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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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   early evening ending
Friday, April 23 1999
About all I wanted to do in the evening was watch television coverage of and read stories about the recent massacre at that high school in Littleton, Colorado.
Salonmag.com is a welcomed break from the useless hand-wringing one typically sees in conventional broadcast journalism. Here're some good articles:

Of course it happened here - A woman who actually grew up in the souless suburb of Littleton isn't surprised in the least that the outcasts finally snapped in that town.

The rumor that won't go away - Were the two messed-up trench-coat-clad juvenile terrorists gay? Were they ostracized because they might have been? Was 'gay' just another handy epithet to hang on those uninteresed in the outcome of football games?

"We called it 'Littlefun'" - As opposed to, say, Big Fun. Another Littleton resident discusses the existential bleakness of this typical American suburb.

The massacre in Littleton casts full illumination upon what I find so irritating about the creative output of my workplace, far beyond our lamely Schteveish domain name. Today I put up a message board specifically for people to exchange their views on the massacre. Since I was setting it up, I had the honour of posting a preliminary test message. I thought I'd open things up with my typical subversion:

One thing this tragedy has taught me that I didn't know, but am very glad to know, is that Marilyn Manson is a member of what Sam Donaldson calls "The Gothic Movement." I also learned that, far from being alienated drama students, Goths are in fact racists and fascists who respect the memory of Adolf Hitler.
It's still up, and after hundreds of postings, it's probably the only message with any subtlety or intelligence on the whole fucking board. Most of the postings by other (supposedly educated) people refer to God and say nothing that can't be found pre-printed on Hallmark cards. I'm terribly disappointed with the members of the community whose infrastructure I maintain. I feel like I'm doing lights for a Christian lite rock band. I want a cool job. Where are my horns? I want to work for Ozzy.

Big dark clouds were over my head on both my commutes today, but somehow any rain that fell was falling elsewhere. The clouds had all sorts of holes in them, allowing the sun to poke through in a few scattered places to the ground. These beams of sunlight looked like heavenly search lights. It was enough to make a Rory believe in God.
As we were watching teevee, I seduced Kim in a somewhat perverted way on the couch. We headed off to bed and the night ended early.


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