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:
   under the stone at the end of the J curve
Monday, February 20 2006
Today was an American holiday held to honor one of our country's more devalued commodities: its presidents. I say this because it's pretty clear at this point that Terri Schiavo would make a more effective leader than the one currently running "the world's only superpower."
Our houseguests would be returning to the city today, but before they left they launched an unprecedented cleaning jihad, leaving us with an immaculate house. As they worked I snapped pictures of Bruce the big-headed pit bull and then read the Malcolm Gladwell article about problematic J-curve demographics in the New Yorker. An indication of how good a Malcolm Gladwell article is that after you're done reading it, suddenly everything in your life seems to be perfectly explained by it. For example, someone out in cyberschpace has been complaining about the new internet stream at the radio station I work for, and I realized that this person was just a tough customer from an extreme end of a J-curve. Making 99% of the customers happy had taken X hours of work, but to please this one person would take an additional X hours. For this reason, the only rational basis for pleasing people at the far end of a J curve is to keep them from burning down your house and ass-raping your women.

Bruce the pitbull.


Bruce (foreground) and Sally.

From right: Ray pushes and broom and his brother-in-law Adam stands beside Bruche the pitbull. In background Nancy washes dishes.

Eleanor, in one of her common poses near the woodstove.

Julius (aka "Julio" and "Stripey") easing himself down the stairs with the growing realization that the strange black dogs have left the building.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

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