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:
   barred from a vagina party
Saturday, February 22 2003

Rain fell throughout much of the day, making the already-warm snow increasingly soggy. Interestingly, though, the snow didn't seem to be melting much faster than it has been. The ground beneath it is still frozen solid, of course, so perhaps that kept the melting at bay. In any case, the snow seemed to exhibit entirely different behavior to similar snow accumulations I've seen in similar temperatures back in Virginia. There, when temperatures rose into the forties and rain began to fall, watch out, flooding was a certainty. Indeed, word from my mother had it that the creek in front of my childhood home was doing just that. But here in upstate New York, the rivers and brooks remained largely peaceful.

Our occasional visitor from the City, Mary Pu#dy, came today to spend the night. She was traveling with her mother and had come to the area mostly to attend a so-called "vagina party" in which various women would get together and do some hokey new age ritual in support of one of their number who happens to be pregnant. The ritual would involve the ritual stringing of beads, one provided by each friend. A monkeywrench, however, had been tossed into Mary's participation in this event. One of its organizers had, in a typically non-confrontational California-style way, left a message on Mary's answering service saying that in view of some "issues" that had supposedly been brewing between Mary and the pregnant woman, the women had decided "by consensus" that it would be best for Mary not to come, so that none of her bad energy would affect the pregnant woman in this, her hour of particular vulnerability. After Mary's mother had left and been replaced by Katie (the one from Saugerties), Mary wanted to know what she should do in this situation. This turn of events had traumatized her in a way she hadn't been traumatized since middle school. Gretchen thought she should just blow off the vagina party entirely, but Mary had enough rage to consider going anyway and somehow confronting its consensus-wrapped organizers.

My success with the cash register display product has re-energized my interest in digital logic interfacing projects. I'm particularly interested in things that might be done with old ISA cards and microcontrollers. Since I last explored this subject back in the early 1990s, I didn't know much about modern microcontrollers. But I figured they had to be pretty damn good, what with the level of integration available to silicon wafer jockeys. Interestingly, though, it doesn't seem that microcontrollers have actually made much evolutionary progress since the mid-90s. The tasks they are called upon to do haven't advanced much and people are still using 8751s, though there has been a recent shift to the use of electrically-erasable programmable chips. I'm particularly interested in on 8751 derivative known as the AT89C2051, an electrically-reprogrammable 8751 core wrapped in a small 20 pin package. They only cost $4.50 each and the programmer is $65.00.

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