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:
   my thankfully devoured bank
Thursday, October 15 1998
When I woke up this morning I went directly into the shower and thought about the Folgers Coffee advertising jingle which goes, "The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup." Like most advertising, it's a sneaky manipulation of common sense, especially when you consider that in reality, the best part of waking up is the fact that you're not dead.

Two years ago when I opened my Nations Bank account, I did so because it was the only bank on Charlottesville's Corner, very close to where I lived (on Wertland Street in those days). All was fine until this July, when I attempted to transact bank business in southeastern Michigan. As it turns out, there aren't any Nations Banks in Michigan. And when I moved to San Diego in September, I soon discovered there weren't any Nations Banks here either. I figured I'd have to open up an account with a local branch of some other massive banking conglomerate if I wanted to cash some of the checks that have been accumulating in my Normal Heights cabana. Bank of America looked like a good choice; branches could be found in Ocean Beach and Mission Valley, places where I'd be passing much time in the next months.
But the other day I discovered a wonderful thing. Bank of America had just bought out Nations Bank. My Nations Bank accounts were now Bank of America accounts and my Nations Bank VISA cash card was now a Bank of America VISA cash card. I wouldn't have to lift a finger. Normally the subject of bank mergers wouldn't interest me in the slightest, but in this case it seemed as if the fates were actually acting on my behalf.
Tonight I did my second-ever free money withdrawal from a Bank of America cash machine. The first had happened at the Bank of America branch in Hillcrest the day we bought the desk from the punk rock dude, but I hadn't even noticed the difference from the bad old days when I was charged $1.50 for such transactions.

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