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

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   a little beyond the preferred material state
Wednesday, May 14 2003
Something in Slashdot about creating an exclusively WiFi transcontinental digital link led me to a website about the mid-80s phenomenon called "Hands Across America." I'd nearly forgotten about it. Hands Across America had all the hallmarks of 80s activism: it was uncontroversial, its goals were modest, and its goals tended to be more about symbol than substance. The cause being supported by Hands Across America was supposedly the plight of the homeless, but in retrospect it seemed to be more about getting people to join hands to form a really cool human chain. After all, Ronald Reagan himself participated, using the same hands that had signed legislation emptying the mental wards and filling our streets with unemployable schizophrenics. The eighties were bad, but they seem positively enlightened by the standard being set since September 11th, 2001.

I spent most of the day working on a website for a client. This was one of the jobs I'd been putting off until after the wedding. I don't especially enjoy conventional web work, particularly when it involves lot of tweaking and retweaking as the whims of the client change. If this was more of a long term job, I'd have a system of easily-tweaked functions cranking out the pages, but the scale of this project and the uncertain nature of its underlying server technology forces me to keep things simple.

Gretchen went to the dentist today and had some fillings installed. The dentist told her that he had to inject her with an extra large amount of novocaine because the fillings were in the lower teeth, a place where the Creator hired a low-bid subcontractor who skimped on wiring. There is, the dentist explained, only one nerve handling signals from each mandible, whereas the upper teeth get one nerve for each pair of teeth. I don't know why this necessitates more pain killer, but I do know that Gretchen was unusually uncomfortable this evening. I made her pasta and cooked it a little beyond the preferred material state of al dente.

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