Huh.  Okay, any idea how to get rid of them?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dr. Nick&lt;/b&gt;:  Meh.  There's enough crows and sparrows in town that they'll get sucked up eventually.  Nature has a way of balancing these things out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Well, thank you for that input, Dr. Nick.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  David is signaling to me, so I'll have to leave you for a little while, Springhill.  We'll be back.  Keep the calls rolling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Roll Commercials&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-9094062250893812271?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/9094062250893812271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whats-with-these-cricket.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/9094062250893812271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/9094062250893812271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whats-with-these-cricket.html' title='What&apos;s With These Cricket?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5432158886970246436</id><published>2010-06-28T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T06:27:05.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Do Hangover's Suck?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sniffle&lt;/span&gt;]  I have got two words for you.  Horrific Hangover.  For those of you who attended, I'm so sorry I threw up on everything.  Things just seem to go wrong when I drink whiskey.  For those who were not at Mina's this Saturday, you missed a party that dare not be spoken of.  Hi, you're In the Red, with me, Kagy, and I feel like the rotting bath-towel of K.N.O.T. College Radio.  The industrial vats of wine drank that night may have been enough for me to drive over every student on campus either from my cathartic nature to destroy all living things that squeak louder than 3 decibels or the PMS like mood in the cranial cavities left by fighting after the movie.  There's a baby crying about three block from the K.N.O.T. building.  I know because I feel every dust molecule banging against my head vibrating the smallest of noises.  God I hate life.  Here, children, let me play a little song for you while I grab a coffee.  Enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Played Lake Pontchartrain, by Ludo&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GQ-pNMz7pVA&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GQ-pNMz7pVA&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller one, give me one reason why I shouldn't hunt you down and take ou my frustrations on your skull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Alians.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sic&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  You kin scoff all you like, butt they're out thair an' they've visited us resiliently, Kagy!  The Greys, the Lizard-Folk, the Moth-Men, they're are all real and human'ty has ta' come ta' terms with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;snort&lt;/span&gt;]  By my baggy eyes, you're full of it.  Though, just because I like to humor each and everyone of you horror shows, why don't you give me what everyone wants;  Proof?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  I have in mah hands pho-to-graphic evidence of a spaceship land'n out back on mah brother's farm, Kagy.  It is clear as the blue skah.  If ya' look hair you kin see the rocket-ships engines made of some strange alian-alloy mankind has yet ta' discoverred.  And hair's absolute proof of the in coming space-diplomat the govern-mint has denied existence ovar and ovar again.  Look!  Ya' kin see it, plain as the nose on yer face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]  Yes, that looks quite convening, Caller One.  I must admit, I didn't expect to see such blatant evidence of alien contact.  But don't you think it's a little blurry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Ya' Skeptics.  You always expect the photo's ta' be clear when take'n at night?  It's hard ay-nuff ta' get an' alian ta' come down an' park on your hey-field as it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, Alright.  I concede except for one little detail, Caller.  One and only one thing that ruins your credibility enough to keep from convincing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Ee-eah?  Whut's that, now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You are trying to show me pictures through a telephone.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pause&lt;/span&gt;]  Still there, One?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm so alone.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller Two, Aliens may destroy the world, how does that make you feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  You!  You bitch!  What have you done with my boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh god.  Was that your's?  I can barely remember a thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Where is he?  He won't answer his cell phone!  He hasn't been home!  I saw you leave with him Saturday night and never saw him again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;siff&lt;/span&gt;]  Look, all I remember was walking out of the theater and waking up confused and naked with three other...bodies in a dumpster outside the Springhill Police station.  Be glad we were all still alive...I think.  I have no idea if one of them was your boyfriend, okay?  I got out of there fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  In a dumpst-  What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And I never did find my clothes or my own cell phone.  Er...Or, in fact, anyone's clothes or possessions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  I...uh...What did you do to him?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't know, Two, as I told you!  Just... [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sigh&lt;/span&gt;]  Just call the police and tell them to check for clues behind their station.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Once again, if you were at the party...  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;snort&lt;/span&gt;]  Man.  Just call me and tell me what happened, if you can remember.  I still don't know who the other two women were.  Damn, there goes that baby again.  Caller Three, if I paid you in gold doubloons, would you kill me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey Kagy I...Oh...No, I wouldn't.  I just have some stuff I gotta plug on your show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sure, why not?  It's not dangerous, is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  No, they are everyday under the counter megaphones.  I have twenty-seven of these fine devices that can amplify the quietest of voices 30 to 40 decibels, and they each have an attention function!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click-SCREECH&lt;/span&gt;!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Aaaahh!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sound of headphones flying across the room&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Now, each of these have been supped up by yours truly and if you call me in town, I can deliver them to ya' as soon as tomorrow.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;clicking sound of Megaphone&lt;/span&gt;]  My phone number is XXX-XXXX in the 405 area-code!!!  Thanks Kagy!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sounds of fumbling and random swearing&lt;/span&gt;]  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in a dying voice&lt;/span&gt;]  kiiiiilllll meeee...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, will I ever find true love?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;silence&lt;/span&gt;]  Hello?  Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  kiiilllll meeee.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller  4&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  kiillllll.....meeee......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Er...I...I think I got the wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  sssevennn daaaysss....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  I gotta go.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;roll commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5432158886970246436?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5432158886970246436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-do-hangovers-suck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5432158886970246436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5432158886970246436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/why-do-hangovers-suck.html' title='Why Do Hangover&apos;s Suck?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-2294606376205329338</id><published>2010-06-18T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T06:50:58.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Justin Bieber Attacks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Segment starts with Personal Jesus, by Depeche Mode, performed by Marilyn Manson&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rl6fyhZ0G5E&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rl6fyhZ0G5E&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Oh thank God for Manson.  For those of you tuning in, we're under attack here at In the Red because someone realized that Justin Bieber is the devil and decided to call in playing him every five minutes.  If you're out there, ghost of Alester Crowly, I could use some voodoo that you do.  Oh....Oh my phone lines are lit up, but I'm afraid to touch them.  Here goes...Caller talk to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 42&lt;/b&gt;:  Still working on the source, Kagy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Thank Poe, it's Malchavian Daren.  What do you mean, the source?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Darren&lt;/b&gt;:  Me and Dr. Nick have been messing with your phone lines.  We were listening in and decided to start hacking into the phone system...Hang on.  What?  Why are you giving me the signal to shut up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dr. Nick&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;in the background&lt;/i&gt;]  Quiet, already!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Darren&lt;/b&gt;:  Oh, right.  I mean to say we certainly would never hack into a public phone system, that would be illegal.  Anyway, the most we've found by tracing the source is the calls are coming from inside Springhill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Brilliant.  You are truly an epic detective duo.  Hold on, I got another call.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Caller Forty-Three, whats...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 43&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;Plays a clicp of Eenie Meenie Minee Mo Lover, by Justin Bieber&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;with hatred&lt;/i&gt;]  NO!  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  The horror.  The horror.  Caller Forty-Four...Please be safe to pick up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 44&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;sounds like Roger Jackson&lt;/i&gt;]  Trouble tonight, Kagy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I'll ask the questions here.  But...I forgot what tonight's question was.  Ugh.  What's up, Forty-Four?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 44&lt;/b&gt;:  I was about to call regarding the failings of reason and how it's dangerous to rely exclusively upon it, but your plight is far more interesting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Ah, this would be Mr. Hand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 44&lt;/b&gt;:  Indeed.  Tell me, Kagy, why would the vocals of America's preteen star bother you so?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Or you kidding?  His voice sounds more autotuned than T-Pain.  Forget my own toxic hatred for diabetes inducing pop-music, this would be an attack upon my audience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 44&lt;/b&gt;:  You could always start screening calls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  And ruin the spontaneity of Springhill's public?  I'm not sure it's worth it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 44&lt;/b&gt;:  You're choice, of course.  Sounds like you change the show's format to screened calls or change it's name to In the Red with Justin Bieber.  I'll leave the decision to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Mr. Hand, it almost sounds like you had something to do with this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 44&lt;/b&gt;:  And you sound paranoid.  I am just presenting out an observation.  Good luck, Kagy.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  That was creepy.  Caller Forty-Five, talk to me.  And NO MUSIC!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 45&lt;/b&gt;:  Hey, Kagy.  It's the Barrle Roll guys.  We're calling cuz we feel sorry for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Er...Thanks you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 45&lt;/b&gt;:  You know what you ought to do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I can guess.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Alright.  [&lt;i&gt;breaths&lt;/i&gt;]  Here we go.  Caller Forty-Six, what's on your-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 46&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;Plays a clip from One Less Lonely Girl, by Justin Bieber&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;Unintelligible screaming&lt;/i&gt;]  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Hang on a second, Springhill.  [&lt;i&gt;dialing noise&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Darren&lt;/b&gt;:  Uh...Hello?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Darren, any luck?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Darren&lt;/b&gt;:  Nope, we're still checking.  Most likely we won't know until tomorrow's show, if they do this again.  Um...Not there there's anyway we'd know 'cuz we're defiantly not doing anything illegal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dr. Nick&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;in the background&lt;/i&gt;]  Dude, would you shut up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Darren&lt;/b&gt;:  I gotta go, Kagy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Yeah, sure.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Okay, one last call.  First I will clear the lines...and last Caller, speak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 47&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;Plays a clip from Never Say Never, by Justin Bieber&lt;/i&gt;]  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  NEVER!  [&lt;i&gt;sound of angry screaming in concert with something thrown across the room&lt;/i&gt;]  Okay...Okay...We're done.  I know it's a little early, but I think we've both had enough, Springhill.  Tomorrow I'll be a the Cerulean Theatre on Campus.  Mina's Movie Club will be showing The Night Flier.  Blah Blah blah.  I'm done.  [&lt;i&gt;About a minute of dead air&lt;/i&gt;]  Okay.  I said ALRIGHT!  Grrr.  [&lt;i&gt;Read quickly&lt;/i&gt;]  In the Red is produced by David Orger and I'm you're host Kathryn Guilty.  This was a K.N.O.T. College Radio production.  Thanks go to our fearless leader, Tom Wits and anyone who listened.  Thanks to everyone who called in except you!  YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!  Good Night and die in a fire.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Show ends with She's Unreal, by Meat Beat Manifesto&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-2294606376205329338?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/2294606376205329338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/justin-bieber-attacks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2294606376205329338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2294606376205329338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/justin-bieber-attacks.html' title='Justin Bieber Attacks'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-40214249092198125</id><published>2010-06-10T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T08:43:59.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's next on The Chopping Block</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments starts with Lover's End, by Birthday Massacre&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lxku0wFMBb4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lxku0wFMBb4&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, Springhill, we're still here chugging away on this track called 'reality.'  Let's see...which line should I pull next?  How about...Caller Twenty-Five, Who will be Next on the chopping Block?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;voiced like Roger Jackson&lt;/span&gt;]  I don't even know what that means, but I thought I'd get something off my chest anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, sure.  The Doctor is in, five cents, please, Mr.  um....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  Again, you make little sense.  I don't like names.  Called me Mr. Hand.  I have talked with so many...I guess the only word for them is 'zealo,t' that tell me I'm going to hell if I don't change my heathen ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  To rule or to suffer?  Wait, you've been talking to Crazy Bob, haven't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  Robert Filben is ignorable.  That fact that he is known as Crazy Bob makes him about as serious as an aardvark in a clown wig.  No, I'm talking about people at my work place, which I shall not reveal.  As inappropriate a place to declare my damnation, I still receive such thread from the children of God.  I'm quite sick of it, so I'm declaring that I will indeed go to Hell if that's the price to be free to think for myself and not in the confines of religious dogma that is forced down our throats harder than any health care bill.  That's right, I'm damning myself out of spite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  A brave statement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  Would you like to come to Hell with me, Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  That was easily the best pickup line I have ever heard, Hand, but I can't because I still believe forgiveness is a divine ideal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't understand what you mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  If forgiveness is divine then there would be no Hell.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Next.  Caller Twenty-Six, Who's next on the chopping block?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 26&lt;/span&gt;:  Paris Hilton.  I hate that bitch!  She's worthless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Apparently she worth your attention.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Twenty-Seven, Who's next on the Chopping block?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 27&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;young man's voice&lt;/span&gt;]  Hey, Kagy, I'm in the middle of homework.  I know it's late, but I have a question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Can't you ask your parents for help, Twenty-Seven?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 27&lt;/span&gt;:  No.  They're asleep.  Look, I'm in the middle of a question for Environmental Science, and it asking me what the temperature is called when humidity reaches a point to cause condensation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You won't believe it, Twenty-Seven.  I actually know that answer.  It's called a Dew Point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 27&lt;/span&gt;:  Dew?  DO A BARRLE ROLL!!!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  ARGH!!!  They just KEEP.  GETTING.  IN!  Oh, this Thursday morning is turning into quite something, isn't it?  Caller Twenty-Eight, who's next on the chopping block?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 28&lt;/span&gt;:  My friend is, I guess.  Can you believe she doesn't like anime?  I mean, it's just a aesthetic, isn't it?  A cool Aesthetic.  Anime is awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...yes.  Sure.  Whatever you say, Otaku.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 28&lt;/span&gt;:  What does Kagy think about anime?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm usually bored with it, excepting some individuals such as Petite Cossette and, of course, the Vampire Hunter D movies.  The trouble is so many people mistake anime style for anime content.  Just because it's anime does not automatically make it good.  Compare a good anime, such as Eden of the East, in my opinion, against a bad anime such as the Angel Sanctuary OVA, in my opinion.  Too many themes and story elements repeat themselves in most anime.  The high school harem story with super esper powers saving the world from a galactic spirit world menace in the sky.  It's just Meh after a while, wouldn't you agree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 28&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long pause&lt;/span&gt;]  You're going to hell.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Might as well hook up with the early caller, then.  Date accepted, Mr. Hand.  We'll be back after this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;run commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-40214249092198125?