Best 529 quotes in «radio quotes» category

Having studied the toxic biological effects of wireless radio frequency (RF) radiation, I find it amazing that women will willfully strap on two radio frequency antennas to their breasts in the form of an underwired bra. The wireless industry knows the underwired bra as a dipole antenna or doublet.

High altitude astronomical sites are commonly also used as Radio Frequency (RF) radiation antenna parks.

Human mind and body metals appear to be lost through radio frequency exposure and I call this hypothesis: Internal Human Corrosion

High powered radio frequency (RF) transmitters really need to be reclassified as an industrial application and banned out of residential communities that have developing babies and children.

Humans would become very sick without natural radio frequency (RF) exposures.

I believe in making memories. For when you drive on the rough damp road, it acts like a smile just as your favourite songs playing on the radio!

I did Barbie’s dream as a one-off thing, but I found it haunting me; I kept having an image in my head of Martin Tenbones getting killed in real New York. Still, that would’ve been the end of it...except, by a wild coincidence, a short time later I received a postcard from Jonathan Carroll. He wrote that he’d been following my graphic novel Signal to Noise—which was being serialized in The Face magazine at the time—and he was finding a number of very scary similarities between my story and his as yet unpublished novel, A Child Across the Sky. He concluded, “We’re like two radio sets tuned to the same goofy channel.” I wrote back and said, “I think you’re right. What’s more, I abandoned a whole storyline after reading Bones of the Moon, but I keep thinking I ought to return to it.” Jonathan then sent me a wonderful letter with this advice: “Go to it, man. Ezra Pound said that every story has already been written. The purpose of a good writer is to write it new. I would very much like to see a Gaiman approach to that kind of story.” With that encouragement, I began creating A Game of You.

I find the blatant cover-up regarding the extensive biological toxicity of wireless radiation to the masses by the corporate government to be absolutely disgusting.

I didn't mind what she called me, what anybody called me. But this was the room I had to live in. It was all I had in the way of a home. In it was everything that was mine, that had any association for me, any past, anything that took the place of a family. Not much: a few books, pictures, radio, chessmen, old letters, stuff like that. Nothing. Such as they were, they had all my memories.

If the wireless radiation industry is not shut down, they will do more damage to society than what Hitler did to the Jews.

I’m creating a self help show called Self Talk. I’ll insult myself for an hour then open phone lines to a fitness coach & my mother-in-law.

If you are living in the electrified wireless west, then you are living a very abnormal lifestyle that your genetics has no adaptation to.

I glanced over and saw Wyatt glaring at me. Journey’s “Lovin’ Touchin’, Squeezin’” was playing on the radio. “What?” I asked. “You secretly hate me, don’t you.” He gestured toward the radio. “You can’t stand the thought of me taking a much needed nap and leaving you to drive without conversation. You’re torturing me with this sappy stuff.” “It’s Journey. I love this song.” Wyatt mumbled something under his breath, picked up the CD case, and started looking through it. He paused with a choked noise, his eyes growing huge. “You’re joking, Sam. Justin Bieber? What are you, a twelve-year old girl?” There’s gonna be one less lonely girl, I sang in my head. That was a great song. How could he not like that song? Still, I squirmed a bit in embarrassment. “A twelve-year old girl gave me that CD,” I lied. “For my birthday.” Wyatt snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re a terrible liar. Otherwise, I’d be horrified at the thought that a demon has been hanging out with a bunch of giggling pre-teens.” He continued to thumb through the CDs. “Air Supply Greatest Hits? No, no, I’m wrong here. It’s an Air Supply cover band in Spanish.” He waved the offending CD in my face. “Sam, what on earth are you thinking? How did you even get this thing?” “Some tenant left it behind,” I told him. “We evicted him, and there were all these CDs. Most were in Spanish, but I’ve got a Barry Manilow in there, too. That one’s in English.” Wyatt looked at me a moment, and with the fastest movement I’ve ever seen, rolled down the window and tossed the case of CDs out onto the highway. It barely hit the road before a semi plowed over it. I was pissed. “You asshole. I liked those CDs. I don’t come over to your house and trash your video games, or drive over your controllers. If you think that will make me listen to that Dubstep crap for the next two hours, then you better fucking think again.” “I’m sorry Sam, but it’s past time for a musical intervention here. You can’t keep listening to this stuff. It wasn’t even remotely good when it was popular, and it certainly hasn’t gained anything over time. You need to pull yourself together and try to expand your musical interests a bit. You’re on a downward spiral, and if you keep this up, you’ll find yourself friendless, living in a box in a back alley, stinking of your own excrement, and covered in track marks.” I looked at him in surprise. I had no idea Air Supply led to lack of bowel control and hard core drug usage. I wondered if it was something subliminal, a kind of compulsion programmed into the lyrics. Was Russell Hitchcock a sorcerer? He didn’t look that menacing to me, but sorcerers were pretty sneaky. Even so, I was sure Justin Bieber was okay. As soon as we hit a rest stop, I was ordering a replacement from my iPhone.

