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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   close election
Tuesday, November 7 2000 A meme that just arrived via email:
Visit the George W Dance

At around 4pm Pacific time I was distracted from my work by the presidential election results that were just beginning to come in. No big surprises: a few states in the redneck south and the Dan Quayle-electing midwest had fallen for Dubya, the lazy-minded fratboy. I thought things would go badly, that Dubya, who had been narrowly leading in the tracking polls, would do well. But things started looking unexpectedly sunny and bright as Michigan, Florida and Pennsylvania fell for Gore. (Let me just take this opportunity to say that, though Gore is not my ideal candidate, he makes being an American considerably less embarrassing than does Bush.)
By 6pm I could no longer function at work, so I went home and turned on CNN. I was pumped up and invigorated. For some reason this election was affecting me emotionally, as if Gore's success was actually, at least to an extent, my own (which is particularly ludicrous given the fact that I hadn't even bothered to vote).
But then everything suddenly started looking grim as Florida was taken from Gore and placed back in the undecided pile because of some sort of fuck up. As I watched, I sipped vodkatea and corresponded with others in the virtual Vodkatea community, posting my immediate visceral feelings to everything I was seeing on CNN.
By the time John came home, I was already drunk on vodkatea. If it wasn't for this self-medication, my stomach would have been swimming helplessly. John, using a large brass screw eye as a corkscrew, uncorked a $2 750 mL bottle of Merlot he'd bought a Trader Joes, and we immediately set about to drinking the entire thing. When it was clear that the Presidential race was to remain undecided until at least tomorrow, John turned his attention to the idea of perhaps buying a cheap $3000 Japanese motorcycle to replace his car. He suggested I get one too, the principle reason being the low liability insurance: $84/month.

I experienced unusually troubled sleep as I thought about the craziness of the election returns I'd just been watching. None of the usual methods of sleep inducement were working, and I was afraid my vodkatea and wine excess was leading me down the road to hangoversville.
When I did finally fall asleep, I dreamed I was at a large party full of strangers. I kept trying to be engaging, flirtatious and pro-social, but it was doing me no good whatsoever and I was dealt one humiliation after another. The only girl who would have anything to do with me was a somewhat homely red-headed girl who tried to have sex with me in public while her equally red-headed brother whispered into my ear what a slutty reputation she had. Others looked on in disgust, treating me like a pariah for the rest of the evening. Later, when I tried to loudly address my fellow partiers (something I have often done at actual parties), people responded with insults and began to leave.

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