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:
   Boot Dream
Sunday, January 26 1997 I had a dream about my black boots. I dreamed I kept jumping over a couch and catching myself on nails protruding from my boots. So on investigation, in the dream I discovered that the sole of the boot had become detached near the toe. In trying to solve the problem, however, the boot fell into all its constituent pieces. One of these was a metal object that looked like a piece of heavy bent and sharpened rebar attached to the blade of a hoe. It was the size of a large hammer and I have no idea how it would have actually fit in a boot.

I have a pretty normal hangover today. I've been to the Rising Sun Bakery and had my coffee and some very good red bean soup. I guess I'll be eating lots of beans there when it becomes a bloated burrito stand. I'm at UVA's Cocke Hall working on my web pages, doo dee doo. It is 5:19pm and I need to help the housemates clean the house after last night's party.

No expense is spared in the production of an ad intended to be aired during the Super Bowl.
Back at my house the housemates were watching the Super Bowl, which, despite my absolute lack of interest, I joined them to do. The most remarkable characteristic of the Super Bowl is the advertising. No expense is spared in the production of an ad intended to be aired during the Super Bowl. In Super Bowl ads of the nineties, one object is morphed into another with such regularity that one comes to expect the same behaviour of the players on the astroturf. Bob Dole, the recently defeated Republican Presidential Candidate, even starred in a Visa Credit Card commercial (there was something almost embarassing about watching him prostitute himself so soon after his starring in the far more real good versus evil struggle for control of sentient life's one last known superpower). My favourite ad featured a chicken crossing the road to get to a Budweiser. It could have been done on an incredibly low budget, but for some reason its drama was heightened by subtle and no doubt expensive computer manipulations of the hero-rooster's actions to make him seem simultaneously more ridiculous, hesitant and suspenseful.

In fact, the advertising was far more entertaining than the programming. Football is only fun to watch when I am under the influence of marijuana (at such times it takes on a primitive romantic and warlike quality). I think my biggest problem with football is the tasteless garishness of the uniforms. Soldiers in war and politicians cutting sinister deals will always look a lot cooler than football players on astroturf. By the way, the two teams were the New England Patriots and the Greenbay Packers, each from within a few dozen miles of the birthplaces of my respective parents (Hoagie: Keene, New Hampshire; my Dad: Appleton, Wisconsin).

After the advertisements, the most interesting thing about the Super Bowl was watching the reactions of my housemates to the various plays. Elizabeth and Steve were particularly entertaining.

I went to sleep at something like 8:30 pm. I was bored and sleepy.

no more Internet girlfriends for awhile...

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