The Grand Fallacy

Linux, musical road-dogging, and daily life by Paul W. Frields
 
The Grand Fallacy

Community architects.

Note: Post was delayed to a ridiculous point by house painting, sorry if it’s stale. Yesterday Max posted some details about how recent Red Hat personnel actions affect Fedora, undeniably for the better. Because of the amazing work done over the past year by each and every Fedora community contributor, …

The real deal.

Today our realtor visited and we signed all the papers to start the process of listing the house. We are well underway with packing and making the house a little more bare, which for some odd reason is supposed to appeal to sellers. I remember clearly looking at homes over …

Can’t stop the hack.

Apparently it doesn’t go without saying that hackfests are where amazing stuff gets done fast, so for those of you who missed the memo: HACKFESTS ARE WHERE AMAZING STUFF GETS DONE FAST. Why would I bother parroting this after the FUDCon is already over? Because those of you who are …

Bojangles or Bust.

At FUDCon, between the late night talk, trying to catch up with email, and the realization that HOLY CRAP I HAVE TO FILL MAX’S SHOES NOW, I got a total of roughly nine hours of sleep divided over three nights. Let’s take a tour from the perspective of someone who doesn’t roll out of bed into a vi session. (Yes, I’m talking about you, lmacken — you so pimp.)

I start Thursday night with a rainy 200 mile drive, and check in at the hotel where I find a gaggle of Fedora buddies preparing to find sustenance. I find out that Bojangles is the place to go for some downhome style cooking if time is of the essence. I file this away and resolve to try it out while in Raleigh.

I meet up with Max shortly thereafter for a great working dinner to talk about succession and strategies, and transfer control of the Fedora Orbital Laser briefcase. We have some great kebabs, conversation, and coffee, and then Max drops me off back at the hotel. Due to uncontrollable flight delays, I end up picking up my friend Jared Smith at the airport at about 1:00 a.m. (Seriously, NO WORRIES, man.) When we get back we get into a fistfight over who’s crashing on the couch, meaning we both want to nobly take the couch. I fade a little by the third round and then he’s got me on the ropes throwing crushers at my kidneys, so I crumble and Jared takes the sofa by decision.