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:
   debe llevarse
Monday, March 16 2009

I got up at 7:30 am this morning so I could be in the Bard computer lab at Eastern Correctional facility by 9am. I was there only to see to it that the new computer lab was being set up correctly. I'd also wanted to fix some corrupted mouse driver files on a couple old Windows ME machines, but the clearance for the installation CD hadn't made it to the front desk and I couldn't get it through. Compact Disks are contraband because, being made of polystyrene, they can be fashioned into bladed weapons. Indeed, some resourceful prisoners have been known to use open flames to temper styrofoam into solid polystyrene and make blades from that.

I was in the prison for a whole module, but I ran out of things to do, so I found myself sitting in a chair writing stream of consciousness sentences in fake Greek (phonetic English written with Greek letters) to keep passersby from reading over my shoulder. My head was pounding because I hadn't yet drunk any coffee.
On the drive home, I stopped for coffee and a bag of dry snackfood at the Citgo in Stone Ridge. While I was there, I went into the bathroom to piss and saw yet another indication that this country is inexorably losing its connection to its English heritage. There was a sign on the wall telling employees that they must wash their hands. But instead of being in English (common) or English and Spanish (even more common) it was only in Spanish. It's still very rare to see a Spanish-only sign in a place as remote as rural Upstate New York, but I expect to see more and more such signs as time goes on. The kicker to this story is the fact that the employees of this particular Citgo, while not native Americans, aren't native Spanish speakers either. They're all Indians, that is, from the subcontinent of Asia.

I'd driven over forty miles today, which added up to more than 80 miles since I'd experimentally installed the oxygen sensor modification circuitry. And still the check engine light hadn't come on. It seemed I'd found a way to modify the oxygen sensor's signal in a way that the car's onboard computer was finding convincing.

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