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/40214249092198125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whos-next-on-chopping-block.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/40214249092198125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/40214249092198125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whos-next-on-chopping-block.html' title='Who&apos;s next on The Chopping Block'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-970025299968422931</id><published>2010-06-08T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T11:06:26.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's Your Favorite Author?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Can you hear it?  Defecate fingers clicking and tickling the keyboard of my life, tapping out fate in digital percussion.  It's as if God were writing my life into Yggdrasil draped in wired and silicon.  Fabulous.  If you haven't guessed, you're now In the Red with me, Kagy.  I've adjusted my headphone to hear you better and pulled close my wine to forget you faster.  Tonight's question is, who's your favorite author?  Before we get started, I have a little tune here that I should have played last show, given the question, but was lost in all the excitement.  Meet me back here is a few minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Plays Bela Lugosi's Dead, by Bauhaus, Radio edit.&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mriBc6NjUhg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mriBc6NjUhg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Ready to play a little game tonight, Springhill?  I get a point for every caller who strays off topic.  Okay, Caller one, speak with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 1:&lt;/b&gt;  What's the deal with anime?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  One point for me.  What's wrong with anime, One?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 1&lt;/b&gt;:  What's not wrong with it?  Just for starters, it's everywhere!  It's like a plague, or something.  All the girls have these enormous boobs and disturbingly big eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I take it you don't like cartoons?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 1&lt;/b&gt;: Cartoons are fine.  I mean, Tom and Jerry.  THAT was a good cartoon.  But this new anime thing is just out of control.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I see.  Caller Two, any thoughts on your favorite author?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  No, and I'm never going to read again!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  How tragic.  Why, may I ask?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  Oh, because we're all going to die.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  No, I mean, yeah.  We're all going to die.  Sure.  But I mean we're all going to die soon!  Forget about 2012, or the backed up geyser in Yellow Stone Park.  The government is going to destroy us first by taking away our rights.  We won't be allowed to have guns, they're tracking us in every way through credit cards and soon RFID tags, They're choking up the Internet with these new rules abolishing net neutrality.  The world is ending on a social level and there's nothing we can do about it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Don't forget all the poisons in our food and water.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 2&lt;/b&gt;:  I know!  There's nothing we can do!  WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Of course, the world was ending since humans could light fire.  Caller three, are you feeling cheerful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  I know what happened to the cats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Eh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  Remember, a couple of weeks back?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Yes, we're all familiar with the mystery of the Cats of Springhill.  What happened?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  I...I was walking through the woods south of Black Well, and I found a house.  I'm a photographer, you see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Uh huh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  Well, I like to photograph old buildings and decaying structures.  This house looked abandoned, so I climbed in through the window.  It looked like the previous owners had a...a thing in the basement.  There was a lot of equipment and a lot of cat skeletons lining the walls of the basement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Uh huh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  Well, they were still there.  The owners, I think.  There were about five of them, dead in the attic.  It looked like they fought back against something, and... [pause]  God the dried blood.  It was beyond creepy.  But they were still there, Kagy.  Just...Just the bones.  Brown stained bones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Hmmm...Do you have photos?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 3&lt;/b&gt;:  God help me, it was all I could do.  I couldn't move when I saw them.  Just...I just took pictures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Let me transfer you to David real quick.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Springhill, we'll be right back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Roll commercials&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-970025299968422931?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/970025299968422931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whos-your-favorite-author.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/970025299968422931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/970025299968422931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whos-your-favorite-author.html' title='Who&apos;s Your Favorite Author?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5654976268394154886</id><published>2010-06-07T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T10:38:29.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Lookville?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Hey, Springhill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I may step slightly out of character for a bit, I just received this in the mail and thought I might share the automation of the internet with you.  First, read this  [&lt;i&gt;Anything in brackets is my addition&lt;/i&gt;]:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi there blogger!  [&lt;i&gt;Hello, Robot&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just visited your [&lt;i&gt;Machine Voice&lt;/i&gt;] "In the Red with Kagy" [&lt;i&gt;End Machine Voice&lt;/i&gt;] blog and I was super impressed by its design and content.  [&lt;i&gt;That's Super!  Clearly, you didn't notice I use a stock design that barely works with my content, but thanks for the flattery&lt;/i&gt;.] We just opened up our site Lookville for beta testing.  [&lt;i&gt;Uh-Oh, I see where THIS is going.&lt;/i&gt;] It's a place for people to have discussions, share tips, and ask questions about fashion.  [&lt;i&gt;Okay, clearly you didn't read my blog nor its description&lt;/i&gt;] Currently, memberships are by invitation only and I would love to have you on it!  [&lt;i&gt;What?  Why?  I'm a Goth DJ in Podunk Oklahoma, not Tyra Banks&lt;/i&gt;] Use this invitation link to sign up if you're interested: [&lt;i&gt;Link withheld&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And we would love to hear your feedback.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ciao!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Heidi C.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Goodbye, Robot&lt;/i&gt;.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I won't pretend to be slightly flattered that In the Red has gathered the attention of bots so soon, but it does seem out of place, doesn't it?  Lookville, if you are interested, is like Digg.com, only with fashion blogs at it's center instead of the news.  This seems like a stable concept, but their recruiting methods leave something to be desired.  Is it a scam spam?  Probably not.  As Dr. Nick tells me, it's just a budding website, trying to get it's wheels off the ground.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tune in tomorrow, Springhill.  I shall endeavored to continue my transcripts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5654976268394154886?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5654976268394154886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-is-lookville.html#comment-form' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5654976268394154886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5654976268394154886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-is-lookville.html' title='What is Lookville?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-3232528998881880193</id><published>2010-06-02T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T09:53:30.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who is Your Favorite Dracula?</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments starts with Sick and Beautiful, by the Artificial Joy Club&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3-J5jA4SOwg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3-J5jA4SOwg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Thirty-Nine calls!  We're booking it tonight, Springhill.  Caller, you are number Forty!  Now, who played your favorite Dracula?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 40&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh my God!  Did I win?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No, Forty, you're just number Forty tonight.  Who played your fav-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 40&lt;/span&gt;:  What did I win?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Listen, sister.  There is no prize!  You get nothing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 40&lt;/span&gt;:  Great!  How much is it worth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I...uh...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Forty-One, who is your favorite Dracula Actor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 41&lt;/span&gt;:  Christopher Lee.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ooo, nice choice.  Back when he was hot.  Forty-Two, what about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 42&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;much talking in the background&lt;/span&gt;]  Hey, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Er...Is this Tom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah, Babe.  I'm out here at the Mave and we all decided that Lugosi was the best by popular vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  The popular vote, of course.  Who were second choices?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Lee, of course, but also Gary Oldman, Richard Roxburgh, and, I can't believe I'm saying this, William Marshall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  William who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long pause&lt;/span&gt;]  He was Blackula.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I...uh...  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  What caller am I on?  Oh yes.  Forty-Three, what of thee?  Who's your favorite Dracula?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 43&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  Shhh...I'm hiding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh good, a stalker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 43&lt;/span&gt;:  I just found this get together of the Springhill Knights, a collection of farm boys and high school kids who dish out their own brand of vigilante justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh...I know about the Knights.  You should probably just walk up and say 'Hi.'  They don't like suspicious stalkers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 43&lt;/span&gt;:  They have a bonfire just at the edge of town.  I heard them on my CB radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes, they still use those even after the invention of the cell phones.  Tell me, do you see a man near the fire in a red cowboy hat and leather jacket?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 43&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...let me see....yeah...yeah he's next to a truck right in front of me.  I can just make out the license plate...it's...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  One moment, Springhill.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dialing noise followed by ringing&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Voice&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Kicker?  Turn on your headlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Voice&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Headlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Voice&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright alright.  There, they're on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Background Voices&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, who's that?  What the?  GET HIM!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;laughs&lt;/span&gt;]  Oh, sometimes this is too easy.  Forty-Four, what's up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 44&lt;/span&gt;:  The dude from Monster Squad!  He was the most awesome Dracula of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Monster Squaud...  Let's see, that was...Duncan Regehr.  Also, one of my favorite movies as a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 44&lt;/span&gt;:  Yay!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, let's finish this at a nice round forty-five.  Caller, who is your favorite Dracula.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 45&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Kathryn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, everyone!  It's Vlad!  Vlad, Springhill is curious.  Who is Springhill's-only-vampire's choice for best Dracula.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Does Max Schreck count?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I...uh...  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  And I'm calling it a morning, faithful listeners.  As always I'll be on tomorrow morning at One, and you can meet me at the Cerulean Theatre for Mina's Movie Club.  This week, we're watching Blood: the Last Vampire; anime version.  In the Red is a production of K.N.O.T. College Radio and is produced, roughly, by David Orger.  Thanks go to our station director, Tom Wits and to everyone who called in.  Even you.  I'd like to thank anyone listening to this or any small time radio.  Have a good sleep with pleasant nightmares.  And Vlad, yes, Max Schreck counts...I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;End with My Favorite Things, by Rodgers and Hammerstein, performed by Pomplamoose&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-3232528998881880193?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/3232528998881880193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/who-is-your-favorite-dracula.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3232528998881880193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3232528998881880193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/who-is-your-favorite-dracula.html' title='Who is Your Favorite Dracula?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-3325228747979499770</id><published>2010-06-01T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T06:53:24.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Your First Memory?</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segment starts with Heal It Up, by Concrete Blonde&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SmcrEt8uqCk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SmcrEt8uqCk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I was a lier, you were a cheat.  God, I love that song.  Kagy, Here, and it's our midpoint, so I thought I'd switch things up.  Tell me, Springhill, what's your first memory?  Caller Eighteen, you're on.  What's your first memory?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  I just woke up for a horrible nightmare, Kagy, and I'm not sure what to make of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's true that NOTHING is more interesting than hearing people's dreams, but I'm quite fond of nightmares.  Tell me your's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  I was in Springhill, but everything was in Black White and Red.  Remember the Goth Pizza Shop that used to be around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh yes.  I used to go there all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, I dreamed that a demon entered the place while a psychic woman told her niece to get out of the building.  Then two men robbed the joint while I watched, but as they entered the bathroom, they each, in turn, were killed.  There was blood everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't know how you'de have seen that.  They never had lights in the bathrooms, but it sounds like something that happened to my friend, Panda Girl.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Nineteenth Caller, let me hear you holler.  What's your first memory?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, how do I ask a boy out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What are you, 15?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Well...Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;: Oh...Sorry, I wasn't expecting to give a class.  What's the boy like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, he's super.  He's real soft spoken and he doesn't ask me hard questions, like what it's like to go home to a family that hate you or why your uncle invite you over and you both spend the night drinking all the cooking sherry.  I mean my GOD!  Who does he think he is?!  And I can't tell my damn Dad, cuz he never listens to a word I say, he just picks fights and wakes me up with cigaret burns, that fucker!  I'll kill them!  I'LL KILL THEM ALL!!!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;panting wildly&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ah.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]  Well, the first thing you should do is talk to the school councilor, the second, get the boy to talk about himself then ask him out afterwards.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Wow, that was more awkward than my family reunions.  Caller Twenty, What's your first mem-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  Cats!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes, it was a fine play.  Especially if you're into furries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  No, the Cats are back!  Why?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You sound familiar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  I called in last week about the cats!  They disappeared, and now their back!  Why?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You think that's strange?  Gargamel strolled up to my door, as happy as can be all purry and furry.  He won't eat a thing, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.  We notice that, too.  None of the cats would eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, alls well that ends well, I guess.  We may never find out what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  But it drives me nuts!  I'm going to find out, one way or the other, Kagy.  Even if I have to dissect one of those beasts.  [click]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Strange.  Caller Twenty-One, let's have plenty fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Voice like William Sanderson&lt;/span&gt;]  Chili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  My first memory.  It's chili.  That's why I opened the shop.  Hey Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Is this Steve?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  That's me.  Chili has been my life since my first memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  How old were you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  Three years old.  That's why Steve's Deadly Chili is the best in the world.  I've got tons of practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You're already a sponsor, Steve.  No need to plug your shop, here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  I just live and breath chili, Kagy.  It's all I think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sure sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, that and little girls, but my therapist says to keep my mind busy with the chili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  So tell you're listeners, if they're in need for family fun, come on down to Steve's Deadly Chili Bowl.  Bring everyone along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sure, Steve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  Especially the Girl Scouts.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Two awkward moments in one segment?  I think not.  Time to run some commercials...and Dave, make sure Steve's isn't one of them, this round.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Run commercials, including Steve's.  Freak'n Dave&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-3325228747979499770?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/3325228747979499770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whats-your-first-memory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3325228747979499770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3325228747979499770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/06/whats-your-first-memory.html' title='What&apos;s Your First Memory?