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
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Irving housing

got that wrong

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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   the unpredictable unexpected
Wednesday, November 8 2000
I woke up and it was sunny day with blue skies and not even the slightest rumble of nascent earthquakes. I desperately wanted to avoid the news, to somehow postpone my future life under the rule of degenerate American aristocracy. Whenever it crept into my mind, I found myself thinking about the horrible example George W. Bush "sends to the children": if you come from a wealthy family, get handed everything (including plausibly deniable cocaine) on a silver platter, C+ your way through an affirmative-action-for-rich-people ivy league education, you too can become President of the most powerful nation on Earth.
But then, just because I could, I hit reload on an open window of CNN's homepage. And there it was: still too close to call! During the night, it seems, the race had been called for Bush, then, as returns continued trickle in in Florida, the Gore had narrowed the lead. By now you know the story: it's a nasty knot of intrigue in Florida, deliciously complicated by the fact the fratboy's brother happens to be governor there.
The confusion about the election gave me a feeling not too different from bipartisan patriotism; I was charged up and happy for most of the day. After all, even if it's decided that Bush won the election (without the popular vote and in the shadow of allegations of voting irregularities in Florida), he'll be a weak president and many will regard him as illegitimate.

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