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:
   presumably Emmanuel clambers
Sunday, November 9 2003
The weather for the past two days has been cold (about freezing) but sunny. It's been good weather for walking in the forest. Today the sun was so warm it was even possible to break a sweat when wearing a good winter coat.

Though it was ubiquitous in the news as it unfolded, I paid no attention to the story of Elizabeth Smart as it unfolded. I felt it was parasitizing the media, stealing headlines that could be better spent exposing the folly of Bush's war. But today Gretchen and I decided to participate in the cultural phenomenon known as "battle of the blands," opting to watch the dramatization of the Elizabeth Smart story instead of the possibly-even-more-pointless Jessica Lynch dramatization (broadcast nearly simultaneously). Well, what can I say, the Smart was so devoid of nuance and detail that it taught us nothing about her abduction and kidnapping that we didn't already know from having accidentally overheard bits and pieces of hyperventilating news stories. All the characters were presented as abstractions, each as featureless as angels in Limbo. The Smarts themselves have no character tics at all, and the family itself has no tics either, except for a perversely extreme Christianity that causes them to pray together before heading off to (hopefully) masturbate. Smarmy though it is, such religious extremism prepares Elizabeth well for a shower-free life with her abductor Emmanuel, who (also supposedly fueled by unusual Christian zeal) takes her into a suspiciously non-Utahan forest to serve as his second wife. Presumably Emmanuel clambers up upon and then fucks the bejesus out of his new 14 year old bride, but this isn't even hinted at in the dramatization. It was the kind of movie that could only be watched while shouting things like "I need her back so she can suck on my woody!" at the screen. In terms of wasted two-hour experiences, it's difficult to think of a single less-substantial rival. I did, however, manage to milk a Randomly Ever After entry out of it.

In other news, today was my brother Don's 39th birthday. He still lives in the room we shared back when I was seven and he was ten. He lives surrounded by pyramids constructed out of books he has lovingly purchased and stacked. The books are all non-fiction works on such subjects as 20th Century dictators, Mesozoic vertebrate lifeforms, hominid evolution, invertebrate biology, and military technology.

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