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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Like my brownhouse:
   December 10, 1996, Tuesday-the first to get pink flamingos
Tuesday, December 10 1996 Following work, at 10am, off to Staunton was I, driving my Dodge Dart, noting its weaknesses, thinking thoughts of how wonderful a tune-up might be.

Nothing much was going on at my childhood home. I devoured a couple ham and swiss bagels and then took a nap that lasted until the late afternoon.

The horses were breaking out when I awoke, but that was an issue for my mother and not for me, surprisingly enough. My job was to pick up pizza and beer from town in the Dart.

"How tacky" thought I.
On the way back with three large pizzas and a twelve of Molsen Ice, I noted that a nearby trailer, living in blissful ignorance on the Folly Mills floodplain, had been decorated in festive redneck fashion for the holidays, with strands of lights defining the edges and major details of the structure. "How tacky" thought I. But then I wondered, what about the first man who ever decorated his trailer thusly? Surely he was an innovator. Surely he commanded respect from everyone in his Appalachian hollow. Perhaps so too was the first person to ever erect a pink flamingo in his yard. There was after all a time before which pink flamingos existed only as living breathing birds.


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