"TO SEE THINGS IN THE SEED-- THAT IS GENIUS." -Lao Tzu. Many things come to be newly born in the depths of space, an ontogeny of singular presence. Within molecular clouds, relatively dense concentrations of interstellar gas and dust stretch where the temperature hovers just above Absolute Zero. There, streaming gases become molecular, and atoms bind together. CO and H2 are the most common molecules in interstellar gas clouds, where deep cold also causes gas to clump to high densities. When hyper-concentration reaches a certain essential mass, stars form and begin to blaze, as the supremely concentrated parts of the cloud core collapse under their own mighty, megalo-gravitic weight. Such ultra-concentrated cores typically possess around 104 solar masses in the form of gas and dust. The central cores, nuclei denser than the outer cloud, are first to undergo pre-stellar collapse, fragmenting into massive clumps around 0.1 parsecs in size, about the equivalent of 10 to 50 Solar masses. These embryonic clumps then develop into proto-stars, and are fully fledged in circa 10 million years, from unimaginable cold to greater than white-hot heat, the unstoppable hydrogen-helium fusion reaction which persists and endures through lustrums and epicycles, pulsations of Cosmic Time. Before four hours elapse but after three, the show concludes. Dr. H. Owll performs "The Hitchhiker" by Roald Dahl in its entirety. Puzzling Evidence chimes in toward the end. Submitted questions are answered, donations received. Mob Meattie, yours shall be answered on April 12th. Next week while Dr. H. Owll is far, far away from life-zone habitable California in remote, deep cold, a re-run will be in place, ideally superseded by Puzzling Evidence with lusty, bawling, newborn sound.

...IN THE SMALL METROPOLIS PARK near the DAILY PLANET building was an interval of time well exploited by his superior intellect. The alien being, human-shaped by cosmic forces of convergent evolution, had reasons of his own for refreshing himself, during his isolation surrounded by many, by maintaining all his activities while enjoying an intellectual game of a vast imposture, one stretching far beyond the playful trope of a false identity. As for this episode of the Show, we featured the poetry of Dylan Thomas and Samuel Taylor Coleridge; we attended and presented the recent SxSW Interview with Sacred Scribe Ivan Stang and SubGenius Documentary-maker Sandy Boone, via a virtual re-creation, in which it seems we lost the entirety of our easily-bored listening audience, and heard J.R.R. Tolkien read eloquently from his own works on the death of Boromir, the Lament for Boromir.
The older brother of Faramir, Boromir was known in Gondor for his greatness as a warrior and champion, having already achieved knightly merit in Gondor prior to the Council of Elrond. The eldest son of Denethor II, who was Steward of Gondor during the War of the Ring, and his wife Finduilas, he was admired even by the equestrian people of Rohan, particularly Éomer.
Boromir was born in the year TA 2978, the eldest child of Denethor II (the penultimate Steward of Gondor) and his wife Finduilas, and would have taken over as Steward after Denethor's death, had he lived. When Boromir was only ten years old, his mother died. Consequently, his father became a grim person and visibly displayed a preference for Boromir over his younger brother. Despite this fact, Boromir was most fraternally close to Faramir, and typically looked after his interests. He devoted himself to leading his people and fought in the battle for the eastern part of Osgiliath. He, his brother, and two others were the only survivors of the unit that held the bridge until its destruction; they had to swim the river Anduin to preserve their lives. Although KrOB and Puzzling Evidence were present at the Show, once again neither would deign to speak.

WITH THE POETRY of J.R.R. Tolkien (marred by forgetfulness), Dylan Thomas and David Erdreich (from MR. E'S MYSTERY). A ramble through questions and answers. Advanced SubGenius studies-- a suggested curriculum. Family life of the large Tyrannosaurs. Gwangi and Kali. KrOB and Puzzling Evidence-- but not salaryman Michael Peppe, though hope springs eternal for his return...

...AND ARE THANKFUL FOR YOUR DONATIONS. Here on the Ask Dr. Hal! Show-Live-on- Radio we appreciate receiving your mailed-in queries. Sometimes it happens that we may temporarily mis-file a letter, though, which we deeply regret doing... take heart-- your question will be answered on an upcoming show. Reverend Dick Mauve of Conway, South Carolina, though we didn't get to your inquiry, we WILL take care of it in our very next podcast. This time, once again we had no guests in the Studio and put out a "solo" performance. This presentation was the standard three hours in length, but here we include the subsequent hour so you may download the after-show, up to the point Robo-DJ takes over.

