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:
   good beer and crap beer
Saturday, December 8 2012
Gretchen drove down the City early this afternoon, though she'd be back later tonight. Due to a desperate lack of cat dry food, I went on an errand of my own shortly thereafter, this time to Barnyard Pet Supply out on Route 28. Before repairs begaon on the Wynkoop culvert, there were only three destinations that required driving on Hurley Mountain Road all the way to Route 28: Kenco (the outdoor recreation superstore), Skytop Steakhouse (famous for their fries), and Barnyard Pet Supply. With Wynkoop closed, though, I've had to drive up to Route 28 every time I've needed to get to Kingston (though a reader recently told me about a bypass involving agricultural roads through the corn fields that Google Maps can be coerced into displaying). So you can imagine my surprise when the drive that was to take me up to Route 28 passed a now-open Wynkoop. The culvert had been repaired, though I didn't have a need to cross it yet.
There is only one place to buy beer on the way to Barnyard and back, the Hess station on Route 28. It's big and clean inside, but the beer selection was disappointing. I needed some good beer as well as some crap beer, and unfortunately for me, the closest they had to the sort of good beer I like was the Saranac Trailmix sixpack, which comes with only one bottle of their failish IPA (though their Pale Ale is pretty good, and there were two of those). As for crap beer, the choice was obvious: a sixpack of 16 ounce cans of Icehouse, a beer I've been consistently drinking for most of my adult life (and only recently supplanted somewhat by Stewart's Mountain Brew Beer Ice).

I did some actual money-earning work back at the house and gradually turned the day over to the simple pleasures of hanging around the house by myself: cheap beer, crappy television, past-shelf-life marijuana, and a hot bath. I had some good insights again while smoking pot in the bathtub, but they were mostly about a plot-within-a-plot for an erotic psychological thriller.

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