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").



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   brutalist architecture that is the sky
Thursday, March 5 2015
When I lifted the blinds this morning to look out at the day, I beheld the concrete dome of overcast and said something about "the brutalist architecture that is the sky," which got Gretchen laughing heartily as I headed downstairs to feed the cats. Soon she went off to walk the dogs, having forgotten about a teleconference she was supposed to join as part of her work for the literacy center. Soon her boss called and left an anxious message on our answering machine, and when Gretchen returned, she hurriedly joined the conference (despite technical difficulties). Meanwhile, I was in the nearby kitchen making myself a burrito from last night's leftover bean glurp. The meeting sounded exactly as one would expect a meeting about the bureaucracy of literacy education in the Hudson Valley to sound, that is, incredibly dull. And the fact that the gentleman leading the conference had a number of verbal tics comprised exclusively of corporate clichés certainly didn't help. His favorite was "moving forward." But as bad as he was, the woman with the smarmy voice who joined him later was even worse. I particularly hated the lingeringly nasal way she pronounced all of the syllables in the word "participated." Eww!
Up in the laboratory, I found that my flushless urinal system had thawed out and drained overnight, making it usable for the first time in nearly two months. (That is by far the longest it has been out of commission since I built it back in 2007.)
I had a meeting with my Lightroom/Webapp client at noon today. At this point, mostly all we're worried about is getting the ecommerce part of the app working. Like everything else in the app, its ecommerce functionality has all sorts of extra complexities. There are discount codes, introductory periods, different payment plans, and some of the billing has to happen automatically on a regular basis (in a manner that is too complicated to implement without storing credit card numbers, and no, I won't be storing them in plain text).

When Gretchen returned home this evening after a meal a friend in Woodstock, she said she'd just gotten a ticked for running the stop sign at the corner of Millstream Road and State Route 375. She'd only just cleared her record a few days ago after having been pulled over for speeding on US 209.


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