...AND TRYING TO PROVIDE a full-bodied Show on our own, this is what we came up with. See, both KrOB and Puzzling Evidence were apparently P.O.'d at us and wouldn't come in, the reason being that we didn't make it into the Puz-Ev Show on KPFA 94.1 FM a number of hours earlier. Why not? Well, wily Pete Goldie gave us to understand that by mutual agreement between himself and those guys, we were not to make the usual exciting train trip to Berkeley with the reeking, unhinged Last Train buskers and predators, but instead repair to towering Reloadio, there to transact the KPFA Show business via remote link. Yet somehow that link never did seem to link, and now frozen silence is the only response to our inquiries from our former confreres. Well sir, we did have a great time that night/morning in Reloadio Tower, though. But thus later in solitude we transmitted our own podcast afterwards. Among other things we featured the 1945 Lux Radio Theater production (No. 488) of THE CANTERVILLE GHOST by Oscar Wilde, starring Charles Laughton and Margaret O'Brien. A few years back we were working in Hollywood on a script about Oscar Wilde. The studio, our employer, gave us the disc of this show among other possibly helpful materials. Being quite familiar with Wilde's haunting, beautiful (and funny) story, we didn't play it at the time. Friday night, faced with a co-hostless show, we thought we would play the disc, expecting an entertaining version of the story. What we got was scratchy and frequently interrupted by ads for Lux soap, and did not have, we found, anything more than a superficial resemblance to Wilde's story at best-- the adaptation by Edwin Blum shoehorned in all sorts of crap about "lovable" G.I.s stationed in wartime England, distorting the whole venture into propaganda-infused Low Comedy. But, having started, we gritted our remaining teeth and let it play. So there's that, and the usual poems and mix. Just three hours this time, though...

THE KISI APP was on the Fritz again, but a Lady appeared who let us in. Actually, while malfunctioned that most un-digital means of ingress, a KEY to the building was momentarily available in a lock-box attached to the door. We had help ere we could use it, as said, but for one brief, shining moment there was a sure and anxiety-free means to get in and do our show. But now, things are back to the Old Normal and fidgeting, over-designed computer systems must be surmounted by the Night People if they wish to get in. A historical presentation on San Francisco's FIRST Chicken John, the hook-handed, brawling "Shanghai Chicken" gave way to the Ragtime Era's traditional tale of passion and murder, "Frankie and Johnny." We worked to present Keats's Eve of St. Agnes, but periodic interruptions took their toll. Puzling Evidence and KrOB settled in and the Show passed from our tentacles to a sound-effects-dominated live mixing session... Ask Dr. Hal! itself, it may be estimated, lasted until about 2:00 AM, P.S.T. And so it goes. Better luck next session, next month, Fate (and Kisi) permitting...

SIX HOURS with Puzzling Evidence, after a while, and, later,KrOB. Rain fell.

Calico Pie,
The little Birds fly
Down to the calico tree;
Their wings were all blue,
And they sang 'Tilly-loo!'
Till away they all flew,--
And they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!

Calico Jam,
The little Fish swam,
Over the Syllabub Sea.
He took off his hat,
To the Sole and the Sprat,
And the Wallaby-Wat--
But he never came back to me!
He never came back!
He never came back!
He never came back to me!

Calico Ban,
The little Mice ran,
To be ready in time for tea,
Flippity-flup,
They drank it all up,
And danced in the cup...
But they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!

Calico Drum,
The Grasshoppers come,
The Butterfly, Beetle, and Bee,
Over the ground,
Around and around,
With a hop and a bound!
But they never came back to me...
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me! --Edward Lear.

PULLED BY A POWERFUL NEW YORK CENTRAL 4-6-0, the Show rattles along the tracks of reminiscence as Puzzling Evidence and Dr. H. Owll converse about vanished worlds. We pass the Reloadio Express running the other way. After the first hour of Saturday more remains, but we pull in before the turning of Two O'clock in the morning, and Robo-DJ is invoked and at work before then. An easy, un-interrupted trip. Two wheezing geezers mine their beezers, and render unto Caesar what is Caesar's. Just to pass the time away.

