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:
   inevitable comeuppance
Thursday, April 12 2007
There was a half inch of snow on the ground this morning, but by the time I got out of bed the snow had turned to rain (punctuated by occasional waves of sleet hearty enough to make it to the ground before thawing). The dogs didn't get a proper walk until the rain stopped this afternoon. Up until that point, a bored and constipated Eleanor had lain for hours under a blanket on the living room couch. She's shy about her bodily functions and I almost never see her crap, though I know she hates rain enough that she'd sooner deal with the guilt of crapping in Gretchen's downstairs study than get wet.

This evening Gretchen and I watched a movie called The Rise of Taj, a poorly-conceived comedy full of humorless gags and lingering boob shots. Gretchen had ordered it as part of her ongoing interest in what she sees as a wave of movies exploiting Indian characters (possibly reflecting a faddish fetishizing of them by pop culture). For some reason we watched it all the way to its excruciatingly predictable ending. And despite all its negatives, we nevertheless felt uplifted by the pompous assholes getting their inevitable comeuppance before the credits rolled.

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