Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   long knives and other nasties
Tuesday, February 15 2000
I inherited a lot of good stuff from my parents, and one of those things was an inability to abide things that are oppressive or otherwise fucked-up. When I see that someone is trying to to milk the system for personal advantage, especially if it entails fucking with me, I'm not one to mind my own business. With this online journal, I have a great place to showcase the absurdities I face each and every work day. There are those, however, who would like to see me silenced. This is clearly indicated by the following email I received today from one of my anonymous moles:

Little birds mentioned that someone might be trying to de-hire a certain message boards wizard.

They mentioned that gus wrote about coming to work stoned in his online journal. There was concern about the safety of "trade secrets" If you care, you might want to delete references to working stoned.

Or burn the fucking building down.

Just wanted to pass on what I heard.

Up until I received that email, the day had actually been chugging along nicely. I had successfully dealt with a mind-boggling series of tab URL calculations that had stumped the brightest minds of the Austin development staff, congesting the release of a whole new section of the site. "Have I ever told you that you're a superstar?" asked the Over-involved Queen of Membersupport as she put my changes live. She spends most of her time doing QA these days.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

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