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
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Irving housing

got that wrong

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Like my brownhouse:
   possible pit falls of Pit Bulls
Thursday, February 6 2014 [REDACTED]
At around 5:00pm today Susan and David arrived from Manhattan, having arrived from Los Angeles this morning. They'd rented a big SUV on a mission to pick up their two small Pit Bulls Darla and Olive, who had been staying with us for the past nine days. They were very apologetic about Darla's copious fecal output, most of which had happened indoors and required cleanup. They also learned of the huge fight that had happened the other day involving all the dogs (but mostly Eleanor and Ramona). They wouldn't learn that in the course of that fight, Ramona had inadvertently bitten me until later during dinner when I rolled up my sleeves and they saw the injury on the dorsal surface of my right forearm.
The four of us went out to dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant, La Florentina (out on Albany Avenue near the new awesome Indian restaurant). We ordered the usual (including two sformato calzones of red cabbage and tahini). It's like heaven in the mouth, though it turned out that David wasn't really into the red cabbage itself (though he loved the bread). In addition to a discussion of the possible pit falls of Pit Bulls, we talked at some length about Susan's stepfather, whom Susan and David had visited while in Los Angeles. The guy sounded like a caricature of a right wing lunatic. He had it all: racism, extreme paranoia about Obama "rounding up" fat retired white people such as him, hatred of Obamacare, and inability to talk about anything but those subjects. Unsurprisingly, his only source of information is Fox News. You'd think a successful retired oral surgeon whose primary current interest is golf would be a little more discerning of his new sources than that, but you'd be wrong.
Back at the house, I made a french press of coffee for Susan and David, and then they packed up their dogs and drove back to Manhattan.

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