THE "APP" ONCE AGAIN wouldn't open the door-- It told us "No Wi-Fi" as it had before. We were stuck in the street and we couldn't get in-- The icy rain fell. We were soaked to the skin. And we muttered, "That's all we can take of this crap-- We'll tell them just what they can do with their App!" Then, a mad homeless woman, a menacing hag, Tried to grab and make off with our radio bag! If Dusty's "sub" hadn't just then left the place, We'd have never got in! What a freaking disgrace! The DOOR has a KEYHOLE! Can't we have a KEY? This Kisi App thing is as dumb as can be! Well, we rushed up the stairs, with the Start Time now passed, But still hoping to take up our RV Podcast, We burst into the Studio, only to find All the cords and connectors we had to unwind! The Board was quite jumbled, the mics wouldn't start-- The set-up was messed up, and all torn apart! We were already late, so while playing a song, We frantically tried to find out what was wrong. With the Intro all bungled, we started at last-- What a way to mess up our own special podcast... After that, it got better-- "Puzz" brought in a Guest. That's right-- MICHAEL PEPPE, the famous, the best. From then on the Show fell like plums in our lap, But, man! how we loathe that twice-dammed Kisi App!

...AND PLENTY MORE. The poetry of Dylan Thomas, the music of Robin Coomer and Sam Bass as Loop! Station, reports from the field of SubGenius activities, including first word on the reception of The SubGenius (Documentary) Movie. Edward Lear's "The Jumblies." Archival Material from times past. A venomous rant by Mr. Francis E. Dec. "Monsters Attack Jerry Lewis!" Robert Heinlein's "All You Zombies" retold. And still more. Eventually, Puzzling Evidence, and later (around Midnight) KrOB, visit the show-- but we expend great effort to keep from turning into Nose Hair Lint Gland, and eventually do bring the peripatetic duo from the ensorcelment of their glowing screens to speak, actually speak, into the microphones. Later, from the realm of Current Events, President Don Drumpf makes a special announcement. So, we prevailed! Yes, the Kisi App dingfutzer failed, but we achieved entrance anyway. Onward!

...IN AS MANY HOURS. Yes, the Show That Never Ends threatened to live well up to its name in this lengthy episode. We did Humpty's poem again, together with others (Clark Ashton Smith for one, un-credited) and then discussed the Extinction Events which have troubled our planet's biosphere in previous lustrums and epicycles. When Puzzling Evidence and later, KrOB appeared, we took a jog in another direction, ending up watching and narrating SHIP OF MONSTERS (1960) a Mexican film about two comely Venusians who have captured males of various sentient species from other worlds to take back to the Planet of Love for breeding purposes (!) when stopping on Earth due to a momentary, transient space ship breakdown. They decide to collect a happy-go-lucky vaquero (Eulalio González) named, in the film, Lalo Gonzalez "Piporro," whose bar-room buddies regularly are regaled by his outrageous lies. Naturally, they disbelieve him when he tells of encountering the Space Babes and their retinue of grotesques. To complicate matters, one of the Venusians turns out to be a curvaceous but sharp-fanged Vampire with sinister plans for the Earth. Hilarity, of a sort, ensues. Viewers of this sort of film will remember that Venus is populated by shapely glamour-dolls in sparkly, form-fitting swimsuit-like affairs, as in QUEEN OF OUTER SPACE (1958), ABBOT AND COSTELLO GO TO MARS (1953) et al. (Yes, I know, the funnymen in that movie intend to go to Mars but actually end up on Venus.) The all-female Venereans apparently enjoy a highly evolved technological civilization, which is how they have managed to delude Earthly space probes into reporting that the second planet out from the Sun is a Hell World of super-heated acid rain in a searing black abyss. Good strategy, that. The film's leading ladies, Ana Bertha Lepe and Lorena Velázquez, were crowned Señorita México (Miss Mexico) in 1953 and 1960, respectively. Six hours.

PERFORMED BY DR. H. OWLL, with an introduced musical/sound-effect. The verse, called (by some) "Indeterminacy," also known by its first line, "I Sent a Message to the Fish," was composed by the poet prior to Mr. Dumpty's tragic accident; the Palace Guard, together with the Royal Equerry are, we hear, at present engaged in a major medical effort to remedy his injuries. Also with the poetry of Dylan Thomas. Nurse Kelly speaks at length on the Night of Slack (1984) and the forthcoming(?) SubGenius Documentary film (working title) "Slacking Toward Bethlehem." At this point Michael Peppe and Puzzling Evidence visit the Studio; a new conversation proceeds from there. For the address to mail contributions and Questions, please listen to future episodes. Ironically, the ongoing Government Shutdown may be, in our favor, delaying the Inevitable.

