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:
   Sullivan slush incident
Tuesday, February 23 2010
A wet snow fell for most of the day, with nearly all of it melting on contact with the ground. Gretchen had been scheduled to give a talk about animal rights and veganism to a class of community college students over in Sullivan County, and the weather seemed benign enough for her to take the Honda Civic instead of the Subaru. All was well until she began heading west from Ellenville on Route 52. The road here had been rendered treacherous by a slushy accumulation. She took it slow, but eventually she lost control on one of Route 52's several long straight downhill grades. Ending up in the ditch with the car tilted at 45 degrees, she had a little trouble extricating herself, but she was fine and so was the car. People began stopping to offer help, but all she could think of was not missing her propaganditunity. Eventually she caught a ride with a bull dyke who was headed out to that same community college. The Honda Civic was abandoned where it was for three or four hours.
It turns out that you can't just abandon your car on the side of the road. After an accident, you're supposed to stay with your car. The cops and emergency vehicles showed up and looked for drivers and victims, but none could be found. The car, which was deemed a safety hazard even though it was completely off the road, ended up being towed back to Ellenville.
After her presentation, Gretchen was finally able to get a cellphone signal and called back to whoever you're supposed to call when these things happen. After finding out where the car was, she got a ride from a friend to the Ellenville impound lot. She managed to talk her way out of any sort of violation, and the tow only ended up costing her $75.

This evening the power failed while I was hip-deep in some intensive web development related to an automated phonecall-placing service. It came back up and lasted for another ten minutes or so, but then it died again and was out for the rest of the night. Generators could be heard purring in the night as the various neighbors who cannot abide even a moment of 19th Century living clung precariously to their simulations of The Grid.

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