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-7068832175615636206</id><published>2010-05-31T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T09:37:32.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Night Off</title><content type='html'>There was no show last night.  On Memorial Day, Tom Wits, are fearless director, sent everyone away in exchange for automated music playback.  Thank you, WinAmp.  No show means nothing to transcribe, so me and my coven got together and played a round of Call of Cthulhu.  Fun.  Also, my cat, Gargamel, came back, as did, I've heard, all cats in Springhill.  Odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I've learned there is a Vampire Movie Marathon on Chiller, so I am going to watch that and hide from the sun.  Perhaps later today, I'll reread Herbert West, Re-animator, which was what our game last night was about.  Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a fine day off, and the show will continue as normal tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-7068832175615636206?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/7068832175615636206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/memorial-night-off.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/7068832175615636206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/7068832175615636206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/memorial-night-off.html' title='Memorial Night Off'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-681738338774464115</id><published>2010-05-28T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T08:51:23.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have You Seen a Cat?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh my stars, sky, and heavenly bodies!  I'm on the radio?  How could this be, unless...yes.  You MUST be listening to In the Red with me, Kagy.  It's a fine Friday morning and you can taste the darkness outside with all those stars and the moon hanging like a sweet scoop of vanilla.  It's a mad night for mad people.  Tonight's inquiry:  What drives you crazy?  Before we get started, how about some music?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Start up Late at Night, by Futureshock&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/avNIo9ojg8o&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/avNIo9ojg8o&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Aren't we all looking for action tonight?  Well, Springhill, tell me.  What drives you crazy?  Caller One, time for fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  You're going to hell, Kagy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  To rule or to serve?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  I know this, cuz I've seen ya!  Everyone who listened to your vile program!  Everyone involved!  They're all going to hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Is this Crazy Bob?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm not crazy!  I'm the only one who truly sees the face of God!  An' he's scowl'n donw upon the city.  He don't like what he sees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Okay, first off, how did you get this number, but more importantly, aren't you involving yourself with the program, thus going to hell yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  You got'ta KNEEL down, woman!  Kneel down and beg the Lord's forgiveness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And that's about as much of that as I can stand.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  So, where were we?  Caller Two, What drives you crazy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  This Cat situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, not this again.  You're talking about the cats all disappearing around Springhill, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes.  Exactly.  Everyone has these theories as to why it's happening, but no one knows.  Well, I just happen to be part of a class in animal behavior at Annalow University, and we've been researching the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, you have my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Our class started by checking with the vet and with local animal shelters, then we had to track down and talk to about 200 cat owners around town.  The main pattern is that if a cat leaves the house hold, it vanishes.  There have been no new strays for the last week and well known local strays no longer appear.  Once a cat leaves human eyes or home, they just disappear.  Our best guess is there is some kind of sound or vibration outside of human hearing that's driving the cats away.  Our second best guess is an influx of some animal hunting the cats, but that's less likely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, with what I know about sound, there are ways to raise or lower pitch of ambient sound to make the unhearable hearable, but why is the predator theory less likely?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Easy.  The certainty of a cat's disappearance means that the predators would be in enough numbers as to not only be noticeable, but alarming as well, but we haven't seen any new animals in Springhill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hmmm... [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Mysterious.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Slash Whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Okay, Two, thanks for your input.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  We'll change the question tonight to 'Who's seen a cat out there?'  The Moon is full.  The sky is bright.  There must be SOMEONE who's seen a cat outdoors.  Caller Three?  Any sitings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...er...No.  Hay, can I get that one guys number from last night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh yes, 'him.'  I remember 'him,' fondly, but...uh...just for our listeners, why don't you be more specific?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  The crazy midget guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's Dwarf or Little Person, and no, I'm not a phone book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, could you tell him to call me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm afraid to ask why, but I'll tell you what:  If you're willing to broadcast your phone number across the town's airwaves, go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Um...Never mind. [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Another dissatisfied customer.  We'll be right back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Roll commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-681738338774464115?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/681738338774464115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/have-you-seen-cat.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/681738338774464115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/681738338774464115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/have-you-seen-cat.html' title='Have You Seen a Cat?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5071750358808649591</id><published>2010-05-27T05:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T06:00:53.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Your Super Power?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Segment starts with Slow, by Professional Murder Music&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DiKhT1TgpwA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DiKhT1TgpwA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  The night is winding down and here comes the morning.  I would like to say Three-o-Clock is a good time to call it quits, Springhill, but before that, let's continue our discussion, shall we?  Caller Thirty-One, What is your super power?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  Hey, I wanna talk about those idiots who always call in with their “Do A Barrel Roll” bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Oh yes.  The frat boys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  Have you any idea how old that joke is?  I mean, are they from the past?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I've heard that line before, but there's not much we can do.  In the Red absolutely refuses to screen calls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  You know what you should do, next time they call?  You should...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Yes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 31&lt;/b&gt;:  DO A BARRLE ROLL! [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;sigh&lt;/i&gt;]  It's never been funny, but at least they're putting more effort into it.  I shall have to sick the Raw-Hide Roll Players on them.  Caller Thirty-Two, what is YOUR super power?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 32&lt;/b&gt;:  On Water Street there sits an ancient house covered in ivy and mold where lives this...terrible old man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  The one who speaks to jars containing lead balls dangling on string?  I've heard when he speaks to them, there comes a queer vibration, as if they speak back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 32&lt;/b&gt;:  Awe crap, you've heard this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Tho In the Red supports your ghost stories, please don't plagiarize Lovecraft.  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  For those just tuning it, this is something new that I've never seen.  Since the ghost story a couple of weeks back, I've been getting calls telling their own ghost story.  Caller Thirty-Three, what is YOUR super power?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 33&lt;/b&gt;:  Okay, I've thought long and hard about this and I finally got a power wholly original.  I've decided that I would be able to drain and copy the powers of others.  All these idiots have been wanting silly things like super strength and flight, but I could drain them all.  The great thing is, there's never been a super power like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Except Rogue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 33&lt;/b&gt;:  Who?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Rogue, from the X-Men?  And MegaMan, if you count him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 33&lt;/b&gt;:  Uh...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Also Syler, from Heroes.  Oh, and Peter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 33&lt;/b&gt;:  Who...What are you talking about?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  Does Taskmaster count?  Hmmm...Oh well, better luck next time. [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]  Caller Thirty-Four, what power would you adorn?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 34&lt;/b&gt;:  Hey, about that guy who called earlier about the cats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  The slow disappearance of cats in Springhill.  What about them?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 34&lt;/b&gt;:  Has anyone figured out that it's due to that new flute player guy who showed up at Hastings a couple of nights ago?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  You're saying we have a Pied Piper of Springhill?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 34&lt;/b&gt;:  Something like that.  I've just noticed that this all started when he showed up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  [&lt;i&gt;gasp&lt;/i&gt;]  You're right.  And you know what, the night the cats began to disappear was the same night I shaved my legs!  My God, what am I doing?  [&lt;i&gt;whisper&lt;/i&gt;]  For every smooth leg in Springhill, we lose a cat!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Caller 34&lt;/b&gt;:  Laugh all you want, but I'm telling you, we need to track that man down and ask him what he's doing with our animals!  [&lt;i&gt;click&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kagy&lt;/b&gt;:  I love paranoia, but that's all I can take for tonight, ladies and gentlemen.  This week, as Mina's Movie Club, we're watching Jack Carpenter's Vampires.  Meet me there at the Cerulean Theatre on campus this Saturday at Ten.  In the Red is a production of K.N.O.T. College Radio and is producer, wildly, by David Orger with me, Kathryn Guilty, as host.  We'd like to thank our station director, Tom Wits, for getting me out of jail, and everyone who called in tonight.  Even you.  Thanks also to anyone listening to In the Red or any small time radio.  Good night and have some very sweet nightmares.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[&lt;i&gt;End with  Property of Goat Fucker, by Lenon&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5071750358808649591?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5071750358808649591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-your-super-power.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5071750358808649591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5071750358808649591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-your-super-power.html' title='What&apos;s Your Super Power?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-4043379396223904430</id><published>2010-05-25T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T06:32:54.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do You Want To Die?</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments starts with Long Way Down, by the Goo Goo Dolls.  The music was stricken from Youtube, so no video this time.&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I see the clouds invade like drifting tanks on a black board.  There's a district smell of rain in my nose, and that drowsy floating feeling I think we're all aware of, as if the dreams float in the stratosphere of our brain.  You feel it, too.  Caller Eighteen, How do you want to die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  I want to go out like Roman Bellic.  Having a threesome on my hundredth Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry, I don't know who that is.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Nineteen, How do you want to die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Malnutrition.  Listen, Kagy.  If you don't mind, I'd like to talk about our terrible food in Springhill High School.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh dear.  To much junk food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  No, worse.  Too little.  Our children require more than just the tasteless plants in the caffeteria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I think I remember something in the paper a few weeks back about this.  But School is nearly over, Nineteen; and besides that, I'm pretty sure there have been studies showing that healthier diet generally helps Teens academically.  Why worry now about the food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:   I'm just concerned my kid isn't going to get his choice to eat the chips and Twinkies for lunch that he so enjoys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  As a side dish to a healthier lunch, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh please.  Like kids need more than chip.  You obviously haven't been a teenager, Miss...uh...Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Why would you want your child to eat junk food instead of...wait a second.  Do you work for any particular junk food industry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...no.  No, of course not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Where DO you work, Nineteen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  I have a...very nice juob in the...uh... [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow.  Twenty, tell me in this night of plenty; How do you want to die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  I will never die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, everybody!  It's Vlad, Springhill's only vampire?  How are you tonight, Vlad-inator?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Why do you insist on calling me that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm like Dr. Doofenshmirtz.  Everyone needs a good 'Inator.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't know who that is, but I am pleased to hear your voice I the night again, my dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You flatter, Mr. Inator.  Last night, they gave me a cake with a set of handcuffs embedded in it.  I've added them to my collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Welcome back, Kathryn.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Awe, that's sweet.  That's why I keep him around, but vampire or not, we all die, Vlad.  Caller Twenty-One, How will you die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  Asleep like my Grandpa, not screaming in terror like his passengers.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Nice.  Caller Twenty-Two, How will you die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, can you make the lights go out again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm afraid to ask, but why would you want that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  Are you kidding?  I got more tail that night than any other night of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry, Cassanova, I don't do repeat performances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  Huh?  I don't know who that is.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Twenty-Three, any last words before you die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  Why do you do it, Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Why do I do what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  You're clearly talented, yet you put up with these psychos and hillbillies every night.  What's the pay out?  Why do you subject yourself to these idiots?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ah, that would be telling, now wouldn't it?  A better question is 'Why do they keep calling?'  I'm clearly an abusive host, yet night after night, I get enough calls to fill a two hour period.  Call it my calling to take these calls.  If I weren't doing this, I'd have to been a receptionist, but this is far more fun.  I'm like an evil Mancow Muller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry, I don't know who that is, but...Okay, I guess.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Mmm, Insightful.  Well, my lord and master is signaling me to go to commercial, so away we flitter, but keep it here.  We've more psychos and rednecks to chatter with.  You are In the Red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cut to commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-4043379396223904430?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/4043379396223904430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-do-you-want-to-die.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/4043379396223904430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/4043379396223904430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-do-you-want-to-die.html' title='How Do You Want To Die?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-4939994006244912989</id><published>2010-05-24T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T09:33:37.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's on your mind?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cackles maniacally&lt;/span&gt;]  You can't hold me with your puny bars of metal, little law-system!  I'm too awesome!  I'm invincible!  I am KAGY!  And you're listening to me now In the Red.  Do not twist those strange knobs on your radio.  What have you been up to, Springhill?  How was the lightless night last week?  Did you sleep well?  Are you sleeping now?  You know what?  I'm so pleased with your support and that small group of mimes who protested for me, you call in and talk about whatever's on your mind.  Go on.  Oh, I'll bite you, but in a good way.  First, however, listen to this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plays Vampire Club, by Voltaire&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/L4KIY5DrIao&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/L4KIY5DrIao&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller One who shrank from the sun.  What's on your mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh..What's tonight's question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;: No Question tonight, One.  Talk about whatever's on your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh...I thought there was a question tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No.  What's on your mind, One?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Well...Uh...Have you ever loved a woman, and, you know, wanted to get intimate, but were afraid to ask her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Not since that gay-camp cured me of my lesbian tendencies.  Who's the lucky woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  My...uh...My mom.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh yes, it's good to be back, Springhill.  Caller Two, how do you do?  What's on your mindless mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, Kagy, what's the question tonight?  I missed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No question, just you and me.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  What's up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Huh.  I thought you always had a question on this show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Too happy to questions anything, Two.  