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

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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   infant souls rejecting Satan
Monday, October 2 2000
Today I've been enjoying Poorbob's Weblog. Poorbob is the same guy as Al, my old CollegeClub colleague, the one who decided to move to Ocean Beach shortly after I moved there. He's got a girlfriend now and is moving in with her. It seems all is going well with him, even while he inexplicably continues working for the company that has fucked him over continuously for the past two years. I particularly appreciated the episode in his weblog where he randomly ran across Eric Berman, the fired GM who mismanaged into oblivion.
Today someone posted a message in my forum saying that Michæl Pousti (the disgraced former CEO), Eric Berman, and Brandi, their asymmetrically-faced mutual love muffin, are planning on buying CollegeClub outright for cash once its creditors have been dispatched via bankruptcy. The phoenix rises again from its unscrupulous ashes, like a hideously mangled corpse in Reanimator.
Way back when CollegeClub was still on top of the world, long-suffering graphic designer Sherman Parayano told me that CollegeClub had risen and fallen many times in its six year history, moving from business model to bankruptcy, from boom to bust and bull to bear multiple times. Most of the businesses it attempted involved dubious multi-level marketing and what can only be described as pyramid schemes.
I find it hilarious that other marginal startup websites are blatantly pirating and scavenging ideas (such as they are) from the rotting corpse of Check out Clearly this would provoke a lawsuit if CollegeClub had any resources with which to fight (even the GIFs themselves are pirated). But CollegeClub is a fallen elephant with eyes glazing over, waiting to be reanimated by Eric Berman's capable management and Brandi's vapid cheerleader smile.

In the evening my housemate John was with Fernando downstairs, watching a home video brought back by John's sister Maria from a recent trip to the East. The star of this particular video was John's new baby nephew, Pete, soon after birth. He weighed only five pounds nine ounces and looked like a hairless megaencephalitic rodent. Believe me, this wasn't a pleasant thing to behold. But still the camera lingered on him, though I would have much preferred looking at John's other, more developed relatives. For all you proud parents out there, a word of advice: newborn babies are not photogenic. They don't do interesting things, and there's no reason to have them hog the spotlight - unless you happen to be filming a birth control advocacy flick.
The most horrifying segment of all was during the baptism ceremony. It was, it turned out, a mass baptism, something I didn't even know Catholics did. While the priest called upon the gathered infant souls to "reject Satan," they wailed like tormented proto-souls being slow-roasted in Hell.

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