In this hard-hitting episode, fearless Dr. H. Owll shows a vision of omnipresent destruction, with the aid of Ray Bradbury's prophetic story THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS, which he reads. Before that, the word-music of Dylan Thomas. After that, the arrival of Puzzling Evidence in the Studio heralds the second petal of our triune blossom: a narration of the film HELLCATS OF THE NAVY, featuring Arthur Franz and, yes, Ronald Reagan, with a shore-side romance with the ankylosed, angular former Nancy Davis (we should do DONOVAN'S BRAIN sometime). In this Morningside picture, Ron keeps a stiff upper lip, along with the rest of his anatomy, while intrepidly piloting a submarine into Japanese waters. Based on something that actually happened somewhere and sometime, hidden and distorted by layers of scriptwriting and the standard patriotic homilies, the picture begins with Admiral Chester Nimitz (in Berkeley, California) and veers between a back-lot Guam and a submarine interior familiar to those who watch IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE SEA. For this potboiler was cooked up by Columbia producer Charles Schneer, who worked with Ray Harryhausen. Some of the shots in HELLCATS also make it into IT CAME, the movie about the bulbous, thousand-foot-long octopus, actually a sextopus in the movie, which tears down the Golden Gate Bridge. Moreover, this Reaganesque clunker is directed by Nathan Juran, whose filmography includes THE DEADLY MANTIS, ATTACK OF THE FIFTY-FOOT WOMAN and the Harryhausen pictures TWENTY MILLION MILES TO EARTH, THE SEVENTH VOYAGE OF SINBAD and THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON. All this is actually of great interest to some of us. You know who you are, Etherettes and Rocket Rookies... eh? Lastly, we drag things out with a co-presentation of the lugubrious British comedy, CARRY ON SCREAMING. You know, the one with "Oddbod." And this carries us on (heh, heh) to the end,

WHY DIDN'T JOHNNY APPLESEED (September 26, 1774 – March 18, 1845), a.k.a. Jonathan Chapman, ever get married? As every schoolboy knows, or probably doesn't have an inkling these days, Mr. Appleseed dressed in a coffee sack, donned a saucepan for a hat and traveled barefoot. A 19th-century horticulturist who made great contributions to the westward expansion of the United States, he planted entire orchards as far west as Illinois. Though he may not have traveled down the Allegheny River on a block of ice like his folk-hero persona, Chapman, the son of a farmer, was born in Leominster, Massachusetts. He moved to Ohio at the beginning of the 19th century, bringing seeds from Pennsylvania cider presses with him and planting them along the way. The whole thing was about Cider-- hard Cider, an essential in hard-drinking America at the time, so most homes had their own small orchard. Chapman planted his orchards right along the pioneer routes, staying ahead of other orchard-planting competition-- since his obsessed, nomadic, unmarried lifestyle allowed him to cover more ground. He would then trade his seedlings with new settlers in the area so that they could grow apples for their new homes. A wife, perhaps, would have cramped his style. And few would put up with his peculiar calling, or his deliberate courting of harsh conditions. If this be Sexism, make the most of it. With the poetry of Dylan Thomas and others, Michael Peppe, Puzzling Evidence-- and KrOB.

AND, SO, SWIFT AWAY THE OLD YEAR PASSES. Come, ye merry lads and lasses. Cut through the cornball tinsel commercialism to encounter the on-"air" refuge of the Old Gods, not dead, but only (lightly) asleep-- and dreaming. Within the First Hour, the poetry of John Milton; later, while waiting (in vain!) for a manifestation of Michael Peppe, may his voice grow ever louder! --"The Journey of the Magi," by T.S. Eliot, performed by Dr. H. Owll. We never did get to "The Night Before Christmas..." Maybe AFTER Christmas-- who can say! Later, Puzzling Evidence and KrOB, after much exhortation to have a presence on the Show, are eventually heard. And though we couldn't get Bubba-Free Im-Ho-Pep live, we DO present one of his greatest classic rants/performances, "Living in the Tenderloin." That should be Peppe enough for most who are jones-ing for the True, the Blushful Hippocrene from this artist. A Sovereign Solstice and Sweet Saturnalia, by mooned Ashtaroth! And to all, a good night.