Anything on your mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Well...It's pretty nice weather outside?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Not good enough, Two.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Three.  What's on your mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  What's tonight's question, Kagy?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oops, my finger slipped.  Four, please don't ask me what tonight's question is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, Kagy, glad you're back.  I...We missed you over here in the university library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh?  Learned scholars listen to my show?  I'm honored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, we're all pretty big fans and we're glad your back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  We just wanted to know if you could do something for us real quick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, I don't normally do requests, Four, but you got me on the spot.  What would you like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  DO A BARRLE ROLL!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long pause&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Son of a...Grr.  Caller five, what do you want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  I donno, world peace?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry.  Sorry.  That last caller got to me.  What's on your mind, Five?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  What's jail like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's a magical place where branches gilded of gold hung from silver wire under an ivory ceiling.  The bars are made of silver and glazed with honey.  Soft down were placed fresh on my bed each night for me to sleep and the guards rubbed my belly full with soft meats and sweet fruits until I slowly fell asleep under the warm glow of candle light.  I will forever miss the sweet and complex red wines and selection of expensive cheese and caviar.  Some nights I remember it fondly with tears in my eyes and the warm feeling of God in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  Re...Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No, it sucked.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Okay, one more.  Caller Six, GO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 6&lt;/span&gt;:  What's tonight's question, Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's 'Why Don't You People Ever Listen to Tonight's Question?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 6&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, hey, HEY!  No need to get nippy on me.  I just turned in during the vampire song, that's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh.  Yeah.  Sorry.  I'm a little wired.  I wasn't able to get my usual glass of wine in.  Instead I'm trying coffee and it's aweful.  What's on your mind, Six?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 6&lt;/span&gt;:  Just calling to see how you are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm out of jail.  No one took care of my cat, so he crapped over everything.  My message machine was filled with 'I Told You So's from my ex, and I have NO idea what movie is playing this week at the movie club.  I'm at least happy to be out of prison, but otherwise, Ugh.  Yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 6&lt;/span&gt;:  You need to relax a little, that's all.  Here, let me tell you what you can do.  When you get home, draw yourself a nice hot bath.  Add a little milk to it and a little scented oil.  Get in slowly and let every muscle just unwind.  Then after about ten minutes, twist around in a counter clock-wise motion around and around.  This'll help you dodge incoming fire from enemy ships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  You lost me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 6&lt;/span&gt;:  Enemy ship.  You know, the one's firring on you space craft.  This maneuver is known as a Barrel Roll.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I hate you.  I hate you all.  Suffer these commercials.  Suffer LARGE, Humans!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;run commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-4939994006244912989?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/4939994006244912989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-on-your-mind.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/4939994006244912989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/4939994006244912989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-on-your-mind.html' title='What&apos;s on your mind?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-2571815750143677103</id><published>2010-05-19T05:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T05:47:06.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back, Baby.</title><content type='html'>A glass of St John's Red Velvet with a side of chocolate cake,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching men fight over me at a bar,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain in the morning,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My corset fitting perfectly, not too tight, not too loose,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four white rings, four green rings,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crows cawing when I walk outside,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughing at the end of an RP session,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching vampire movies while eating popcorn with too much butter,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cat, Gargamel,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putting on an old coat and finding any amount of money in the pocket,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to my boys bicker,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A set of warm headphones with Fields of Nephilim in them,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waking up at 3 in the afternoon,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making snarky comments to callers of my show,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting out of jail, because Bill Marx had the foresight to make me record phone conversations with the police,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are a few of my favorite things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-2571815750143677103?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/2571815750143677103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-back-baby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2571815750143677103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2571815750143677103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/im-back-baby.html' title='I&apos;m Back, Baby.'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-3157709025613527990</id><published>2010-05-17T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T10:57:38.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Steel Bar Blues</title><content type='html'>I'm in Jail.  Yes, the Springhill Police Department didn't think it was as funny or interesting as I did.  In the meantime, K.N.O.T. has replayed Friday's episode with us in the woods and plans on replaying some of my old shows from last year.  On my side in the legal department is Tom Wits, who has quite a bit of pull and managed to get the university's lawyers on the case as well as my own lawyer, William Marx.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Across from the cell is Mr. Abraham Doddle, grinning like an idiot.  The madman who accoplished this evil sceme passes his time with push-ups and ranting on how the autonomous 'They' got what they deserved.  I punish him by reminding him he will never have any of the queen's mighty cooch again.  Lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may be off the air for a short while until this all gets sorted out.  One thing is for sure, my fan base has grown after last week.  There are a gaggle of goths protesting my incarceration which is both endearing and hilarious at the same time.  They don't do well in sunlight, and no one is watching at night.  While waiting, I'm not sure what to do with my time.  I may write a book or reread my Vampire: The Requiem rules again.  Not sure what to do in a small town jail cell.  Abraham, alas, has learned to play the harmonica.  It's a painful sound.  Also, I may become a racists if that black woman in the neighboring cell doesn't shut up.  Time passes.  Turns go by.  I'm bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last note for a while:  If you're ever hungry and have no money, I highly recommend you get arrested in Springhill on Saturdays.  Steve Sylvester, who runs Steve's Deadly Chili Bowl shows up every weekend with the Chili Surprise, which consists of Spaghetti with his famous chili on top.  It's damn good, and makes sin very worth your while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-3157709025613527990?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/3157709025613527990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/steel-bar-blues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3157709025613527990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3157709025613527990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/steel-bar-blues.html' title='Steel Bar Blues'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-7500955016335758273</id><published>2010-05-16T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T11:30:08.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Episode Without Light:  Conclusion</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sounds of rains and lots of squirming&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm currently in a minivan filled with men.  Be still my bleeding heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  You mean 'beating' heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Okay, it's working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Welcome back,Sprinhill, if you can hear this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I thought I called Shotgun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Queen's prerogative, Malkavian Darren.  Dr. Nick, any comment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Ew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  I swear it's not my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  I heard a boom somewhere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  I think those were fire-crackers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Heh.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Kaboom.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;slash whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  They're enjoying the lightless sky, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Tell us, Kathryn; How did you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Reveal your secrets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's...a long story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  The city's got some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Assuming it hasn't burned to the ground, yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Heh, and everyone has eaten themselves ALIVE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Not one another, but auto-cannibalism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bursts out laughing&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  So?  What happened?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ha Ha Ha.  Okay Okay.  You remember those semi-lewd phone calls I've been getting about a week back?  There was a man named Abraham Doddle who ran the Springhill Power plant on campus.  Every other night he would call in and talk about having sex with me.  I wanted to put a stop to him, to I went and did something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Like what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I had sex with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sounds of everyone's exclamation, some of them four-letter-words you can't say on radio&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh man!  So he DID bend you over the power console?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  Did you guys fuck up the system?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Some of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;laughing his idiot head off&lt;/span&gt;]  I should be jealous, but I'm too amazed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  There was more to it.  It was after the show the last time he called.  I got to the power station and the nice man up front let me through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Why would he do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm Kagy, remember?  So I met Abraham and we...uh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Humped like rabbits?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kick&lt;/span&gt;:  Got Bis-ay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Made a beast with two backs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, after all that, he went on about how bored and unhappy he was with his job.  He told me his plan.  He was going to shut off the power during the next New Moon.  He wanted to 'Shut all the Lights Off.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm pretty sure that's illegal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  And how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  And now you are an accessory, Kathryn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hardly.  You don't think I told the police?  I called them after the next show.  It occurred to me that there would be a lot of damage so I felt...um...  What's that word?  Guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I called the police.  I told them exactly what was going to happen and when.  They claimed I was trying to create sensation about the radio show.  I called them again, this time recording my conversation.  My lawyer said to 'get proof.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  No one listened to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's ironic, isn't it?  No one listening to a radio hostess.  I had to admit, I did like the idea.  A lightless sky.  So I warned Springhill as best I could.  Typically, no one listened.  Now we're out in the woods with it raining geese and ganders outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  You mean cats and Dogs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Avoid cliché, Darren.  So, Babe.  I know you you could of stopped this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes she could.  She's got major influince in Springhill, Mr...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Vlad.  No, tt's not in her nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm right here, boys.  But...yeah, Vlad's right.  I really wanted to see a lightless sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  What now?  It's nearly three, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's all those breaks we took.  I wonder how much of this will get to Springhill?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  My own cabin is around here...I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  You have your own Cabin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Of course.  You don't think I lived for hundreds of years without a cabin, did you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I thought that vampire thing was a joke!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  We hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Anyone remember the lack of power thing going on in town?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  I have my own generator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And a minivan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Go ahead and wrap it up, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Er...Springhill.  I do hope you're all okay.  I love this crazy little town of ours.  Hold tight.  Power should be back on once they realize I was right.  Um...Normal wrap up stuff, David?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Quickly, we're out of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright.  Mina's Movie Club at the Cerulean Theatre, if it's still there.  We're a production of K.N.O.T. College radio.  My Producer is David Orger, this was my coven, Malkavian Darren, Dr. Nick, the Vlad-inator, Tom, my ex-husband, and I was your host, Kathryn Guilty.  Thanks and apologies to the station director, Tom Wits, and everyone who can hear the sound of my voice.  Keep listening for emergency information and to small time radio like us.  Sweet Nightmares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-7500955016335758273?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/7500955016335758273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-without-light-conclusion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/7500955016335758273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/7500955016335758273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-without-light-conclusion.html' title='The Episode Without Light:  Conclusion'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5820261446256800660</id><published>2010-05-15T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T07:34:46.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Episode Without Lights:  Middle</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forrest noises.  A fire.  Emergency radio.  You know the drill&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Are we okay over here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Good as gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry about that, Springhill.  No music tonight.  Not much of anything tonight, from the looks of things.  Vlad and Dr. Nick have just gone to check out something towards the lake.  Darren, any last words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Last words?  What's that mean?  Last words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Before the rage infested zombie crosses come to rape us to death.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;David laughing in the background&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  That's not funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  The fire is nice, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Dead Air, Kagy.  Say something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry, got caught up in the fire.  Ooo, here come's our local Doctor and Vampire.  And they brought...Oh. My. God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  He was sneaking around the woods, spying on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Er...Hey, baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ladies and gentlemen, we are privy to an...interesting interview tonight.  It's Tomas Guilty, live on the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Damn, Vlad, I don't think I've seen you move that fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Prey you don't ever again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Ooo, Spooky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  So...What's up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Why are YOU here, Tom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  When Kathy Guilty says the lights are gonna go out, Tom Guilty listens.  I figured I'd catch you hear...alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alone?  Are you Mad?  With the lights out?  It's panic out there!  No, I got my boys with me.  Oh, Darren, you haven't met him, yet.  This is...sorry, was my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Everybody knows about Tom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Every Tom, Dick, and Harry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Pull up a log, dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  How did you get out here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  The Mave went dark around ten.  We all thought it would happen, but we weren't really ready for it to actually happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  You knew, too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  It's all Kagy has talked about for the last week.  You don't think I play just ANY music as the Mave, do you?  The patrens are mostly college students that miss being goth or poet-heads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry, what's the Mave?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;:  &lt;/span&gt;Coffee shop and the closest thing to a club around Springhill.  We got plenty of bars.  Only one all night coffee shop.  Anyway, Some girl named Pauline started passing out flashlights and I got out our candles.  After a while, we all decided to leave early.  I shut down the Mave and ran for Black Well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  How'de you know we would be here.  Right here, exactly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Come on, Babe.  It's Cabin 13 at the End Trail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  She lead us here on purpose.  Of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I swear, I didn't know this place was here.  I was directing at random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  You were not.  But I have no idea why you would want to be here.  This place closed down after the Jack Splatter events of 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  It' obvious, Mr...uh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Vlad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  You're not talking to an amateur.  