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
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Like my brownhouse:
   irrational sandbox toddlers
Tuesday, February 20 2001
It seems that hardly a day goes by that someone doesn't look at me and say, "Gus, you look really tired." It doesn't seem to matter too much how I feel at the time, although admittedly this sort of observation is much more likely to be made if I slept poorly, I was on drugs or I was terribly drunk the night before. But lately I've come to the conclusion that I'm just looking older and older and nobody can quite believe it. I'll never forget the time John, Maria and I were watching teevee and some famous actress was on and John asked, "What's wrong with her? She looks really bad," and Maria responded, "oh, she's just getting old."

Linda's network access and email were mysteriously down this morning, completely without explanation to anyone, even the UK CTO. It didn't seem good; it reminded me of all the cowardly dotcom firings you read about. You know the kind I mean, the ones that are done completely without warning, usually as electronically as possible. Well, work still had to be done, so I let Linda use my login and we corresponded by AIM and Yahoo email instead.
Later on at night Linda told me that one of the senior executives in the company had been displeased to learn that Linda was working for the UK site and had ordered her terminated, without bothering to consult either me or the UK people. Evidently Linda had said a few cutting things during her exit interview and these hadn't been forgotten. I really don't understand my workplace at all; it's as if it's run by a bunch of irrational sandbox toddlers who care far more about personal dignity than they do about the health of the company they're pissing away into bankruptcy. Oh well, I won't be here all that much longer.

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