THIS FIVE-HOUR EPISODE alters, as it tends to do, when Puzzling Evidence makes his appearance ca. 11:00 PM. Later, KrOB also comes in. Those lovable so-and-sos extend the show by several hours. By then, Dr. H. Owll, tormented by lack of sleep, was barely able to participate. Before that, at Puz-Ev's suggestion, we narrated the (fairly) recent film, COWBOYS AND ALIENS. This movie was better than one might expect, with good performances from well-known actors-- Paul Dano is exceptionally good, as is Harrison Ford playing a villainous John Chisum- inspired character (perhaps-- we think of the Lincoln County Wars in this context), while Daniel Craig, always reliable, essays an outlaw performance-- the Billy the Kid in this set-up, we think. Multitudinous improbabilities aside, the script offers several surprises. Mostly from our perspective it offers the opportunity to engage in Japanese-style narration of the events, while speculating about American History, exobiology, infra-planetary exchanges, marksmanship, horsemanship and of course all sorts of other science fiction and monster movies of varying quality but permanent memory... If this is your cup of granola, O Etherettes and Rocket Rookies, please dig right in. Well, the year's almost over, isn't it? Of course, a massive Alien Incursion is predicted for July of THIS NEXT YEAR by the Church of the SubGenius. Forewarned is forearmed, eh? With poetry, pedantry and the usual re-mix of Archival Material.

FOR THE SECOND TIME IN A ROW made Dr. H. Owll late to start. But we did start, and soon enjoyed two guests, Prof. C.N. and the charming Kimmie Joan. Those reprobates Puzzling Evidence and Michael Peppe, however, did not show and had to be simulated by archival excerpts. Much talk about the Road to Black Rock City, and what we found there. Four hours.

THIEVES climbed into the building, or a thief, singular, as Security Cam footage appears to show. And he stole valued equipment from Radio Valencia. Most particularly two thoroughbred high-end microphones. And now there are those who say the Napoleon of Crime, Mister Karen Carpenter, a.k.a. Emanuel Goldstein, masterminded the heist. Further it is alleged that we, the much-suspicioned "Night People," willingly aided and abetted. No kidding-- that's what they say. The purloined Mikes reside at Reloadio, they say. Well, the Ask Dr. Hal! Show gives this issue a most thorough examination and analysis. With psychedelic glossolalia and echo chambers of looping, and general hilarity. Wheee! We're synthesizing, fusing with Reloadio here. Before that, before Puzzling Evidence and, later, KrOB came in, we... well, we were late to the studio. Started late. Stay with Robo DJ for a few beats at first when you download. "The Hashish-Eater" by Clark Ashton Smith is read by Dr, H, Owll. Eventually, Puzzo and KrOB turn what remains of the show into their own version of... Nose Hair Lint Gland...

PLUTONIUM, A FINE WHITE POWDER certainly not to be confused with the element (Pu) but a substance collected on an expedition to the Outer Solar System. Clark Ashton Smith's story tells what happens-- and what can happen --if you take it. This begins our show, and you can also hear it with a different musical accompaniment here: http://pseudopod.org/2018/04/20/pseudopod-591-the-plutonian-drug-and-the-hashish-eater/ on PseudoPod 591. There also may you hear, audacious Explorer, Dr. H. Owll's rendition of Smith's THE HASHISH-EATER. Dylan Thomas was also there at the beginning, and an a-Capella rendition of some Old French Songs. At Eleven we admitted Puzzling Evidence, and gradually continued our colloquy. Traces persist after the Anthem, but after we faded away Robo-DJ failed singularly; even Puzzling Evidence was unable to pinpoint the problem. A wave of infinite darkness, unfathomable and final, settled over Radio Valencia.

AS AN EXPERIMENT, we ran the next of our group of recordings of Clark Ashton Smith's stories. The source seemed to be at a lower volume; we tried amplification but perhaps it was somewhat muffled by the incidental music? Hard to tell from our end. Followed next an excerpt from our INVISIBLE CITIES recorded series, the first a genuine Calvino (Italo), the second one by Dr. H. Owll that we slipped in. Thanks again, Dr. Fiasco! And later, Puzzling Evidence and KrOB appeared in the recently violated studio and eventually began affecting, then controlling the output. Enjoy these while they last, Etherettes and Rocket Rookies. The auto-destruction of what is called Radio Valencia is a most likely possibility; digital chains, more curtailing exponentially than the guardian Kisi App, seem ready to bind us to a complete halt. Well, we've had a good run. Download these things while they're here-- there's talk of removing all these posted episodes to throw off the scent of our pursuers, as an animal caught in a trap will sometimes chew off its own foot. Four hours of (mostly) yaks and laffs.