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:
   envy & Kaczynski
Thursday, April 27 2000
The weather is always good in Santa Monica/West LA. It never rains, and the fog is nearly lifted by the time I ride my bike to work. It takes me about five minutes to get there if I take it kind of slow. I came home during lunch and had a glass of wine and a styrofoam container of Chinese food while I was there. I said a little prayer for the little slice of Matt Roger's environment that died so that I could briefly have a container for my Chinese food. About fifteen minutes later I threw it away with two cheap wooden chopsticks sticking out of it like the tusks of a walrus.
For those of you who don't pay much attention to my forum, the main news of the week concerns Matt Rogers, my old College chum famous for his underachievement. Evidently he's decided that I've risen too far up on the socio-economic ladder to qualify for being his friend. Yes, believe it or not, he's broken up with me, like a neurotic, Corynna-style girlfriend, even sending me an email detailing alleged crimes I've committed with the apparent threat of blackmail. The bad energy between us seems to have started at just about the time I announced I would be buying a house in Los Angeles. Since then, he's been railing like some sort of half-baked Ted Kaczynski impersonator against technology, life in the city, and life as a dot-com internet employee. He's been accusing me of wasting resources and destroying the Earth, all charges that seem sort of miss-placed when you consider I ride my bike to work every day and spend that day building tools allowing people to interact virtually.

(Also, to illustrate his hypocrisy on the matter, one of the most memorable events from my early friendship with Matt Rogers dates to the Spring of 1988, when he came to visit me at my rustic home in Virginia. Even after learning of the endless severe water shortage prevailing there, he felt the need to take baths at least two days in a row in defiance of my Dad's requests.)

When I'd finally had enough of his idiotic self-righteousness, I pointed out to my readers that Matt Rogers lives with (and parasitizes upon) his father while failing miraculously to create anything demonstrable upon his sorry website. Well, after a brief email exchange concluding with his threats of blackmail, that was the last I heard of Matt Rogers. You know, I don't think I've ever dealt with such embarrassingly palpable envy before in my life, especially from someone who has benefited so much from my generosity. I know it sucks to be loser in life, but generally it pays not to bite from among the hands that feed you, at least not until the revolution comes. But somehow I just don't see any tank assaults in the future of Matt Rogers. [REDACTED]

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