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").



links

decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff


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Like my brownhouse:
   it's really not so bad
Wednesday, November 18 1998
The bike ride to work every morning takes a rather long time, but I'm glad I'm doing it. Now I have a long period scheduled into every day during which I can passively observe nature, make plans, conceive strategies and think through interesting ideas, without much in the way of distraction or obligation. There's virtually no other people for the first half of the ride along the San Diego River, and then on Friar's Road the traffic is light and respectful. There's no exertion necessary because there's almost no topographic variation. It's five miles of clear sailing, and if my bike weren't a 25 dollar yard sale purchase, I'd probably make it to work in less than a half hour.
Now when I come into my workplace, I walk discretely past the big center room, filled with my sleepy-looking co-workers. They're assembled to hear the ranting motivational banter of Tony Robbins and learn how to tap into that "unused 97%" of their brains. Sure, they don't have to attend (and now there's a few of us who don't) but it's obvious where the Grand Pooh Bah stands on this issue. He's said that raises and promotions only go to those who mimic his behaviour and listen to the tapes. For anyone who really hopes to get ahead in this firm, Tony Robbins is an ordeal that must be undertaken. As a web programmer who will one day be able to take my pick of other places to work, such guarantees of advancement are unnecessary; I'll inevitably reach a stage when I can renegotiate my terms. Those in sales and marketing, on the other hand, have to play the game no matter what it is. I can't help but wonder if the VP and Director of Marketing, an older gentleman hired fairly recently, isn't just a little humiliated by being forced to attend these ridiculous mind re-education sessions. As young, mentally flexible and immature as I am, I couldn't stand the indignity and I rebelled. But he's fifty something years old! Can he face his wife at night with the dignity of an intact man?
Now that there are others clearly not participating in Human Development, I don't have to feel like such an outsider in my own workplace. I can sit at my desk, crank up the Sepultura on my headphones, and the Hitleresque ranting from the center room degrades to an unpleasant memory. And now I have as much as a half hour every morning to do whatever I want. It kind of reminds me of my Redneckistani public elementary school days, when I'd get to spend a class period every week in the library doing whatever I wanted while all my non-atheist classmates went off to a trailer just off school grounds to learn the wonderful things Jesus has in store for His people.
My productivity is coming back; no longer am I feeling angry unionist pangs sweeping over my body. My mind is once again filled with JavaScript, Visual Basic and strategies for applying them to my "challenges," doing my part with every cognitive moment so my company can one day take over the world, even though it's clear now that it doesn't deserve to.
The ride home every night is long, dark and vaguely dangerous. It's not as pleasant to ride along the river when I can't look down and see the birdlife.

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http://asecular.com/blog.php?981118

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