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:
   instead feel scalding hot
Monday, November 7 2016
Today was a slow news day, but I was nevertheless distracted by what news there was. This was, of course, the last full day before the most consequential election of my lifetime. I could be wrong, but when there's a normal American politician running against what appears to be the human equivalent of an asteroid impact, it definitely feels that way. I got very little done in my remote workplace.
Meanwhile, I've had more success metering doses from my home-grown habañero peppers. I ate two rapidly-made burritos today that were spiced about perfectly, and this evening when Gretchen returned from some distant school district to the south bearing sandwiches from a previously-unknown vegan restaurant, I almost injected them with enough spice by dropping slivers of pepper between the bread and the pesto-like filling.
Later, though, there was enough habañero juice on the sides of one of my fingers for comfortable-feeling bathwater to instead feel scalding hot.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?161107

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