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:
   Neville's day with a deer hide
Wednesday, December 18 2019
Today was the last day I would be in my workplace for more than two weeks, and I was leaving at an unfortunate time for the importing system that my department now relies on. It's not a perfect product and occasionally needs tinkering to function, and for that reason my boss Alex was nervous about my departure. But before I left today, I managed to do two fairly difficult imports, though, admittedly, one required the building out of a new configuration option.
I returned home with Ramona to find Neville guarding what appeared to be most of a deer hide attached to at least two hooved feet. Gretchen had sent me a photograph of it this morning after he'd dragged it back from the forest and into the house through the pet door. Neville had then given his life over to guarding it, becoming Mr. Guard for the day and skipping a day working as Dr. Neville at the Golden Notebook in Woodstock. After many hours of that, though, he had some awareness that his infatuation was more of a curse than a blessing. So, with some encouragement, I was able to convince him to join Ramona and me on a walk. Except Neville was certain that what I'd been beseeching him to join me in doing was riding around in the Subaru. So, sure, if it meant getting him into a lockable space so I could then throw that deer hide out onto the laboratory deck, we'd all be winners. I ended up taking both dogs for a real drive, all the way to the Tibetan Center thrift store, even though I'd pretty much sworn off that place. Had person working there (the long-suffering woman with the straight grey hair) not been closing up for the night, I would've gone in to see what they were charging for unwantable WiFi routers. But when I saw her with a look of being so done for the night, I didn't even get out of my car.
Our house sitter for the vacation we'd be starting tomorrow would be Liam, a guy from Yonkers who would be arriving tonight. In order to get the house ready, I did a lot of vacuuming, particularly in the living room. After Gretchen came home, she prepared an elaborate meal of handmade pasta, not yet knowing that Liam was both gluten and soy free. At some point, we began wondering what had happened to Liam. Had he been texting? If so, that would be a problem because Gretchen realized she'd left her phone back at the bookstore. So she hopped in the Prius to retrieve it.
It turned out that Liam hadn't had our actual address, so he'd been waiting in the Hurley Mountain Inn parking lot, sending texts into the void. Once Gretchen had her phone back, she could get Liam the information he needed to get to our house.

Tonight was the night that Donald Trump finally got impeached, which is what happens to bad little boys when they amass great power but can't manage the discipline necessary to keep their grubby little hands out of the cookie jar. It hardly matters that the Senate won't hold a proper hearing; this is, at its heart, an indictment of the rot at the heart of Republicanism for which Donald Trump is really only a symptom.

Neville with his deer hide this morning (photo taken by Gretchen).

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