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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").
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ecological illiteracy Wednesday, November 19 1997 now rocking out to: P.J. Harvey's 4-Track Demos
fter I got off work, I drove around all over Charlottesville looking to buy a camera. I've wanted to have one for awhile, but the thing that has pushed me to actually get one is the fact that one of my correspondents wants some photographs of Charlottesville for a project he is doing, and he wants me to take the pictures. I consider myself a rank amateur when it comes to photography, but I do have an eye for form, negative space, and design, and this informs my photography to an extent. I bought a nice little fully-motorized camera at Snooky's Pawn Shop on the Downtown Mall. It's not the most professional camera in the world, but it seemed well-built, and it came cheap. I went around snapping photos of distinctive landmarks, some of which had been specifically ordered: the C&O, the Court Square Tavern, the Metropolitan, etc. I also took a few pictures on the Corner. The sky was absolutely crystal clear blue, so things were saturated with light. That may not have been the best photographic environment, but it sure beat the typical rainy day that we seem to be having so much of lately. Things could get kind of trippy around here if I keep my nose to the computes learning JavaScript.
was thinking about friendships today, or more to the point, my lack of them. When the rich kid skinheads attack me on the Corner, say, I have no social network developed right now to turn to for support. I've let that whole structure wilt and die. Not that people don't care about me, but my schedule precludes most normal interaction with the people who would normally be my friends. Couple that with the pathology evident in good friend Matthew Hart's recent socializing, and I'm in pretty bad shape.
he news is gushing about a midwestern woman who gave birth today to seven squishy little embryos. She'd been taking fertility drugs of course. Unfortunately the doctors are saying that the plumply wormlike critters all stand a good chance of surviving. The unqualified praise being reflexively showered upon the selfish sow responsible is yet more evidence of a serious crisis of ecological illiteracy in this great land of ours. Natural reproduction is bad enough as it is without unromantic chemical amplification. Ironically, the grandfather of Earth's new burden gave thanks to "God." I cast a plague on his wholesome bloated Christian household, though that might not be necessary (overrun as it is with marginally viable vessels of redundant copies of dumb-headed genes). Skinheads of the future, though they might be in wheelchairs. It's infuriating that no one in the press is willing to address even the social ramifications that taint this picture: Contribute your own thoughts to CNN's Message Board on this disgusting subject.
ore evidence of widespread ecological illiteracy, or at least propagandistic exploitation of widespread ecological illiteracy, was an ad I saw on CNN's Crossfire. Crossfire, as you probably know, is a news issue debate show, where pundits gather to say predictable things about topics of the day. The audience for the show is older, affluent, educated people. Much of the advertising is for Lexus cars and deBeers diamonds. One advertiser, however, is banking on the fact that educated affluent Americans have no idea what exactly a forest is. A paper company ran an ad showing a dreamlike, vaguely greenish greyscale scene featuring a boy in a nostalgic rural setting. The voice-over is a little boy talking about how he'd learned that global warming is caused by carbon dioxide and that trees "eat" carbon dioxide. At this point the boy enters an aseptic pine plantation, where tall thin trees have been planted like rows of corn among neat beds of needles. Here the child gives credit to his Dad for planting so many trees. There's no mention of the forest that used to live on this land, or the vastly more complex ecosystem it had supported. We're expected to accept that a forest can just as easily be comprised of trees growing in perfectly straight rows, without unsightly underbrush, without limbs, without chaos. Those who haven't read it should check out my satirical pro-Bradford Pear letter to the editor. When there's not much going on in my life, I've noticed that it's pretty easy to keep up the flow just by giving my slant on issues of the day.
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