This is Kathy Guilty.  She loves being in the middle of all the crazy in Springhill.  Probably set up the power outage, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  If I said I didn't, would you believe me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  Oh, come on.  Of course she set it up.  It's what she does.  The town maybe full of crazy people, but don't think Kathy is any voice of reason in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  You were married?  Then you know she would never do anything that were put her in legal trouble.  She fears jail more than she loves chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ahem&lt;/span&gt;]  I'm right here, boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Quiet.  We're talking about you, not to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Nah, she didn't cause this.  How would she?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What's up, David?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Rain.  I just felt the first drops.  I gotta get this equipment inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sound cuts out&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5820261446256800660?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5820261446256800660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-without-lights-middle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5820261446256800660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5820261446256800660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-without-lights-middle.html' title='The Episode Without Lights:  Middle'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-8463168785514292823</id><published>2010-05-14T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T10:08:08.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Episode Without Lights:  Begining</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm not very sure what all happened while I was away, but I've decided to split this into three parts, oddly separated by David's cuts in the show.  Each part will be posted today, Saturday, and Sunday, respectively.&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sounds of crackling flames along with crickets.  In the background one can hear David emergency radio talking about the incoming storm.&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  There are no lights, Springhill.  It's an overcast, starless, moonless night without power.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  David, how far out are we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in the background&lt;/span&gt;]  Pretty far.  Twenty miles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Springhill, if you can hear this, congratulations, you're still alive.  It's two in the morning, and I'm betting your panicing right now.  David and I are camped out at lake Black Well beaming this transmission to K.N.O.T.  Hopefully, with it's emergency power, we' are still broadcasting.  Honestly, I don't really know if you can hear me.  Where there once was a glow over the trees in the direction of Springhill, there is nothing.  No stars, no moon, to city shine.  I'm hear with my coven and we're all gather around a fire.  Everyone Introduce yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I...Uh...where do I...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Just talk in the mic.  Improvise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm Darren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  My Malkavian Darren.  Dr. Nick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello everybody, I'm Dr. Nick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Vlad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And I'm Kagy, of course.  We are all sitting around a fire in the woods at Camp End Trail.  Is that Cabin 13?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes.  I think that's where one of the Jack Splatter murder's took place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Always morbid, us.  Darren, you wanna explain what just happened to us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Um...no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Come on.  You've been on the show before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Make Dr. Nick do it.  Dave, can we get on the net with that thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Not happening.  I'm not even sure this signal is getting to the station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  I'll tell 'em.  Springhill, if your out there, the entire city has lost power.  All power, all at once.  We barely made itthrough the trafic.  Man, did you guys see all the cars leaving Springhill on 55?  It's like the end of the world out there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Not much to tell, really.  Kagy got us all together at the station.  She convinced that one guy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  That was Tom Wits.  The station director.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.  She convinced him to do a remote show at lake Black Well.  So we all jumped into Vlad's minivan.  Seriously, people.  Vlad, Master of the night has a minivan.  And...uh...We all came out here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  On the way out of Springhill, that's when the lights shut off.  Not just the buildings, of course, somehow the traffic lights as well.  It was Ten-o-seven.  I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't hate being right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes.  How DID you know this would happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'll get to that later.  David, how much time can we record on your laptop?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  Until your friend's car battery runs out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm an idiot.  I should'a grabbed my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Why didn't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I thought Kagy was full of it.  Uh...By the way, Kagy, I don't think I've ever seen you like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Like what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  You are dressed to hike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I have other clothes than just my clubbing clothes.  I even have an apron stashed somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Shhh...  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;] Did you guys hear that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hear what?  I can't hear a thing over these crickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Sshhhhhh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long pause&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  I think I heard it too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-8463168785514292823?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/8463168785514292823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-without-lights-begining.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/8463168785514292823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/8463168785514292823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-without-lights-begining.html' title='The Episode Without Lights:  Begining'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5951325521821333786</id><published>2010-05-13T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T10:27:11.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the Plan?</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments starts with Dead Man's Party, by Oingo Boingo&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iypUpv9xelg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iypUpv9xelg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alrighty, Almighty.  We're coming upon the end times, for starting tonight we experience a lightless sky.  When Springhill turns black, what are you gonna do?  Caller Thirty-Nine, how about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 39&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, It's late, but I just wanted to tell you and Springhill to stop underestimating us high-schoolers.  We're not dumb teenagers.  We're not mindlessly going to do what we're told.  We're responsible human beings with a will of our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ah, 'responsibility.'  Truly, yous is the voice of a generation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 39&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah!  I know.  I do well enough in school, so what are ya' complaining about?!!  I'm NOT wasting my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Let's see, it's almost three in the morning, Thirty-Nine.  Why are you up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 39&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh...Yeah, I'm fighting for the horde tonight and I got caught up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  How long have you been playing World of War-crack this morning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 39&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...about...since I got out of school.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Voice of a generation?  Caller Forty.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Ooo, we made it to Forty.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not so whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  What are your plans later tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 40&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Kathryn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, everybody!  It's Vlad!  Springhill's one and only vampire.  What's up, Vlad-inator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  I told you not to call me that.  I was wondering, Kathryn, what are YOU planning tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Me?  I'm not going to be in Springhill, certainly.  I'll be at lake Black Well watching the city burn at a distance.  I hope I can see the fire's glow over the trees.  Too many trees around Springhill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  M'yes.  The bigger question is, what do you expect to happen tonight, little dove?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Tonight's the 13th, and the moon will ju-u-ust about be a new moon.  Until sunrise, all lights in the town will be shut out and we will experience a Lightless Sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  You're so sure of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Have you even known me to exaggerate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  Exaggerate?  No.  Lie?  Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ha!  Watch the night, Lord Vlad-inator, and you will see.  Being a vampire, you'll likely be the only one who CAN see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vlad&lt;/span&gt;:  And afterwards, I would wager the Springhill Police force may have words with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I will burn the bridge after I cross it.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Forty-One, What are your plans tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 41&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh my God, Kagy, have I got the best thing for you and your listeners.  It's so simple you'll be scratching your head for days wondering why you've never done it before.  It's a simple program that anyone can do called Cash-Gifting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh-huh.  Cash gifting.  Isn't that an online pyramid scheme, Forty-one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 41&lt;/span&gt;:  No, absolutely not, Kagy.  It's just a simple method of making money.  It works like this.  All you need to do is take one-hundred dollars, then put it into an envelope, hide that in a magazine, then send the magazine in a package to me.  At the same time, you'll be asking the same thing of your friends who, in turn will do the exact same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  So...You want people to send you money and then have other people send THEM money...for nothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 41&lt;/span&gt;:  It's not a scam, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't remember saying that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 41&lt;/span&gt;:  It's a gift.  And I believe there is enough human kindness in the world for everyone to win this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, considering you'd be at the top, I can't imagine this as a pyramid scheme.  Thanks for showing me the way, Forty-One.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 41&lt;/span&gt;:  Just send your money to P.O. Box- [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Forty-Two.  Last words before the last show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 42&lt;/span&gt;:  In a debate between a man and a woman, is the man ever right, Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Only when she's dead.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  That's it for me tonight, dear listeners.  Assuming the town survives that next couple of nights, I'll be at the remains of the Cerulean Theatre with Mina's Movie Club where all films are all vampire movies.  This week's movie will be the Dracula, the original Bela Lugosi film.  We are a production of K.N.O.T. College radio in Springhill Oklahoma.  In the Red is produced with fear by David Orger and hosted by myself, Kathryn Guilty.  K-G.  Kagy, get it?  Stop calling about that.  Kind thank-yous to our fearless director who doesn't believe me about the lightless sky, Tom Wits, and thank yous, of course, to everyone who called in, even you.  Special thanks also to each child who listened to this or any other small time radio.  Goodnight, princes and princesses, and have very sweet nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;End with Isolated, by Chiasm&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5951325521821333786?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5951325521821333786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-plan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5951325521821333786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5951325521821333786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-plan.html' title='What&apos;s the Plan?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-6581055769257360372</id><published>2010-05-12T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T13:25:41.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Episode with Benjamin's Shrine</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segment starts with Perfect Tan, by Machines of Loving Grace&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/n-G4VsUORAM&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/n-G4VsUORAM&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, welcome back.  We were engaged in a little test, Springhill.  I want to see if you're even paying attention to my questions, so I ask you:  Springhill, What time is it?  Caller Twenty-Five, What time is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  When are we as American's going to realize that there isn't such a thing as racial profiling.  It's not political correctness when every terrorist is ACTUAL a Muslim!  I hate this PC crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow.  Poe's Law in action.  Before I hang up on you, Twenty-Five, are the Gay's unnatural?  I'm testing a theory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  'Course they are!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ladies and Gentlemen, Poe's Law states that without a show of humor, it's impossible to tell the difference between parody and fundamentalism.  Fortunately that statement has enough multisyllabic words so I'm exempt from backlash from the listeners of whom it applies.  Caller Twenty-Six, what time is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 26&lt;/span&gt;:   It's Two-Fifteen and a girl I once knew has fallen under the curse of Benjamin Franklin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alri-i-i-ight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 26&lt;/span&gt;:  She was only twenty-two and we scoffed at a shine you could only find by turning this blue screw two quarters to the left before the secret doors would open.  Inside we found all manner of tributes from book about the Free Masons to scented candles.  I even found a DVD set of Akira Kurosawa's 1954 classic, Seven Samurai.  We knew it was an earnest shrine, as if a man wished to show the strangeness and wonder of the modern world to a country's founder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 26&lt;/span&gt;:  We were cocky; especially her.  We sang and drank that night until the glass around us broke.  It wasn't a tribute, but a cynical terror.  We were bullies, the two us, and while intoxicated she formed herself in sacred shapes as a blasphemy to the church of genuine worship.  Neither of us are certain how the curse came about.  Perhaps some trap left by the shrine's creator.  An ancient Egyptian trick of some sort.  No matter the method, we both began to go mad.  After leaving, there was word about a boy or girl who killed themselves floating in the air.  No one told us, we just knew.  She began to rave that it was her fault, but I remained vigilant to reality asking for further proof of the boy or girl's original existence.  As I drove her home, it was apparent to me we were both losing our minds.  We would share illusions of grotesqueness in the shadows.  The corner of our vision filled with severed body parts and maggots.  The electric lines became something sinister with no indication.  I would constantly remind her that there was no screaming head caught on the windshield to witch she would always ask, 'if it's not real, how do you not also see it?'  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You still there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 26&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry.  I...I just miss her.  She is still alive, but succumbed to our rotted imagination.  Despite the damage to my faculties, I still remain resolute.  Reality is my God, and I, it's humble servant.  You see, it takes care of me.  She was always too confident to bow down to anything greater than herself, certain that she was in control of herself at all times.  That's the real tragedy.  If the visions remain, it only because she's certain it what she wants to see.  I tell you this as a warning, Ms. Kagy.  If in your travels of Springhill in the night you should come across an old brick building and find a shrine of any sort, please.  Pay  it respect measured by the care that went into it's creation.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he hung up&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow.  That's quite some story.  Uh...David is signaling that we need to cut to commercial.  I'll talk to you in a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-6581055769257360372?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/6581055769257360372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-with-benjamins-shrine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/6581055769257360372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/6581055769257360372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/episode-with-benjamins-shrine.html' title='The Episode with Benjamin&apos;s Shrine'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-953623721277554574</id><published>2010-05-11T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T17:45:11.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's Against the Wall When the Revolution Comes?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  My friends.  You and I are interested in the future, for that is where we will spend the rest of our lives.  Yes, future events such as these will effect you in the future.  Can you withstand the unimaginable horror of In the Red with me, Kagy?  Springhill, how have you been?  This week, we will experience a lightless sky.  Are you ready?  Am I?  Call me and talk to me before the world ends.  Tonight's question is:  Who do you want to see against the wall when the revelution comes?  Let that soak in while I play you a tune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plays Birthday, by the Cruxshadows&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZODMaH7R3Es&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZODMaH7R3Es&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, caller one, you are on.  Who do you want against the wall when the revolution comes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Advertisers.  Bunch of lying basters if you ask me!  Like telephone services.  AT&amp;amp;T says they cover 97% of all Americans!  That's impossible.  What about the one's without phones?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't think that's what they mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  What about the one's on military bases, or vacationing in the jungle somewhere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I think they mean everyone who uses cell phones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Awe no.  That is NOT what they say.  They say very CLEARLY “97% of ALL Americans.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I hate to ask, but, what cell phone company are you using?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't use cell phones!  Those things'll give you cancer!  In the head!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  So you talking on a LAN Line?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  No!  