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The Essay
Show #37
A Sea Full of Murk
David Gunn
Until the late 1980s, many scientific notions born of didactically eliptical reasoning proved, after exposing them to radio waves such as these, to be patently untrue. The Hypothesis of Unrefined Relativity comes to mind. What at first seemed to be pretty good science disintegrated into a badly awry logicgram when basic radiophonics entered the equation, all while other safer theories stood by in helpless abashment. The Retrograde Gangerdoppler Effect and the Space-Time Continental Drift Enigma also were transformed from good, honest speculation to scientific dirt when a single radio wave, disguised as an inverted Fibonacci sequence, stepped into the picture. What were once savory abstractions propounded in what was construed to be good taste were forever stigmatized by the work of invisible tendrils of communicative radio floss. These days, Science as we know it is much more circumspect, and any new idea is carefully groomed by laboratory assistants who hold MAs in public relations, the better to prepare for the challenge of even minor broadcast interference. This assures you, the listener, that any scientific opinions you hear on our program will be of the highest possible calibre, and suitable for discussing in mixed company. That said, at this time we are suspending transmission of a new feature, Science Chat, even before a single word is uttered. No further details are currently available.

Bon radio. The sea was full of murk. Serious murk. Not the hello-goodbye murk of egocentric rats crashing a disco party, nor the extemporaneously sullen murk of welfare babies at a trade show. Rather, it was the murk of a thousand testy coal miners crowding into the Ottawa Sauna two days before the Solstice. Hot and luckless birds cleaved the swarthy sky, their wingtips singed by the milky Mulligan spew. Trollers atop nearby fishing barges were forced to cut bait, lest the angry oceanic maw swallow their livelihoods hook, line and sphincter. Yet frogs by the pondful sasheyed across the withery water with no more effort than it took to hurdle plankton. And down at the bottom of it all -- beneath contempt, if you will -- lounged Felix Mendelssohn, a composer celebrating his 193rd birthday today who dabbled in the avant-garde years before such practices were deemed fashionable. Now I know a lot of you out there, as well as one or two here in the sesqui-studio, are saying dubiously: Felix Mendelssohn? An avant- gardner? It's true that he knocked out his share of swashbuckling melodies, but listen once to a recently unearthed excerpt from his incidental music to "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

An incidental excerpt from music of Felix Mendelssohn, as realized by the Fibonacci Galyak Players of Milwaukee, on Episode 37 of Kalvos & Damian's New Music Sesquihour, this portion of which is chock full of hidden meanings which will be identified during the portion of the program known as le flambeau oriange.

Guests abound on today's show, as does the usual dearth of snacks, so happy birthday, Wilhelm Trubner, sorry to hear of your demise, Sweyn Forkbeard, and let's put your tax dollars to work with the onset of the euphonious rantings of Kalvos.