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:
   temporary tramp stamps for men
Thursday, June 28 2007
One of the downsides of living in a small town (or in a mostly rural community dotted with small towns) is the impossibility of being anonymous, particularly when one ventures to one's usual haunts. This is never more true than at Gretchen's favorite restaurant, the Garden Café. It's a popular eatery for the animal rights activists with whom she spends much of her social time, so it's nearly impossible to go there without encountering one or more of them. This was a factor I failed to consider when Gretchen invited me to join her at the Garden Café tonight for dinner. When we saw one of the photogenic vegan Buddhists in the window, I begged Gretchen not to abandon me at my table to go have an endless conversation about the latest Catskill Animal Sanctuary challenge or triumph. She was good about not doing this, but other people kept coming by and our dinner conversation was constantly interrupted by the need for meaningless small talk. "How are you?" "What've you been up to?" "Sure was hot yesterday!" It may not sound like much of an ordeal but I hated it. For this reason alone, I always have a better time when we go to some place our demographic rarely ventures, such as mom and pop Italian places and other establishments that unapologetically serve veal (not that this delights me).
There was one unfamiliar couple that wandered into the Garden Café unaware. Unlike the other diners, they were plump and their skins were pasty, evidence of a lifetime of fried chicken consumption. They sat there pawing the menu and eating bread for awhile, not sure what to make of a dishes prepared without animal products. Eventually they just got up and walked out.
Meanwhile Gretchen and I had been designing a temporary tattoo for the base of my spine. It would be done in Sharpie Marker and feature a cliché design and the words "Tramp Stamp." I'd reveal it at some point this weekend when Ray, Nancy, and the others would be visiting and they'd all be amazed and appalled by the audacity and madness of a man getting himself a tattoo on that part of his body.

Microsoft has paid me some money to promote their latest slogan. I hereby oblige by linking to my idea of some seriously awesome People Ready Business. Actually, the business there, while obviously ready, would require somewhat more than a normal person would be able to provide, unless armed with an oiled three litre glass bottle.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

previous | next