I'm using a 1950's rotary phone, like every American should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Apparently only 3% do.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Two, When the revolution comes, who would you screw?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, Kagy.  I finished building this nifty little device!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And this has to do with our topic because...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  It's a device that you just add sand and water to.  Works quietly and effectively!  You'll  love it.  You can use it around the house or in the basement or in your car!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]  So?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  So what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  So what does it do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  What do you mean?  It freezes sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It freezes sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  It's specifically designed to freeze sand.  Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Okay, you have my attention.  Please enlighten me and my audience as to the countless uses for frozen sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, you could...uh...  You could...  I mean...  Did I mention the car adapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Fabulous.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Three, What do you think of Frozen Sand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  It beats bears.  I mean the animal, not the sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I suppose so.  So who do you want against the wall when the revolution comes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  You mean the political, not the dance?  I guess I'd want Keith Oberman.  The news-guy, not the dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  There's a Dog names Keith Oberman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, Keith Doberman.  He lives just round the block.  The Dog, not the news guy.  And, oh, I mean city block, not the wooden ones.  And I mean My block, not your- [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller Four, whom I adore.  Why do you call me for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  I was pondering, as I listened to your beautiful voice, the condensation of morning dew upon the petals of a rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Awe, that's actually...sweet, Four.  How dost thou compare me to this morning dew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Dew?  DEW A BARRLE ROLL!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Pht.  Ya' got me.  Caller Five, you have arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  Springhill!  Do NOT wear your bike helmets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  Why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  They're dangerous!  I'm serious.  My friend was riding his bike with that helmet on and BAM, hit by a truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright.  How was the helmet to blame?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't know, but two year ago, my sister was wearing a helmet when she hit an ice patch on her motorcycle.  Crippled her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm not sure where you're leading with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  Okay, like, this guy on Cops was wearing a helmet when BAM!  Shot to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm sure that's not true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't know what the connection is, yet, but everyone I know who wears helmets get seriously hurt.  Those things are damage magnets, man!  Avoid Helmets at ALL costs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, that's enough of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  Fight the helmets! [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I think it's time for a break, people, but we'll be right back with helmets, barrels, and frozen sand after this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;roll commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-953623721277554574?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/953623721277554574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whos-against-wall-when-revolution-comes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/953623721277554574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/953623721277554574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/whos-against-wall-when-revolution-comes.html' title='Who&apos;s Against the Wall When the Revolution Comes?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-3342913316924693645</id><published>2010-05-10T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T11:30:08.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Would You Do With Two Hours to Live?</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments starts with I Use My Powers for Evil, by Lesbian Bed Death&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fTEfohvW0f4&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fTEfohvW0f4&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Would you believe that even I, Queen Kagy, am getting tired?  It's true!  Even the tireless night's queen get's...uh...  So let's wrap this show up.  Caller Thirty -Four, What would you do if you have two hours to live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  Are you Emo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I...hmmm...  That depresses me just enough to cut myself at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  No, I mean it.  I mean, you're all sad and stuff.  Cheer up, Emo Duck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ri-i-ight.  What makes you think I'm emo, Thrity-Four?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  You dress in all black.  You play all depressing songs and stuff.  You got this weird bondage thing going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  A:  I rarely wear all black anymore.  Not since I shocked my hair white.  B:  Morbid songs, sure; not depressing.  C:  I wear what I like to see myself in, but that doesn't make me “into bondage and stuff.”  And C:  Nothing you've described is Emo.  If anything, that sounds.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispers&lt;/span&gt;]  dare I say it, Springhill?  Goth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, what's the difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Same difference between crying in your pillow and sarcastic snark.  Next!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Thirty-Five.  You have two hours to live.  What do you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 35&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, I've thought about this long and hard and I would...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 35&lt;/span&gt;:  Do a Barrle Roll!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Seriously?  Hello, Thirty-Six.  This show can you fix?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 36&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, Kagy, can I plug something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't know, caller.  Last guy who advertised was a maniacal sadist dwarf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 36&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, I'm not selling myself like the last guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well...Okay.  Plug away, Thirty-Six.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 36&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, ladies and gentlemen out there, are you sick of the same old boring no-tell-hotel for your weekend getaways.  Well here at 13-Doors Hotel, we have the finest is multi-dimensional accommodations.  Each room has it's own link to omni-present horrors and gateways to Tartarus for you and the women folk for the relaxing get aways or incestuous trysts!  Here at 13-Doors, we don't judge!  Heck, we don't even know who you are, since all check-ins are required to where a black bag over their head.  Yes, 13-Doors Hotel, where our modo is Lleh Ni Kcoc Skcus Rehtom Ruoy.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Thanks you, Thirty Six, that wasn't creepy or maniacal at all.  Thrity-Seven Would YOU like to go to a hotel with multi-dimensional horror in every room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 37&lt;/span&gt;:  Would I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wait a second, You're the Same guy?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 37&lt;/span&gt;:  I think you underestimate the power of these CRAZY PRICES!  Kagy, we're not just talking about a unholy hell-mouth and resort, we're talking about a place you can gleefully accomplish decedent sin in complete anonymity, as long as you don't mind the unknowable nightmares within the walls. [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  How.  Okay, that was weird.  Caller Thirty-Eight, How are-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 38&lt;/span&gt;:  You can hang up on me, Kagy, but not on this fantastic deal!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Three Lines!  Three consecutive Lines!  Ugh, I'm too tired for this.  We're calling it a night.  Before we go, you should remember that every Saturday at the Cerulean Theatre, we have Mina's Movie Club.  All Vampire movies for only a buck a fright.  I'll be there, of course.  This upcoming movie is the original Dracula, with Bela Lugosi.  Lovely.  You've been listening to In the Red, a production of K.N.O.T. College Radio in Springhill, Oklahoma.  It was produced unwillingly by David Orger and I'm your host, Kathryn Guilty.  Our appreciation toward the station director, Tom Wits, and everyone who called in, even that creepy jerk earlier.  Three Lines, David!  He got in on Three Lines!  Well, thank you for listening to to K.N.O.T. As well as any small time radio.  Have very sweet nightmares, Springhill.  I know I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments ends with No One Lives Forever, by Oingo Boingo&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-3342913316924693645?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/3342913316924693645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-would-you-do-with-two-hours-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3342913316924693645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/3342913316924693645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-would-you-do-with-two-hours-to.html' title='What Would You Do With Two Hours to Live?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-2786015782531012375</id><published>2010-05-07T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T09:43:42.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Are You?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Tick Tock.  Tick Tock.  It's two-o-clock here on In the Red.  You know what that means.  Let's change the pace a little bit.  I ask you, Springhill, Where are you under the night right now?  Let that sink in while I play you a little ditty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plays Rake It In, by Imogen Heap&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eMP7Skf9DMw&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eMP7Skf9DMw&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alrighty, caller Eighteen, where are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  It's late.  I'm sitting here in my squad car with a snort of liquid courage, trying to remember the good times when my partner was still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh my.  Did we lose one of Springhill's finest, officer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  A good one fell today, Kagy.  Someone we all should feel the loss of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm sorry.  What...What was their name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  Muffin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Officer Muffin.  Um...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  He was only one year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Are you putting me on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  Death is no joke, Kagy.  No matter what you goths think.  Just think.  He was two years from retirement.  Sad.  So Sad.  Best officer hamster I've ever known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Don't hamsters live to be, like 2 years anyway?  I'm just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  Don't give me that!  Muffin was a good cop!  Next time we need to do a full cavity search, who's gonna be the one to reach into the suspect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm...gonna have to cut you off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 18&lt;/span&gt;:  You'll be sorry.  You all will.  With Muffin gone, what's life worth living?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What indeed.  Nineteen, please, oh please don't be crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Car Dealership voice, again.  I should'a guessed who it was&lt;/span&gt;]  I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh good.  Where you at, broth'a?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm deep in the sub basement of some evil masterminds house.  Classified, you understand.  Hey, Kagy, I wanted to thank you for letting me plug my resume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hmmm...You're not the dwarf from Tuesday morning, are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  I am.  Before, I was a down on his luck sadistic second bannana, but now, thanks to your show, I'm working for the cruelest man ever to call himself a rebuplican.  Of course, I can't reviel who or, you know.  I'd have to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Kill me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 19&lt;/span&gt;:  Don't mind if I do.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  There is such things as happy endings, I guess.  Twenty of plenty, where are you out under the night's thousand eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm sitting in my house with a stalk of broccoli around my neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ha!  I'd hoped to hear from you, Twenty.  How did it go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  No one noticed.  The most I got was three out of seven of my bosses shuddered when I was looking at their chin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, they noticed.  This is a game of seeing how much you can get away with.  Did you get the weekend off, at least?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  We'll see.  My wife thinks I'm crazy.   She says I must've snapped and she's calling her mother about it.  It's...it's just...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Fantastic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 20&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Heh.  Never let it be said that the world would do better off without crazy, Twenty. Stay on the line. David is going to give you the number and address for Mina's Movie Club.  I wanna see you there, okay?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  David, you got him?  Alright, Twenty-one, are you having fun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  No.  Do you realize how much damage you're doing to my son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry miss, what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  With your morally damaging music and you're free for all attitude with your show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh-huh.  How old is your son, Ma'am?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  What does that matter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's ten after two, Ma'am.  What are they...No, what are YOU doing up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  Listen, it's you kind that is deteriorating the moral fiber of our community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  How old?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 21&lt;/span&gt;:  37!  What does THAT have to do with it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Heh.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Twenty-Two, last call before we take a break.  Where are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  Still in this sub-basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ah.  More to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  Just wanted you to know that I know where you're station is, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;: Some one leaked that info to Google again, didn't they? Well, luckily our attack rats guard the entrance. Mwa Ha Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, not Rats.  I don't like rats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  How do you feel about hamster?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  They're the worse!  I fear them, ever since the master...did things to me...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Officer Muffin, we miss you.  Let's all take a moment of silence as I roll a few messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;roll a few messages&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-2786015782531012375?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/2786015782531012375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/where-are-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2786015782531012375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2786015782531012375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/where-are-you.html' title='Where Are You?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5604622859251224327</id><published>2010-05-06T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T09:16:30.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Will You Survive a Lightless Sky?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Springhill.  My nifty cell phone tells me the moon is at 49% full.  We are being swallowed into the blackest night's sky.  You need to be ready out there, Springhill.  Allow me to help.  You're listening to In the Red with me, Kagy.  Tonight's question;  How will you survive a lightless sky?  Ponder that while I play a little Real Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plays Send Me an Angel, by Real Life&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/D6zBjYIyz-0&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/D6zBjYIyz-0&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I've never seen the lines so full.  Let's see.  You.  Caller One, what have you done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, One.  How will you survive when all the lights go out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  I...don't even know what that means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  On the 13th and 14th of May, the lights will blink out under a new moon.  Don't ask me how I know, but I do want to know what you'll do when it happens?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, I don't know.  I'll probably grab a beer and get drunk.  Wait, isn't that a work night?  Crap, I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Call me when you do, sweety.  [click]  Number Two, what will YOU do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Nothing.  My life's already a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Poor boy.  Tell Grand Mistress Kagy all about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  I...Huh?  Oh, it's a rut, Kagy.  I'm in a horrible rut.  Do you know what my life is like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  A twisted reflection of society's misgivings about human freedom and happyness is a world run by the unfeeling corporate machine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  No.  Well, yeah, but no.  I live in Groundhog Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Please tell me you're talking about the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm talking about the movie.  I don't get days off, Kagy.  Every morning I wake up at 7:00 and hit the alarm.  I get dresses, turn off my TV in the living room, kiss my wife, sit in traffic behind the same car, pass by a tree with a single leaf on it, click in, my boss tells me I'm late, I sit at a cubical and I work on the same thing every week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oooo.  [whispering]  Are you going to snap, Number Two?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Thought about it.  I got the gun right here.  The Mrs. is asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, put that down.  Here's an answer to your problems.  I want you to struggle through the next couple of days, but this time I want you to wear a stalk of Broccoli around your neck like a pendant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I know it sounds crazy, and it is.  Any time someone points it out, act like it's not there and they're crazy.  If you want to have fun with them, talk to them staring at their chin.  Works wonders.  Finally, take the week end off, Two.  What ever you're working on, it's not worth your weekend.  Call me back Friday morning and tell me how that goes.  [silence]  Caller Two?  Are you going to do it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Sure.  What else have I got to lose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Good luck.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Three, so what will be be?  How will you survive a lightless sky?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  with BEEEEERRRR!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh yeah.  