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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Like my brownhouse:
   nonsense in alien hieroglyphs
Monday, October 8 2007
It's been an easy October so far, with mild nights and warm days. Today temperatures reached into the 80s yet again. It was a great day for being out in nature.
While walking the dogs this morning, Gretchen got lost in the forest. She followed one of my many stick trails to its end, but then she saw that it continued as an obvious trail and so continued on it, not sensing that she was going down-down-down hill all the way to those cliffs above Hurley Mountain Road. My trail system sticks to the highlands (500 feet above sea level and higher), but what she'd followed was a mountain bike trail that led far outside my jurisdiction, more than a vertical football field below. At the bottom of the hill she was hot, thirsty, and exhausted, and so went to that trailer at the intersection of Dug Hill Road and Hurley Mountain Road, where she got the woman living there to let her use the phone. That phone, by the way, was a total piece of shit whose LCD was displayed an ever-changing sequence of random segments, spelling out nonsense in alien hieroglyphs. But for whatever reason I didn't answer the phone when Gretchen called, so she had to walk the uphill mile back home without me (and the handy fossil fuels at my disposal).


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?071008

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