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").



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Like my brownhouse:
   trouble with Johnny Law
Sunday, July 2 2000
Today I switched from mid-priced brandy (my drink of choice since the "cold weather" came) to cheap rum. I bought a gallon of the stuff down at the neighborhood Smart and Final, and drank it on the rocks with mango juice.
In the bathtub, I read a printout of an article about the overclocker movement. I was especially intrigued by the comparison of overclocking to the cargo cults of the post-World War II South Pacific.

In the evening, after a day of doing video archiving down at the Dr. Suzy Block studio, Kim was running around doing various errands with studio colleagues over in the seaside city of Venice. Tooling down the deserted streets at 1:00am, even in an innocuous white Volvo, she looked suspicious to a bored agent of the law. There can be no mistake about it; she also looked like a girl. Johnny Law turned on his flashers and pulled her over.
He gave Kim the breathalyzer and made her walk the line. Perhaps he even made her do the backwards alphabet thing. Hours passed as he checked her record (the one thing from Kalkaska County was all that came up). Finally he set her free with just a warning about her license plate light. [REDACTED]


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http://asecular.com/blog.php?000702

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