Cinco De Mayo.  Three, are you drunk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah, man!  WOOOO!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Do you know what Cinco De Mayo celebrates?  Or why you're so drunk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Isn't it...uh...Mexican independence, or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You're celebrating the Mexican victory of the Battle of Puebla, not Mexican Independence.  They have a separate day for that.  Talk to a Mexican, Three.  They're all over Springhill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sigh&lt;/span&gt;]  Actually, you're just using it as an excuse to get drunk.  Drink one for me, Three.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  I shouldn't talk.  I have my ever present wine, here, but at least I know why I'm drinking.  Four, just one more.  How will you survive a Lightless-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, baby.  It's Tom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh God.  Er...Tom, are you drunk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah, but only a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow, things must be pretty bleak there at the Mave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  It's not.  I just still love you, baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Woof.  I don't know if I'm nearly drunk enough for you tonight, Tom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tom&lt;/span&gt;:  Still think about you.  You know I listen in every night when I'm at the Mave.  The guys here...are just awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.  Well, that's all the time I got, Tom.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Time for a commercial.  Where the hell is that wine?  Dave, would you start screening--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Roll commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5604622859251224327?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5604622859251224327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-will-you-survive-lightless-sky.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5604622859251224327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5604622859251224327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-will-you-survive-lightless-sky.html' title='How Will You Survive a Lightless Sky?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-1151737655336725935</id><published>2010-05-05T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T09:31:44.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should Auto-Canibalism Be Illeagal?</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segment starts with Blue, by Birthday Massacre&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kp1FRKc24Zk&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kp1FRKc24Zk&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  As with every morning, the sun will eventually rise, and yes, even you're painfully beautiful host must sleep.  Before that, let's finish off the night with what few callers are left.  Caller Thirty-Six, staying with the mix.  Should Auto-cannibalism be illegal in Oklahoma?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 36&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes.  No wait, No.  Uh...Kinda?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You don't sound sure, Thirty-Six.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 36&lt;/span&gt;:  What's auto-cannibalism again?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Thirty-Seven, What IS Auto-cannibalism?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 37&lt;/span&gt;:  A better question is weather we should be allowed to marry animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 37&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, that's your opinion, but some of-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I mean, no it's not a better question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 37&lt;/span&gt;:  Listen, me and Barbra are in Love!  Can you understand that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm going to regret asking, but who is Barbra?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 37&lt;/span&gt;:  My cat.  The most beautiful cat in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You...Uh...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Wow.  Thirty-Eight, it's getting late.  What do you have to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 38&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Kagy.  It's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Who ARE you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 38&lt;/span&gt;:  The dude at the power plant.  I was just sit'n here, listening to your pretty voice again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 38&lt;/span&gt;:  Thinking about us maybe on a beach somewhere.  The sound of the ocean drowning out civilization around us.  The Sand would be warm to the touch as the cool waves brush across our toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, at least it's not a console.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 38&lt;/span&gt;:  The warm breeze in your white hair.  ME in a set of sunglasses and swim trunks, you in just the sunglasses.  [click]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I can't get RID of this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  [you can barely hear him since he didn't have a mic.  If you listened to the show, this is what he was saying]  I like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  He brings drama to the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You gotta be Kidding!  David, my producer is here.  Can't we screen for him or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David&lt;/span&gt;:  You said not to screen calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Growls&lt;/span&gt;]  Caller Thirty-Nine, any last words before I wrap up the show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 39&lt;/span&gt;:  Okay, Ma'am.  This is going to sound weird, but I'm trapped on a desert island and my radio can only pick up your stations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  We gotta go soon, Thrity-Nine.  Any last words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 39&lt;/span&gt;:  No, really.  I need you to send help.  I've worked out the co-ordinates and they're lat-[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No time.  Well, that wraps it up for tonight, fair listeners.  Join me tomorrow morning as every week morning, while I drown in callers and music.  Remember, I also show up at the Cerulean Theatre on campus on Saturday nights for Mina's Movie Club.  This week's movie is going to be Perfect Creature.  In the Red is a production of K.N.O.T. College Radio.  It is produced, with honors, by my friend David Orger, and I'm your host, Kathryn Guilty.  Thanks go to our station director, Tom Wits, and everyone, absolutely everyone, who called in.  Finally thanks to everyone who listens to K.N.O.T. and/or small time radio of any kind.  Good night, children and have yourself sweet nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ends with the Horror of our Love, by Ludo&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-1151737655336725935?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/1151737655336725935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/segment-starts-with-blue-by-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/1151737655336725935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/1151737655336725935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/segment-starts-with-blue-by-birthday.html' title='Should Auto-Canibalism Be Illeagal?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-8368473003755526848</id><published>2010-05-04T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T08:21:54.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Patience a Vitue?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  The new moon is coming.  A black dot in the sky of black.  Gorgeous.  When the moon wanes, I like to wax philosophical, so at this mid point of the show I ask you, Springhill;  Is Patience a virtue?  I'll let you tell me in a second...or just vent your mind, but first, this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plays Fall No More, by Bella Morte&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller Twenty-Two, you are on and, is patience a virtue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow, someone stayed on topic.  Why not, Twenty-Two?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 22&lt;/span&gt;:  I don't have time to explain.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  So much for conversation.  Twenty-Three, how about thee?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  Hey, Kagy, it's me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Oh, no!  Not you!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  Wait.  Who are you, again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, sorry.  I'm the census guy from last week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  The survivor.  Yes.  Any psychopathic encounters, Twenty-Three?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  God, I wish.  At least it's not awkward running from freaks.  No, I got another grief.  Today I was talking to a fellow, we'll call him X, cuz the U.S. Government doesn't like people knowing their names, and he was arguing that gays don't count when taking a census.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bursts out laughing&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 23&lt;/span&gt;:  Listen, people.  It's a Census.  We're trying to figure out how many of what kind of people there are in the U.S. And YES, fucking gays count.  My God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  The more you know.  [plays 'The More You Know' theme]  And welcome to Springhill Oklahomophobic, Caller.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  Twenty-Four, Patience.  Is it a virtue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, hey.  I'm new in town and I figured I'd call to orient myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  TELL ME NOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...I don't know.  Yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, Twenty-Four, where are you from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, I just moved up from Varkmore down south?  Along I-35?  You know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Thankfully not.  But what's your question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh.  Okay, you seem to be in the know around here.  I live around the edge of Campus and wondered if there's anything I should know.  Cuz, you know.  New town and all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  It's not a problem.  Just remember the following:  Stay off the bike paths or you will be run over.  Always tell the Clock-Lady it's twelve past ten AM.  You'll know her when she talks to you.  Never try to argue with Crazy Bob.  And the Rawhide Roll-Players meet every Friday night at the Student Center.  Trust me, you'll need to meet them, even if you don't R.P.G.  They're like the Sprinhill Mafia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  There always seems to be a Crazy Bob in these towns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, we don't know his real name.  A-a-and before I forget; do not, under any circumstances, juggle in front of the Student Library between three and five PM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ooo.  Just trust me on this.  I admit it isn't likely to happen, but the last guy lost both his corneas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 24&lt;/span&gt;:  Huh?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Twenty Five, we're still alive.  Is Patience a Virtue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this guy's voice scares me because he sounds like a dealership commercial&lt;/span&gt;]  Kagy, hi.  Can I plug something here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  By all means.  Ignore the larger questions of life and philosophy to advertise.  What would I know about talk shows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  K, thanks.  Springhill, I'm a dwarf at 4 feet, 3 inches,  but I have a keen knowledge of torture and interrogations and I have a maniacal laugh.  My main skills are that of cranial manipulations and enough medical knowledge to keep a victim conscious for maximum infliction of pain until the final door closes.  Though I am straight, I can work on either sexes.  I'm currently seeking employment.  I have served under the finest of criminal sadists and terrorists including Jeffery Gacy, the Hacksaw Killer, the Blood Sucking Freak, and many others.  If you have a need for a man such as me, be it for legitimate purposes or not, I would love to serve under the right mastermind as long as the pay is good.  I have a resume on Monster.com, but the best way to contact me is by phone.  My cell is area code XXX-XXX-XXXX.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wo-ow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 25&lt;/span&gt;:  Thanks, Kagy.  I'll see you soon.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  So...While I'm calling the police, I'll just leave you with these messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Roll commercials&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-8368473003755526848?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/8368473003755526848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-patience-vitue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/8368473003755526848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/8368473003755526848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-patience-vitue.html' title='In Patience a Vitue?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-8282186576241558675</id><published>2010-05-03T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T07:16:15.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Have I Got in My Pocket?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Springhill.  You're radio is now under Kagy control and you must listen to In the Red, with me, Kagy.  My friend and producer, David, was kind enough to slip a bottle of Cru Beaujolais in the window before coming in the front door so I'm ready for the night, now.  My wine glass has an eye of Horus on it.  The secret word of the night is 'blue' and the questions I have for you is:  What have I got in my pocket?  As always, I'll be taking your calls, any and all, but before that, let's warm up with a little Blue Oyster Cult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plays Harvester of Eyes, by Blue Oyster Cult&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, caller one, let's start the fun.  What have I got in my pocket?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, hi.  Um...can you help me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Depends, One.  What's your 'boggle?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, I have this iMac and I've been working on it all night, you know, surfing the net?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You sound like Darren.  What's wrong with it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Well, I was in the middle of a net conference-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Conference?  This late at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  One, I can't help you if you're not truthful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]  All right, I'm on World of Warcraft.  Anyway, I was in the middle of a horde raid when I got this blue screen of death.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  This isn't Tech Support, and I'm not Darren.  Caller Two, we'll get this through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Is it an ankh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Why an Ankh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  You know.  Cuz' of the Eye of Horus thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Good guess, but no.  [click]  Now let's see.  Three, what could it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;imagine the thickest okie accent you can.  I couldn't spell most of what he said&lt;/span&gt;]  Kagy, I wanna tell you about a major problem with this country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh no.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  A politician.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  It's gun control.  This whole ruckus with guns causing crime to skyrocket.  [sound of a dog barking in the background]  When are you people going to understand that guns aren't evil, people?  They're tools, like hammers or cars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Tools?  Alright, Three, what do you use your gun for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Barking still going on&lt;/span&gt;]  Lots of things!  I shoot it, I...uh...  Oh, I can use it as a hammer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wouldn't it be cheaper to just buy a hammer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Still, with the barking&lt;/span&gt;]  Yeah, well that's not all.  I can drill holes in stuff I'm building!  I can turn off my T.V. from across the room!  I can SHUT THE FUCKING DOG UP!!!  Uh...Yeah, where was I?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Creepy.  Caller Four, do you have anything more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Hi!  Good I got in.  Kagy I want to ask you a question.  You're a goth, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  That would be a pretty arrogant claim, Four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  What's with your obsession with dog collars?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hmm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  I was at Hastings yesterday standing in line when I saw these two Halloween rejects, and one of them was wearing a dog collar with a bell on it.  Why would someone do that?  What is she, a dog?  Do you goths act like dogs?  Should we be painting our fire hydrants black for you people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wait...Was she wearing a green bodice with a white dress and white hair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  How did you know?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  That was me, you idiot.  Curse this small town!  Five, do you hate me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  No.  I uh...Hey, can you play that one song again?  The country remix of Gen and Juice that you played Thursday night?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I am Kagy.  I don't do requests.  Ugh.  Six, you wanna get in this mix?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 6&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, Hi.  Did that guy just say he got a Blue Screen of Death?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ah, it's Darren, of Malkavia.  Yes, I think he did.  I was honestly not paying-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  That's impossible!  He was using a Mac!  They have completely different errors!  What was this guy, and idiot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh boy.  Darren, would you like me to get his number?  So you two love birds can talk about computers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  I'm just saying.  I bet the guy loves his USB cup holder.  Jeez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Alright, I'm game.  Caller One, if you're still listening, call back.  I have a late night date for you.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  In the mean time; Seven, any final words before I switch out to commercial?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 7&lt;/span&gt;:  Do a Barrel Roll! [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Well at least I know I have one dedicated listener.  Ugh.  The director said I could do anything I want as long as I played these messages.  Talk to you in a moment, Springhill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;commercial time&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-8282186576241558675?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/8282186576241558675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-have-i-got-in-my-pocket.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/8282186576241558675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/8282186576241558675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-have-i-got-in-my-pocket.html' title='What Have I Got in My Pocket?'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-6006225955231699656</id><published>2010-04-30T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T06:57:46.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How My Show Ends</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note:  Again, this is from the NEXT night.  Thursday.  Pick up on this trend, please.  Also, regarding profanity:  In the Red hit's the air about one minute after our calls are received so we can bleep out cursing by the callers.  However, I'm assuming you are not all fanatical Christian old ladies, so I unbleep them as I write the transcripts.&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Segments starts with Maenam, by Jami Sieber, better know from the Braid video game&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller 31, we're nearly done.  We're talking about South Park Censorship.  Talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  Let's me tell you something.  I can't stand this town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  No no.  