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").



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got that wrong
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Like my brownhouse:
   kale and Battlestar Galactica
Sunday, August 22 2010
Gretchen left for the city this afternoon to visit relatives (including one who had just bought a 2.5 million dollar 40th floor apartment in Manhattan), leaving me alone in the house with the critters and the robots. It rained all day, coming down for hours at a time in drenching downpours.
I've been choking down some episodes of Battlestar Galactica, Season III. I find some episodes almost unwatchably dull and getting through them is a chore (I know I'm not enjoying an episode if I'm paying close attention to the time counter on the DVD player). At such times watching an episode can feel like choking down a half gallon of steamed kale, though without the nutritional benefits. I have no interest in the various love stories and little patience with the plot when real life events are hewing closely to prophesy. What I prefer are the explorations of how a space-based society functions: how it obtains its raw materials or sorts out its political problems. I'm also intrigued by the Cylons and their separate society and the extent to which they have to behave like scrappy imperfect animals themselves. Like any politics, space politics is a messy business and messy deals must be made, blurring the lines between good, evil, human, and Cylon. That's the sort of thing that made The Wire so good. But The Wire never made me feel like I was eating a half gallon of steamed kale.


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