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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   hypothetical Turturro film
Saturday, December 22 2001
Gretchen and I are flying to Paris in late January, so I've been having to assemble the things necessary to get a passport. I've had to write to Maryland for my birth certificate and today I had to go down to 7th Avenue to have my photograph taken.

Every time Gretchen and I walk down President Street to 7th Avenue, we walk past John Turturro's brownstone. About as often as not we can see him or his wife through the window. Usually he's doing something in the kitchen like talking on the phone or else fixing himself a peanut butter sandwich. For the past couple days Gretchen and I have been joking that we should produce our own film starring John Tuturro. It would feature snips of video shot of him covertly through his window, interspersed with shots of us having conversations filmed in and around our brownstone in which we discuss our growing or potential "relationship" with Mr. Turturro. As Gretchen pointed out, the the film would be sort of like Being John Malkovich in that John Turturro would have a unique roll in it that only he could play. The best thing about it, however, would be that we could produce a film starring John Turturro, yet he would have no idea he had acted in it.
Typical of our Saturday nights of late, Gretchen and I played several rounds of Boggle® and Scrabble®. I know some of my readers find accounts of such past times dreadfully boring, but truth be told, I wish I'd taken up Boggle® many years ago as alternative to some of the less intelligent things I used to do.

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