Feel free to stomp over my well thought up nightly question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Nothing.  Why is Springhill a problem, 31?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  I'll tell you why.  I'm work for the Oklahoma Census Bereau and every day I have to knock on the doors of people who can't spend ten minutes to fill out a simple questionnaire and send it back to America, which isn't the problem.  The problem is this crazy town!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What's wrong with Springhill, Caller?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  Haven't you noticed?  There's something wrong with this place!  I'll give you an example.  Today, I knocked on this old man's door, right?  Real nice guy.  He let's me in; offers me tea;  polite as a man can be.  His decor was a little messed up, but I've seen worse.  Looked like he was a big game hunter or something, cuz everything was leather, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh-huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  So I ask him a simple question; “How many people are in the house hold?”  Right?  He asks back, “Does the furniture count?”  And I'm all like, “What?  It's Furniture.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hmmm...Senile, was he?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  No!  I was sitting on human leather!  Only in Springhill, man.  Only in Springhill.  The rest of the day was filled with what you'd expect.  Running and hiding in old barns filled with meat hooks, chainsaw wielding maniacs wearing human-skin, deranged trailer park inhabitants.  You know the drill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow, that's some story, Thirty-one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 31&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, and speaking of drills- [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  My night is filled with these people, folks.  Thirty-two.  South Park.  What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 32&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Kagy.  I have a poem for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ooo.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Poetry.  Gimme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 32&lt;/span&gt;:  Roses are red...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh.  It's you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 32&lt;/span&gt;:  ...violets are blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 32 and Kagy at once&lt;/span&gt;:  I'll rape you with a rake! [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sometimes I wish I could block calls with this equipment.  Caller thirty-three, care to comment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 33&lt;/span&gt;:  Kagy, you ready for tomorrow night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, Hey!  It's Dr. Nick.  Yes.  Game on.  I'll have to shuffle around for my character, but sure.  We LARPing or table top tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Table: the Requium. Oh, and I'm making chili.&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note:  for the curious, we play Vampire.  What else?&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Chili!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  I love chili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Huh?  But...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  Chili.  Gimme chili.  I want chili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  But...Aren't you, like, the goth'iest girl in Oklahoma or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What?  Chili is goth.  It's very VERY Goth.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]  Because it's...Hmmm...dark red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I like to imagine I'm eating human meat with a side of blood.  Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow.  Just Wow, Kagy.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Sorry about that personal conversation, folks.  Let's finish off with one last caller.  Thirty-Four, any last words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yawn&lt;/span&gt;]  Yeah.  Play some real music!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ah, a debate of semantics.  Let's me guess.  Country and Western fan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.  I mean, this is God's country you're in, little girl.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yawn&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You sound pretty tired there, Pops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 34&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh, sorry.  It's just late, you know?  I'm just...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yawn&lt;/span&gt;]  Man.  So yeah.  Let's hear some Joe Nichols.  Some Time McGraw.  Throw in some Reba, man.  I can't take this Halloween shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I understand, sir.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sound of me rummaging through CDs&lt;/span&gt;]  You just lay back in your tractor seat and shut you're eyes.  I'll take care of you in true Oklahoma fashion.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]  I know what you're thinking, my friends.  Kagy with Country music?  But it's alright.  We're the minority, and it pays to show a little respect to the raw-hides in “God's Country.”  I'll return to Cruxshadows and Bauhaus tomorrow morning.  Remember, I'll be at Mina's Movie Club at the Cerulean Theatre on campus this Saturday as every Saturday for vampire movies.  This week they'll be showing Pale Blood, so look forward to that.  Meet me back here tomorrow at 1:00 in the AM.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;country music starts playing&lt;/span&gt;]  In the Red is a production of K.N.O.T. College Radio.  It is produced, loosely, by my friend David Orger, and I'm your host, Kathryn Guilty.  Thanks go to our station director, Tom Wits, and everyone who called in, yes even you, and finally everyone who listens to K.N.O.T. and/or small time radio of any sort.  Good night, children and have very sweet nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Show ends with Gen and Juice, by The Gourds&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-6006225955231699656?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/6006225955231699656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/how-my-show-ends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/6006225955231699656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/6006225955231699656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/how-my-show-ends.html' title='How My Show Ends'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-4743225234531296876</id><published>2010-04-29T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T06:54:00.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Middle of a Show</title><content type='html'>[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note:  This is from the next night, fellows.&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This segment began with Ghost (Beneath the Surface), by Machinae Supremacy&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Thank you Machinae.  The only band to make Comadore 64s sexy-cool.  The little chronometer here in my fingers tells me we're half way through the show, this Thursday morning, so let's change the question and ask what everyone's dodging.  Does the new administration make you want to cry black tears?  Mr. Twelve, what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 12&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello.  Is this Kagy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  This is she.  What do you think of Obama, Twelve?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 12&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh my God, I got in?  I mean, I'm on the radio, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 12&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow!  I mean, I didn't think I'd get in!  I mean, Wow.  Can...You know, do you think the rest of my family can hear me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Not unless they suffer from insomnia.  It's two in the morning, Twelve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 12&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah, but you don't understand.  I never win at Anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Win?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 12&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.  I mean, I win something, yeah?  I mean, I'm just happy I got on the radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ri-i-ight.  Well, Twelve, anything you want my tens-of-listeners to hear, as long as you're on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 12&lt;/span&gt;:  Uh...Uh...Uh...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  You have nothing to fear but stage fright, Tweleve.  Thirteen, what do you think of Obama?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 13&lt;/span&gt;:  Yar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh.  Are you a pirate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 13&lt;/span&gt;:  YAR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I see.  And what do you think of Ninjas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 13&lt;/span&gt;:  YAAAARR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Uhm...Hmmm...Tell me, Pirate.  What be your favorite letter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 13&lt;/span&gt;:  Er...ARRREEE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And what's the thing you drive around in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 13&lt;/span&gt;:  CAAARRRRR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Twinkle Twinkle little...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 13&lt;/span&gt;:  STAAAARRRRRR! [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  That's all I can take of that.  Alright, Fourteen.  Obama.  What's the scene?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 14&lt;/span&gt;:  More like, YOU'RE Obama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Excuse me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 14&lt;/span&gt;:  You're Momma's Obama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  What are you, ten?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 14&lt;/span&gt;:  Don't make me Obama you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  ...What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 14&lt;/span&gt;:  I got your Obama right HERE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Do you have a point, Fourteen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 14&lt;/span&gt;:  Um...These aren't the Obamas you're looking for.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Ugh.  Fifteen.  I'm too tired to rhyme.  What do you got?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 15&lt;/span&gt;:  Omagod, Omagod.  Kagy, do you have your laptop near you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Darren, my Malkavian friend.  No, I don't bring it to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Giraffes fighting!  And I mean they're really REALLY tearing into each other!  It's on Digg right now!  You gotta see this.  It's incredible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Giraffes fighting.  How do Giraffes fight, Darren?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren: &lt;/span&gt;It's head-butt city, Kagy.  And I mean, they whacking the hell out'a each other.  I figured they'de be kicking, but no.  They're planted on the ground with their legs spread to keep from being toppled over and they pushing one another and using their necks to smack the hell out'ta each other.  It's crazy.  You gotta see this.  You gotta see this now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow, Darren.  That's...huh.  Anything else before you go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Darren&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh...uh...Also, rabbits can regrow their own naughty parts.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Informative.  Fifteen, can YOU stay on topic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 15&lt;/span&gt;:  No.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  At least your were honest.  Caller sixteen, any last words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 16&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow!  I made it on again?!  I...I cant believe this!  I won!  I won!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  There isn't enough alcohol in the world tonight, folks.  Ponder on that while I cut to commercial.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-4743225234531296876?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/4743225234531296876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/middle-of-show.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/4743225234531296876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/4743225234531296876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/middle-of-show.html' title='Middle of a Show'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-2473895958113663498</id><published>2010-04-28T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T06:46:03.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How the Show Starts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Good morning, barely.  You're listening to In the Red with me, Kagy, on K.N.O.T.  The moon is just over the studio right about...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]...now and I've got a classy bottle of vino I snuck in under my dress where the director never dares to look.  Today, I thought I would ask, “What's keeping you up, Springhill?”  What do you have to be awake about at one in the morning.  As usual, I'll take your calls, but first, a spring time song for my Springhill friends.  This is Tom Lehrer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plays Poisoning Pigeons in the Park by Tom Lehrer&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  The wine is not so classy, after all.  It's really bad, but it's all I have.  A little motivation, Springhill.  I have a few lights lit on my board.  Perhaps you can drive me to drink the rest of this swill.  Caller One, you are on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;eating noise&lt;/span&gt;]  Hey, Kagy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello.  Enjoying a little late night snack, I hear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah, about that.  I'm actually calling about last night's show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  “The strangest thing you've eaten?”  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispers&lt;/span&gt;] Are you eating it right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Huh?  No.  This is just snake.  Nah, I'll tell you the worse thing I've eaten.  Spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  I...Spiders?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Spider.  Just one.  It was a dare.  I swear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Was it poisonous?  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whispers&lt;/span&gt;]  Was it...Delicious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Nah, not poisonous, but I did need to go to the hospital and have my stomach pumped.  No big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  And was it worth...wait.  No big deal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 1&lt;/span&gt;:  Nah, they all know me there.  Send me Christmas cards an stuff.  I have it done regularly; mostly due to the dare I get to eat things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Wow.  I don't think I can stand you any more.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Click&lt;/span&gt;]  Next caller.  Number Two, what do you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  I run the power plant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Oh No.  Not you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Wait, Kagy.  Don't hang up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Can you behave yourself, Two?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes, Ma'am.  See, I wanna apologize for last night.  I was out'ta line when I said I wanted to see you bent over my control console.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes, I don't need reminding, Two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 2&lt;/span&gt;:  Just bent over.  Flashing light showing off your beautiful bod- [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Three, don't disappoint me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 3&lt;/span&gt;:  Do a Barrel Roll!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller Four whom I adore.  What are you up so late for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Hunt'n.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;also whispering&lt;/span&gt;]  Oh, I see.  What are we hunt'n today, four?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  The most dangerous prey of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Oooo.  Are you going to eat what you shoot, like Ted Nugent?  Or, I guess in this case, Ted Bundy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  No, not that kind of hunt.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;] Um...Yeah, actually, I guess it is.  Listen.  This jack-ass was wining about the Annalow Oxen.  Right now, I'm sneaking up on him, an I'm gonna give'm a pounding for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  OUR Annalow Oxen?  But football isn't in season.  What did he say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Said Charlie 'Nutcase' Smighter must'a been brain damaged, cuz he sits and stares at the wall before, after, and during a game, but I know better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Oh.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pause&lt;/span&gt;]  Are you close to him, yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  So close I can smell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whisper&lt;/span&gt;]  Good.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yelling&lt;/span&gt;]  Smighter is a freak'n Slob who deserves to be sacked in hell forever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  WHAT?  You take that back, you BITCH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Guy in the background&lt;/span&gt;:  Wha?  YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 4&lt;/span&gt;:  Awe, hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Guy in the background&lt;/span&gt;:  Crap!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;voice fading&lt;/span&gt;]  Smighter deserves to be thrown off the team you idoiiiiiit...[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Caller Five, you are Live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  Hello, Kathryn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  Tom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Caller 5&lt;/span&gt;:  Yeah.  It's me.  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;click&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kagy&lt;/span&gt;:  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;gulping noise&lt;/span&gt;]  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;gasp&lt;/span&gt;]  That would be the last of the wine.  I'll leave you with our sponsors while I grab another bottle to try to drown out the horrible memories of my ex husband.  You're listening to K.N.O.T.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-2473895958113663498?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/2473895958113663498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/how-show-starts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2473895958113663498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/2473895958113663498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/how-show-starts.html' title='How the Show Starts'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1553678174768689348.post-5233479277056462699</id><published>2010-04-27T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T16:59:40.334-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='opening'/><title type='text'>A Prelude</title><content type='html'>Hello, All.  I've been working for KNOT in Spinghill Oklahoma for a saddening 5 years.  I thought it would be fun to share some of the transcripts with the awesome anonymous internet that surrounds and engulfs us all.  May we drown together in information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet me at the buoy and I'll tell you a tale.  Well.  A something.  And if you enjoy yourself, I've done my job.  If not, there are other islands to swim to, here's a compass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And though the static walls around me,&lt;br /&gt;you were out there and you found me.&lt;br /&gt;I've been out there listening all the time."&lt;br /&gt;-Are You Out There, by Dar Williams&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1553678174768689348-5233479277056462699?l=knotinthered.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/feeds/5233479277056462699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/prelude.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5233479277056462699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1553678174768689348/posts/default/5233479277056462699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://knotinthered.blogspot.com/2010/04/prelude.html' title='A Prelude'/><author><name>Grimwit</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
