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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


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   correcting daily annoyances
Friday, September 8 2006
The other day George W. Bush announced that, yes, there have been secret prisons, and yes, the methods used for interrogation in those places weren't the usual HBO & anal sex with the cellmate. But it was all for the best, because, well, we have to trust him. If I was the relative of someone killed on Nine Eleven, I don't know how satisfied I'd be with "special military tribunals" for the people accused of being involved in the attack. A "conviction" in a kangaroo court, while possible to regard as justice, doesn't leave a satisfaction that stands the test of time. If the evidence is so good against these guys, why not subject them to our judicial system? Of course, none of this is really about justice or the victims or any of things it's being said it's for. It's to give Bush some sort of Dirty Harry moment in some fantasy world where Americans still have faith in the instructions of his gut. What's dispiriting is that I'm not hearing a systematic reality check on the legal nonsense Bush is spouting.

I don't have much faith in the instructions of guts, but I'm continually amazed by the instructions I find on the web for correcting daily annoyances. Today I finally got around to doing something about the Honda Civic hatchback's SRS light, which has been shining since the day Gretchen and I picked up the car in New Hampshire on Christmas Day last year. The instructions I found were perfect, though they tended to be a little overly-cautious. The connector that you have to jumper several times with proper timing actually sits in a blank socket above the dashboard fuse box, with no wires connecting to it at all. There's no need to worry about accidentally deploying the air bag while removing it or jumpering it.

This afternoon I drove to Tivoli for one of my now-infrequent housecalls. It was a three hour affair and I managed to do good work and satisfy the client, but by the end I was exhausted and, because I'd been talking so much, I felt like I was coming down with a cold.

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