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:
   scads of balusters
Sunday, November 13 2005
The weather yesterday had become warm throughout the afternoon and by today temperatures were nearing the sixties. And there I was up on the solar deck putting in scads of balusters (more than forty) to keep the babies of wantonly negligent parents from falling to their deaths. I had to attach most of the balusters to the outside of the rails because diagonal braces were in the way on the inside. Just west of the northeast corner, though, the diagonal brace was on the outside of the rail and I didn't want to intrude on deck real estate by attaching the balusters on the inside, so I actually cut them each at an angle and fit the pieces around the brace, a laborious job I wouldn't recommend to the impatient.
As I worked, I was listening to the This American Life episode about the "teenage embed" in Afghanistan. The "embed" was the Americanized 18 year old son of a powerful Afghan political leader recording accounts of his travels and travails in one of the most persistently fucked up countries on the planet. In one scene our teenage narrator is sent, as a goodwill gesture, to accompany an Afghan who is being asked to turn himself in to American authorities. This Afghan subsequently turns up dead, probably beaten to death, we learn later, by a CIA contractor. Ah, the war on tair.

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