THE RUDE OWL CRIED like a tell-tale tit. So scripsit Dylan Thomas, and so we have done again. But we also here focus on the (uncomfortably imminent) forthcoming Future. Especial Guest KrOB adds needed herbs and spices to the cauldron. Initially the future of Reloadio, an actual planning session is featured, Reloadio? The late Pete Goldie, expelled from this institution and cast into outer darkness, as when Satan was defeated by the Archangel Michael ("THIS greeting on thy impious crest receive!") in dubious battle on the plains of Heaven and flung headlong, flaming, from th'ethereal sky, with hideous ruin and combustion down... When this happened Pete built an actual radio station of his own in his attic. Well, sir, Pete, you know, is gathered to his fathers, but we fellow travelers have been, as many are following, appearing there for some time-- and now, by Jupiter! --we're consolidating, rebuilding-- creating a whole new studio... We discuss that. But then we shift into dismal speculation about the perilous state of the country and the national disaffection. KrOB n' me, we talk it all out, ranging over film, literature and personal matters (in the grand tradition of Roommate Radio). The extended kaffee-free klatch ends up lasting an extra hour. Soundscapes by KrOB exalt the final hour. We speak with pleasure of the incoming rain. November begins.