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:
   ethernet pole-to-pole
Monday, February 2 2004
The weather continued to be relatively warm, so I did an outdoor ethernet wiring job down at the residence of the Stone House People. The idea was to make it so a computer out in a remote studio building could use broadband available in the house. Originally the plan had been to bury an ethernet cable in the ground, something that would be impossible at this time of year. But inspecting the situation today, I realized all the wires going out to the remote studio were strung between telephone poles. So I decided to run the ethernet wire that way. I didn't think it could support its own weight spanning the 200 feet between poles, so I wrapped it around a suspended television cable for the middle section of the span. Even with a ladder, I couldn't get very close to the television cable, so I had to repeatedly toss the ethernet cable over it from the ground like a Wild West cowboy practicing the tricky skill of giraffe lassoing.
In the sun it was so warm that I could feel its heat on my trousers, which were brown corduroy. It was warm enough to work without gloves, which was good because it seems Gretchen and I only have one good pair of gloves between us.

Afterward I went to the Uptown Hannaford [REDACTED] to buy some groceries. I made the mistake of shopping while hungry, and my carbohydrate craving caused me to buy three bags of corn chips. The guy who was bagging the groceries had the appearance of someone who was both educated and hip, two characteristics uncommon of Hannaford shoppers, let alone employees. There had to have been something unseen that was terribly wrong with him accounting for his having such a miserable job. Or perhaps he was working undercover for 20/20. "So you're a big fan of corn chips?" he asked me. I'd never really thought of myself as a "big fan of corn chips," but I guess I am. "It's a great thing to eat when you can't think of anything else," I replied.

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