Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").
decay & ruin
got that wrong
fun social media stuff
Like my brownhouse:
Rasputin at the book fair
Tuesday, December 2 1997
f course, there are ways the Journal of JEL could improve, if only Eric would be willing to borrow from the example of other online journalists. If he combined the short straightforward sentences of Going Through the Motions with the dark coiled passions of The Meyhem Project, with a dash of Andrew Denyes for truely inspired randomness, we could make that matzo light & fluffy in no time.
But I still want to know, who is this Gertrude Stein that provides a trenchant clear mind that in whatever fashion, let us announce, orders deluge upon the Sahara of online journals that they may exuberantly send blessed nubile tendrils genuflecting at Sol?
et again, today I drove the Dodge Dart on a mission to visit my folks at their little farm south of Staunton. This time the intent was mainly to install System 8.0 on my mother's Macintosh.
My Dad and I were discussing politics as I raided the magic refrigerator. He said that, in his opinion, Bill Clinton is even more disgusting than Ronald Reagan. At least Ronald Reagan was for real. He believed in the right wing policies he supported. Bill Clinton, on the other hand, governs based on poll data. I immediately came up with a case in point: If polls suggested that the average American supported the orderly disposal of the Jews, Bill Clinton would be cutting ribbons at modern versions of Auschwitz and Treblinka. It's hard to call Bill Clinton a leader given that all he has ever done is conform his policies to the most short-sighted average American whim, from Internet decency
While we're on the subject of disgusting things supported by Bill Clinton's Joe Average constituency, take a look at the horrific picture at right, excerpted by my Dad from the Staunton Daily News Leader. People are really coming together in support of those squeaky-clean all-American septuplets. Why, it's just like a barn raising, I hear tell. Evidently the damage of their added burden to health, educational and eco-systems isn't even quite enough; they have to release balloons and choke some sea turtles as well!
I hadn't napped at all since getting off work, so I was fairly sleepy on the ride up I-81.
In an almost 19th Century scene, Don came by briefly, stalking like Rasputin through a group of hapless Amish girls1 on his way to beg an additional 50 cents off of me. I pretended I didn't know him and that he was a escaped mental patient. Hoagie caved in and gave him the change.
n the drive back south, we stopped in downtown Staunton. Staunton is such a pretty little town. It doesn't have all that dowdy Jeffersonian architecture so common in Charlottesville; it's more in the style of Gothic Revival, with gargoyles, lacy adornments and, best of all, spires. Staunton is a city of spires. Since the downtown sits on the side of a big hill, the spires are arranged like spectators at a football game. I miss seeing that sort of thing on the occasions when I need to transact "official business." I hadn't been there in a long time, but of course nothing much had changed, except that the sidewalks are being replaced with bricks. It looks good that way, definitely more Wizard of Oz. Too bad Kansas-flatland-inspired developers continue their landmoving assaults on the roots of Betsy Bell, one of the two tall forested hills within the city.
The inside of Co-ART is still mostly unfinished, but it's coming along nicely. Hoagie gets to be a proud mother hen about it all, since it was her idea.
Back in the Shaque, I napped for about an hour on the couch downstairs (I'm still scared of anomaly-inflicting spiders who might still dwell up in the bunk area).
fter I'd gathered up all my loot and raided the pantry for food, I drove back to Charlottesville under the cover of darkness. Darkness was important; I still don't have a valid inspection sticker.
Deya was just ordering a pizza when I arrived. I was kind of hungry, so I chipped in. While we waited for the pizza, we drank her Schlitzes (courteousy of Meghan Huddleston, Deya has a fake ID now!) and watched the Simpsons and Seinfeld. I'm liking Seinfeld more every time I see it. In the old days it used to be such a let down after the Simpsons.
two non-sequitursThe Downtown Artspace is having an opening at 5pm on Friday (the 5th), and it will feature inexpensive local photography. Both Hoagie and I intend to be there.
I made this term up a while ago and would like to introduce it to my readers:
1Amish girls are another of my fetishistic interests.
one year ago For linking purposes this article's URL is:
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
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