I had no songs in my repertoire for commercial radio anyway. Songs about debauched bootleggers, mothers that drowned their own children, Cadillacs that only got five miles to the gallon, floods, union hall fires, darkness and cadavers at the bottom of rivers weren't for radiophiles. There was nothing easygoing about the folk songs I sang. They weren't friendly or ripe with mellowness. They didn't come gently to the shore. I guess you could say they weren't commercial. Not only that, my style was too erratic and hard to pigeonhole for the radio, and songs, to me, were more important that just light entertainment. They were my preceptor and guide into some altered consciousness of reality, some different republic, some liberated republic. Greil Marcus, the music historian, would some thirty years later call it "the invisible republic." Whatever the case, it wasn't that I was anti-popular culture or anything and I had no ambitions to stir things up. i just thought of popular culture as lame as hell and a big trick. It was like the unbroken sea of frost that lay outside the window and you had to have awkward footgear to walk on it. I didn't know what age of history we were in nor what the truth of it was. Nobody bothered with that. If you told the truth, that was all well and good and if you told the un-truth, well, that's still well and good. Folk songs taught me that.

I have every expectation that if switched mode power supplies, radioactive household smoke detectors, radio frequency (RF) transmitters and satellites were banned, Autism would recede into a very rare disease.

In 1962 the president of the American Historical Association, Carl Bridenbaugh, warned his colleagues that human existence was undergoing a “Great Mutation”—so sudden and so radical “that we are now suffering something like historical amnesia.” He lamented the decline of reading; the distancing from nature (which he blamed in part on “ugly yellow Kodak boxes” and “the transistor radio everywhere”); and the loss of shared culture.

In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

In a global radiation society, those that have the best chance of long term survival are the smart ones that have adopted radiation resistance health techniques.

It is reasonable to think that if you spend your days indoors under artificial lights, staring at a screen, sitting in computer electromagnetic interference (EMI) fields and exposed to radio waves, that you may eventually develop a strange form of radiation sickness.

I think of radio frequency (RF) radiation antennas in that same way that I think of water evaporators. Large volumes of water vapor can be deposited into the atmosphere by evaporators, as can large amounts of RF radiation energy by antennas. As such, the water evaporator is analogous to the RF radiation antenna.

Interviews were invented to make journalism less passive. Instead of waiting for something to happen, journalists ask someone what should or could happen.

I think irradiating pilots with WiFi radio frequency (RF) radiation is really going to hit about five years from now as 'Delayed Radiation Complications' show up. I am expecting to see increased airplane accidents & crashes for various reasons starting in 2020 onward.

It is only a matter of time before utility smart meter health damage lawsuits start winning in large numbers, and when they do they will have no option but to shut down the known biologically toxic smart meter radio frequency (RF) industry.

It is the uninformed that willfully put a cellphone next to their brains.

It's called the Infinity Effect.

It really should be a criminal offense for an electrician to mount a breaker box on a bedroom wall. Unfortunately, I see the solar industry mounting inverters on bedroom walls also!

It’s a hard thing to accept that someone wants you dead. It forces you to decide if you have anything worth living for.

Many schools, colleges and universities have turned into biologically toxic radio frequency (RF) radiation antenna parks.

I was always fishing for something on the radio. Just like trains and bells, it was part of the soundtrack of my life. I moved the dial up and down and Roy Orbison's voice came blasting out of the small speakers. His new song, "Running Scared," exploded into the room. Orbison, though, transcended all the genres - folk, country, rock and roll or just about anything. His stuff mixed all the styles and some that hadn't even been invented yet. He could sound mean and nasty on one line and then sing in a falsetto voice like Frankie Valli in the next. With Roy, you didn't know if you were listening to mariachi or opera. He kept you on your toes. With him, it was all about fat and blood. He sounded like he was singing from an Olympian mountaintop and he meant business. One of his previous songs, "Ooby Dooby" was deceptively simple, but Roy had progressed. He was now singing his compositions in three or four octaves that made you want to drive your car over a cliff. He sang like a professional criminal. Typically, he'd start out in some low, barely audible range, stay there a while and then astonishingly slip into histrionics. His voice could jar a corpse, always leave you muttring to yourself something like, "Man, I don't believe it." His songs had songs within songs. They shifted from major to minor key without any logic. Orbison was deadly serious - no pollywog and no fledgling juvenile. There wasn't anything else on the radio like him.

I was scripting for a series on the Arts programme which was shown very late on a Sunday evening, and I was sent off to get the low down on several up and coming musicians who would be featured each week. To the music world, they may have been up and coming, I would have preferred them to be down and going and preferably out of range.

