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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   various obscene takes on Ding Dong the Witch is Dead
Sunday, November 8 2020
For what was the fourth or fifth day in a row, we were treated to an unseasonably warm, sunny November day. It's almost as if God is smiling down on Joe Biden's victory, making celebrations in the streets of major cities inevitable.
It was my second day in a row of abstaining from caffeine, drinking kratom tea and later some booze instead. This mostly worked, but by this evening I was feeling, well, not exactly miserable, but not 100% either. Still, I managed to gather a heavy backpack of fallen (non-skeletonized) chestnut oak from west of the Farm Road. Then I harassed a shooter down at the bus turnaround by repeatedly singing various obscene takes on "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" into my megaphone from the Gullies Trail. Later, after the early November sunset, I made bean chili, though I didn't add enough salt while adding too much oregano.

At some point this afternoon came the news that Alex Trebek, the long-time host of the quiz show Jeopardy!, had died of pancreatic cancer. As ardent viewers of his show, it's hard for Gretchen and I to imagine his replacement. Hopefully it won't be Ken Jennings. Tonight, as we often do, we watched a recently-broadcast episode of the show. Such episodes will continue for months, since that's how far in advance it is taped.
This evening Gretchen and I watched a particularly stressful episode of the fourth season of Fargo, the one where the child of the character played by Chris Rock (who is living as a hostage with an Italian mafia family) is taken to a bleak Fargoesque landscape to be murdered.


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