How should we feel about city officials blasting pop songs to disperse protesters? Better than tear gas, but more disturbing that they're trying to weaponize our precious "Macarena?" 

Big Brother's DJs were in effect in Wellington, New Zealand's capital — where protesters, inspired by Canada's own anti-vax demonstrations, took to the streets. The Wellington authorities' response? Barry Manilow, "Baby Shark," and even some James Blunt (at his request).

We decided to look at why weaponizing music is such a popular pastime for governments trying to assert control over public dissent ... or to break suspected terrorists.

The soundtrack of mass suppression includes your Britneys and your Meow Mixes, but police and military aren't afraid to get deep into electronica with the sick beats of a Long-Range Acoustic Device. And of course any selection of sound attacks wouldn't be complete without Havana Syndrome, which might be some sort of energy weapon, it might be mass psychogenic illness, or it might be something else entirely.

But why dwell on the negative? Stephen shifts gears to talk about the use of music for health (instead of merely crowd control or dumb old dancing). We get into some music for making pain relief, but also for light horticulture.

What we're really humming a tune about the place of things, about how taking music, or people, out of their "proper" context can threaten the whole. And that means talking about the secret meaning of dirt, and where we all belong these days.

Join Brandon & Stephen on the threes & fours ... 'cause the ones & twos ain't enough.

JOURNOS is produced by Heather "Eagle Ears" Wilson. Music by Nathan "Nerth" Readey

Notes

New Zealand's COVID numbers are pretty nice // James Blunt was really in the military // More on Mary Douglas // More on protest and "dirt"

Audio Clips

James Taylor, "You've Got a Friend" // New Zealand protests // G20 Protests, CNN // Havana Syndrome, NBC News // Binaural Beats // Birds! // Hans Zimmer // "Plantasia"

In this episode, we start by reflecting on the mystery that is "Gazpacho Police." It's either a flub by Marjorie Taylor Greene, or the stunning reveal that the US Capitol Police's jurisdiction includes soups. Mistake or political ploy, it gave the news media something to freak out about, and the Right something new to fundraise around, probably.

But we're not here to talk about cold starter dishes. The MTG outburst reminded Brandon and Stephen that the government may indeed be spying on us, as was confirmed by the reveal that the CIA is indeed still spying on us. Will anyone care? Or are we still so tired of hearing about Edward Snowden that we'll just let the CIA have its fun? What's the harm? What's on streaming?

These days, we prefer our CIA to be presented to us via the boyish good looks and gun-show biceps of John Krasinski's Jack Ryan. The Amazon Prime show is coming back for a third (and fourth) season, so we had to drill down into the popularity of the most expensive CIA commercials ever. Focusing on the further adventures of "Jim from The Office" may take our minds off the fact that the show has a pretty troubling POV on places like Yemen and Venezuela.

But as long as heroic, nerdy Jack Ryan continues to bang-bang and keyboard-keyboard so winningly, we can forget about the real explosions being covered up by all the teevee ones.

Blow on your soups to warm them up, folks, because here be the real Gazpacho Police.

JOURNOS is produced by Heather "Eagle Ears" Wilson.

Notes and Things

Wyden & Heinrich's press release // One redacted-ass letter // CIA and NSA contract with Amazon Web Services // The Toronto Star thinks Krasinski is "the hero we need" // The Atlantic on Jack Ryan as Reagan-era good guy // Some things to know about Yemen // A take on why the US should cut off Saudi Arabia // No but maybe for real // Venezuela isn't a Jack Ryan fan // Jack Ryan as government propaganda // Krasinski on The TODAY Show!

We've talked about Cucumber Time before: that "silly season" in summer and late in the year when the media decides not much is happening (all evidence to the contrary) and crams its news hole with frivolity.

A species of Cucumber Time is on us again: this one we call Horny Time, when outlets scramble to find stories about love and lust to fluff us up for Valentine's Day. NYT served us up a moist one about a Las Vegas airplane charter biz that rolls out the satin pillows for customers to join the Mile High Club. It'll cost you, but the pilot's privacy curtain is included.

All this talk of high-altitude frolicking taxied us over to another airline story: Southwest is finally bringing booze back, baby-baby! For those of us who carry more Southwest drink tickets in our wallets than shabby American "currency," this is fine news, at long last. Does this mean air travel is finally returning to normal? The FAA's handy tally of Unruly Passengers suggests midair mischief may be on the wane, and we can all re-stow our duct tape.

