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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Like my brownhouse:
   fading cultural relevance
Friday, March 24 2000
It was another harrowing day of fielding calls from the loan broker and dealing with the incessant demands of the CEO of a web startup who has me doing his web development work for him. I'd get on the internet for a brief time to make some tweaks to his website and database and then quickly withdraw, leaving the one telephone line open for phone calls and faxes. The CEO was especially anxious today, because he'd made plans to present his site to a diverse group of local investors in a "gong show" skit competition (I'm not making this up). The show didn't end up going very well and proved unnecessarily humiliating, with the CEO's act being gonged in less than a minute. "But at least I got to meet with a lot of investors." And so it goes in this crazy dot com startup world in which we now find ourselves.
In such stressful times, there's not much Kim and I can afford to do in the evening but eat 99 cent Chinese food and lie around in bed smoking pot and watching videotape movies. Tonight's flicks were LA Confidential and Hitchcock's original black and white classic Psycho. I became sort of tired of LA Confidential right after the Mexican girl hostage was released, so that's about where we stopped it. We were mostly watching it to become more familiar with the city where we'll soon be living. Psycho, on the other hand, remained interesting throughout. Usually I have trouble watching any movie made before my birth (I suspect it's something about the cultural relevance of the issues being addressed).


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