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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got that wrong
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Fractal antenna

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Like my brownhouse:
   top of the stairs to you
Friday, February 21 2003

The continued nice weather had me driving around today with the windows rolled down. I was as flamboyant about this as possible, hoping people would notice that I had my arm out with my fingertips casually hooked into the rain gutter above the door. I wanted people to know that I'm no warm-weather pussy, and that when the weather is anything above the freezing point, I'll gladly accept it in lieu of summertime.
[REDACTED]
I picked up several L-shaped pieces of steel to allow me to finish my top-of-the-stairs bannister project. It was a relief to finally complete work on substantially decreasing the danger of my tumbling into the stairwell. At night when I'm drunk and all the lights are off, this stairwell has proven particularly menacing, since it lies directly beside the path into the master bedroom. Negotiating this hazard usually entailed careful steps, each tested with several probes to determine whether or not a floor was present. It should be noted that all the safety measures visa-vis our house's stairs are aimed at preserving the lives of adult-sized people. Children, particularly toddlers, can walk unobstructed beneath the hand rails and tumble to their deaths, to be immediately replaced by our species' boundless fecundity.


The top of the stairs, featuring the World and a little piece of Noah.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?030221

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