Why were we all such freaks on planes over the past two years, anyway? The wellness beat had opinions: shifting mask policy, pandemic fatigue, and, according to Spirit Airlines' former CEO ... violence in movies? Human behavior, like flight itself, is still a total mystery.

But what to do with all the flying asshats we've accrued over these two years? Delta thinks we need a no-fly list for jerks. (Delta also resumed booze service for its upper-crust, "that side of the curtain" passengers a full nine months before the bleating goats in coach, so maybe they've got some class issues to address.) Whatever the case, it could mean the next time you get crocked on Chivas and slap a flight attendant's ass, you may wake up in Gitmo.

While extraordinary rendition for sky-slobs has its charms, at least one guy, a lawyer for people stuck on the real no-fly list, thinks Delta's idea ain't great. 

All this, plus Stephen's hatred of charts. Come soar with us; we got extra drink tixxxxx.

JOURNOS is produced by Heather "Eagle Ears" Wilson.

"Airplane, Seat Belt Beep, A.wav" by InspectorJ (www.jshaw.co.uk) of Freesound.org

On today’s episode, we chat with aspiring documentary filmmaker Ronald Weaver II. Ron’s had an interesting couple of years: He’s attended over 200 Black Lives Matter and, later, Trump-related events (yes, including the one on January 6). During this time he’s meticulously captured this batshit-crazy moment in American history, live-streaming some…pretty tense moments to his thousands of followers on Instagram.

We picked his brain, fittingly, just a few days after he returned from filming those protests in Ottawa. We also hear some first-hand accounts of what it was like covering some heavily-armed events in Louisville, and ask him what a second civil war might actually look like in the U.S. (hint: it might be decentralized, like everything else these days). Throughout the conversation, Ron shares his personal journey throughout the process of getting up close and personal with today’s America, and we stumble upon a discussion of the ethics of presenting oneself as a Trump supporter in order to get a straight answer from some MAGA folks. 

It’s a great one, folks. Dive in. 

We talked about memes as "mind viruses" a few episodes ago, but boy, "Let's Go Brandon" got nothing on Wordle. The daily word game has become America's newest pandemic, so it was only a matter of time before someone figured out a way to spoil everything on Twitter.

So, we got to thinking about "spoilers." That led us to ideas about "controlling the narrative," which has taken some interesting forms lately:

• China changing the ending of "Fight Club" and other movies to make sure the state always wins

All of which proves that the stories we're telling, collectively, really matter. And thus: the irritation of spoilers.

But what if spoilers are good for us? One study suggests that spoilers actually improve our appreciation and understanding of stories — it's a Zen thing maybe: you can be in the moment without thinking about how things are going to turn out.

Speaking of endings, we spend a little time talking about the ultimate spoiler: the knowledge of our own deaths. Can that particular spoiler in fact help us appreciate life?

Rounding this out, we crunch into whether or not Stephen has any right to privacy when it comes to the ending of "Mad Men," which he is only just now watching.

The answer may surprise you.

This week, we're joined by fellow Journo Chris Roberts to talk about why it took so long for an American politician to finally smoke a blunt in a campaign ad. That man is Louisiana's Gary Chambers, Jr., and he's running for a U.S. Senate seat, and the story went all over the place, because of course it did.

Chris wrote about it, too, so we had him on to talk about using stunts to draw attention to bigger issues and why so many politicians claim to support cannabis but never smoke it publicly.

We also dug into how big business complicates the push for normalization, and why the news media can't help but make awful pot puns in their coverage. It's as awkward as watching a 1950s dad who's wandered into a sex party. 

Where's weed policy going? Where's weed coverage going? And does smoking weed protect you from COVID-19? No, no it doesn't, Chris dutifully wrote.

It's a relatively pun-free episode, so roll up a sleeve and light up an abiding interest in media analysis, you mellow awesome friends.

We at JOURNOS believe that art, freed from the author, belongs to the recipient. So art can mean something particular to you, or me, separate from any authorial intention.