Marketing is so powerful that it can make even an extremely untalented musician a one-hundred-hits wonder.

It was Father Charles Coughlin, of Detroit, who had first thought out the device of freeing himself from any censorship of his political sermons on the Mount by "buying his own time on the air"— it being only in the twentieth century that mankind has been able to buy Time as it buys soap and gasoline. This invention was almost equal, in its effect on all American life and thought, to Henry Ford's early conception of selling cars cheap to millions of people, instead of selling a few as luxuries.

It was one of the great pleasures of the age, to be safe and warm and dry - showered, deodorized, professionally clothed in espadrilles and a linen jacket, latte steaming up the radio display, taking in the world's troubles three minutes at a time. That was luxury.

Mom sez I like talk radio, teaching, and consulting 'cuz they ensure captive audiences. True or not (let Freudians decide), I'm driven by a "four eyed" mission to inform, instruct, intrigue, and inspire. Moreover, I like interactivity: If you're listening, I'm listening. Talk with me!

Media: the tongue of a nation!

Mdanganyifu hudanganya wanaopenda kudanganywa.

Mlinzi mmoja wa ndani alishtuka aliposikia kishindo cha kitu kudondoka. Aligeuka upesiupesi lakini akaridhika alipokuta ni mwenzake ila akashindwa kuelewa kwa nini mwenzake huyo aanguke. Hata hivyo aliachana na Murphy na kuendelea na lindo lake huku akivuta msokoto mfupi wa bangi. Lakini, yule mlinzi hakutembea hatua nyingi kabla ya kusimama na kujiuliza maswali kichwani. Kwa nini mwenzake huyo atoke nje ambako ndiko alikuwa amepangiwa na ambako ndiko waliambiwa kuwe na ulinzi imara na ndiyo maana wakawekwa saba? Kwa nini aanguke ndani ya ua bila hata ya kumsemesha chochote? Kwa nini hakumpigia redio kwamba alikuwa akiingia ndani ili asiwe na wasiwasi? Alipowaza sana aliamua asiwe na pupa. Aliamua kumfuata mwenzake, aliyekuwa mbele yake, ili amwambie kitu na washirikiane.

Once ether was everywhere. The crook of an arm, say. (Also the heavens.) It slowed the movement of the stars, told the left hand where the right hand went. Then it was gone, like hysteria, like the hollow earth. The news came over the radio. There is only air now. Abandon your experiments.

My recovery from Electromagnetic Hypersensitivity (EHS) was based around radiation detoxification, restoring the DC voltage of the body and removing the clots.

Most forms of energy are invisible.

Mtu yoyote anayedanganya ni Shetani, kwani Shetani ni baba wa uongo. Tusikubali kudanganywa ovyo, hasa watoto wetu, katika kipindi hiki cha utandawazi na teknolojia.

People who have metal implants should be familiar with the symptoms of radio wave sickness and should keep their environment free of wireless radiation producing products.

One word continues to be used when people talk about Bob Crane’s radio work: genius.

One of Lyle's best assets was also his biggest downfall--he was a big dick.

People with Electromagnetic Hypersensitivity (EHS) have the unfortunate choice of suffering Radio Frequency (RF) sickness without electromagnetically screening their homes or to get natural radiation deficiency sickness with the RF protective screening installed, the choice is which sickness is the most tolerable. It is a really bad situation to be in.

Prepare for a radio, for nothing is silent like the grave

Prehistory isn't like a 'veil' or a 'curtain' that 'lifts’ to reveal the pre-set 'stage' of history. Rather, prehistory is an absence of something: an absence of writing. So a better image of the ‘dawn of history’ might be an AM radio in the pre-dawn hours: you recognize wisps of words or music across the dial, inter blending, and noise obscures even the few clear-channel stations. The first ones we find, when we switch on the radio of history about 3200B.C.E., come from Mesopotamia, and those from Egypt soon emerge. Eventually the neighbouring lands produce records, with the effect that the ancient Near East is probably the best documented civilization before the invention of printing.” (Daniels and Bright, page 19)

Police officers are poorly paid for a very stressful job that has them in very high powered radio frequency (RF) fields and in a daily environment that may result in them being assaulted, maimed or killed.

{President] Kayibanda's government [in Rwanda] continued the persecution against the Tutsis and began to make use of the media it controlled to launch a propaganda campaign against us. In a country where more than half the people cannot read or write and very few have televisions, radio is the dominant media. The fact that some newspapers were still printing the truth didn't matter much to the part of the population that couldn't read. Most of the literate people were already politically aware. While an educated person might question what they read or hear from the media, the uneducated tend to accept it. The uneducated are more easily affected by threats and the emotional trauma that propaganda like this can create.

Radio frequency (RF) is a controlled form of electromagnetic interference (EMI).