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:
   reveal a deeper abyss
Wednesday, May 5 2004
Distractions, distractions. It isn't just the sheer number of projects to which I need to be applying myself. It's also the crazy news, and its easy availability on the web. I keep hitting refresh on, wondering how the hell this hell might ever be escaped, via handbasket, hand grenade, or otherwise. I keep saying, "Just when you think it can't get any worse, this happens," thinking this has to be the last time. And just when I think I can't get any angrier at the maniacs running this country like some sort of retard Enron, they reveal a deeper abyss in their depravity. In addition to my hatred for what they're doing to the world and America, I hate what they're doing to Americans. I hate that they've sent tens of thousands of men and women into Iraq and made them into the kind of psychopaths who stand around grinning while prisoners are tortured, sexually assaulted, and otherwise humiliated. What is to become of America when these troops come home and attempt to assimilate into civilian society? What unique horrors can we expect from people who routinely referred in writing to individual live Iraqi prisoners with words like "it"?

From the New Yorker article:

SFC Snider grabbed my prisoner and threw him into a pile. . . . I do not think it was right to put them in a pile. I saw SSG Frederic, SGT Davis and CPL Graner walking around the pile hitting the prisoners. I remember SSG Frederick hitting one prisoner in the side of its [sic] ribcage. The prisoner was no danger to SSG Frederick. . . . I left after that.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

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