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:
   preparations for spring cleaning
Wednesday, May 7 1997

A question to ask in your next conversation: How long can I interest you talking about this conversation?


hings started falling into place in a few respects today. I received email from Christopher Makos concerning an interesting project he has planned for me. It also looks like another issue of the Blue Penny Quarterly is soon to be published, and again I will be the one doing the HTML on a volunteer basis. The last issue received good reviews, but no laurels or garlands. Also, I'm happy to say, of late I've been corresponding much more with Jessika. She and Sara Poiron are coming to Charlottesville on Friday for the Dynashack's Space Party II (where are you going to be that night?), so the weekend is going to be interesting. I printed out a flyer for the party, but it looked much worse on paper than it did on screen. What I'd seen hadn't been exactly what I'd gotten. Most important of all, I discovered my dental insurance paper work and it looks as though I'm insured after all. I'm such a ditz when it comes to having all my forms in order. I need either a secretary or a mom.

Monster Boy is going on food stamps; I had to fill out one of his forms since I represent the roof over his head.

Back at the Dynashack, Ches was doing extensive spring cleaning, and it made me feel guilty. I started the process of straightening up my room, which will probably have people in it during the Space Party. But I only scratched the surface, putting some paintings up on the walls and pulling the remaining three wheels off of an old swivel chair (so it would be stable) and moving it out to the porch.

Meanwhile her dog Deeohji was seeing to it that Floyd the Cat stayed in his place: up a magnolia tree.
I talked with Catherine deGood on the front porch for awhile. She was in a misanthropic mood and was looking for evidence that good people exist in the world. Meanwhile her dog Deeohji was seeing to it that Floyd the Cat stayed in his place: up a magnolia tree. I drank a few Mooseheads that I'd stolen from my parent's house two days ago. Inside, couples were cooking semi-romantic dinners for themselves. Yuck.


n Wertland Street today, some girl who attends the UVA law school came driving out of a driveway without looking and hit Theresa's black Monte Carlo. This is according to Elizabeth, who was a witness. Elizabeth was disturbed because immediately after the accident, Theresa claimed it was all her, Theresa's, fault. It seems Theresa's poor self esteem contributes to a perpetual sense of guilt that even manifests itself at times when she is legally innocent and should surely say so. Unfortunately, Theresa has no car insurance and that is a crime in this state. What's more, the cop refused to assign guilt to the ditzy sorority law school girl. He told her and Theresa to have their insurance companies work it out. Since Theresa has no insurance company to fight for her, no doubt she will be the one paying money.

I have never in my life beheld a web site so large that talks so exclusively about itself.

ollowing the recommendation of Gregory (of Planet Gregory), I've been going through the archives of Elly's Slice of Cyberpie with a growing sense of morbid fascination. I have never in my life beheld a web site so large that talks so exclusively about itself. I can understand a journal in which the content is mostly about its author. But a web site that goes on and on almost entirely about what awards it has won and lost, what servers and domains it has occupied, and the particulars of what has been added and subtracted, edited and tweaked seems to me to be the ultimate excercise in self-reference. It's so singularly dreadful that it makes for wonderful surfing. Thus, with unusual zeal, I pass on Gregory's recommendation.

Daniel Reitman has been complaining to Comet again about the existence of his Big Fun Glossary entry. You see, he was spammed again today by a robot that mistook the C-E page for his web page. The robot claimed that visiting the page had been a "pleasure." Dan said he was getting "more than a little frustrated" by the fact that nothing was being done about the page and the fact that "the only non-automated response I have been getting is insulting e-mails from the user." He went on to threaten, "I may find it necessary to begin working my way through your connection sources." It just goes to show that Dan's social skills and sense of priority have not improved radically since I last saw him in 1990. In other words, he's still a weanie.

Do you enjoy being confused, but would rather not take drugs? I have just the thing.

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