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:
   excessive mucous production
Tuesday, March 30 1999
I awoke this morning feeling like someone had stuffed sand into the space above the soft palate in the back of the left side of my mouth. It felt overly-dry at the time, but the problem was actually one of excessive mucous production. It just hadn't poked through to the surface yet.
When I first checked my Spies email at work today, I was deluged with 400 messages. My mailing list had suddenly sprung to life and I was being bombarded with bounced emails from the numerous bad addresses in my horrendously unkempt recipient list. It seems that settings I'd tried to configure months ago had finally taken effect, no doubt the result of some sort of system-wide tweaking at the hands of Ceej, Spies web administrator. Additionally, people were abandoning the list in droves, many of them sending clueless emails to me asking to be unsubscribed (to which, if I replied at all, I responded with unhelpfully disingenuous pleas of ignorance). I'm continually amazed by how little traffic it takes to scare people off a mailing list.
Beyond all that, I found it rather strange to suddenly be the third-person subject of an ongoing (and mostly well-written & well-reasoned) email dialogue. Ironically, I was so deluged with bounces that I couldn't muster any response of my own.

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