With that in mind, Brandon reads the "Let's Go Brandon" meme not as a political slight against President Joe Biden, but rather as a constant and enduring message of positivity and reinforcement to Brandon himself. It's uttered by NASCAR fans, Southwest airlines pilots, politicians, and an assortment of hoodies and camouflage tees, and it makes Brandon feel pretty great.

What does it all mean beyond a great self-esteem boost for at least half of our duo? 

"Let's Go Brandon" started as a misrepresented chant centered around race car driver Brandon Brown, and became a right-wing meme, which then followed the career track of many memes these days and transformed into a “cryptocurrency meme coin" called LGBcoin ...

... which “allows owners to digitally voice their support for America and the American dream.”

That sounds like self-esteem all around. And we get into it in this episode, along with the market value of meme coins, whether "Brandon" is the new "Karen," and the idea that ideas themselves are using humans to propagate and evolve. So — who's paying whom, exactly?

It's a race to the finish and to the spoils go the victors. Vroom!

When the media gets a good story about a TRAIN ROBBERY, why, it's a special kind of glee. Headlines may read things like “Thieves loot freight trains in Los Angeles with impunity” but beneath the newsy professionalism is a childlike desire to write what reporters really feel about trains, crime, & policing:

"Choo-Choo's Boo-Boos Are No-Nos for the Po-Po"

In other words, some simple-ass storytelling, y'all.

Never fear, because our two intrepid news hoboes, Brandon & Stephen, dodge the bulls to hop aboard the story of these freight-train robberies in Los Angeles. Oh the boxes! So many boxes.

Who's to blame? Union Pacific points the finger at LA County's progressive District Attorney, George Gascon, for not prosecuting more people. The DA's office says it's hard to build a case since so few are caught in the act. 

The news media, meanwhile, is so happy to wade through the packages that it doesn't dig down much deeper — into whether more prosecutions would help anything, or whether Union Pacific should just ... hire more officers for its police force. To actually protect the property they're transporting.

Union Pacific can certainly afford it. With revenue in the billions and big dividend increases, 2021 was Union Pacific's "most profitable year ever." So why is it threatening to reroute service out of LA? And who knew that a train could even do that?

All this narrative tension — it's enough to knock a freight right off the tracks. 

There's plenty of ground to cover, so join our own Butch & Sundance to chase this one down, climb on, and steal the bullion of truth itself.

JOURNOS is produced by Heather "Eagle Ears" Wilson.

This episode featured sounds from meaganlongley through Creative Commons.

In this solo outing, Brandon bravely confronts America's fear and hatred of ... the cassowary, "the world's deadliest bird." 

There's a great study out from Penn State on how humans 18,000 years ago harvested cassowary eggs. It shines a light on how ancient, indigenous humans shaped their environment. News media went nuts over the bird's resemblance to velociraptors, which is a problem not just with media, but with our own dumb brains.

Brandon (again, very bravely) looks into how our evolutionary wiring makes us susceptible to fearing non-existent dangers and ignoring the really big ones right in front of us. It's a whole "conquering the wilderness" narrative.

Don't worry, he also answers the question: What bird is really the world's deadliest?

It's a real Man vs. (Human) Nature tale.

A version of this story first ran at WhoWhatWhy. Music by Nathan "The True Wilderness is Within" Readey.

When you do something wrong, what's your move? To accept responsibility, or to create a dirty little simulacrum who takes the blame while you cavort?

If you're an American company, you might go with the Mini-Me approach.

Today, we're telling two tales of bankruptcy. In the first, Cyber Ninjas is shutting down. They couldn't assassinate the will of the voters in Arizona, so they are attempting to vanish into the night, having at least pushed The Big Lie of voter fraud a little further toward this year's midterm elections. 

(Not great that faith in honest elections is running pretty low right now.)

The judge called Cyber Ninjas a "piñata," which got Brandon & Stephen thinking about Johnson & Johnson's own festive atmosphere of dodging responsibility. J&J, responsible for tens of thousands of cases of cancer related to its talc products, is attempting a legal maneuver called a Texas Two-Step: split the company into two entities, and push all the legal blame on that new company. Then, declare bankruptcy and you're home free.

From here, it's a riff on companies as a kind of emergent intelligence dedicated not to human ethics, but to survival at all costs. It's a Paperclip Apocalypse, y'all, which is much less festive.

Grab your hittin' stick and lace up your cowboy boots for this fiesta of malfeasance.