Woke up feeling like the National Sleep Debt, danced with daughter to Fatboy Slim’s remix of magic carpet ride
until we were late for school, returned back to struggle (unsuccessfully) with Skype for ORG board meeting call-in, email, run off to record Cranky Geeks, skidaddled to have lunch with Ben Goldacre, who I’d not met before (although am apparently in some big conspiracy with) but I now like a bit too much. Exchanged anecdotes regarding survivalists, on being sued, Americana, assorted data valdez, epidemiology. Had awful suspicion he is as charming as this with everyone. Quick email catch-up, run to pick up daughter. Daughter suggests we explore, get stuck on wrong side of Bernal Heights, shiver as fog closes in, ruefully consider that we may have to survive on only the toy dogs that we find abandoned outside hilltop aromatherapy spas, spend rest of evening trying to find useful link to Fatboy Slim’s remix of “Magic Carpet Ride” to begin this blog with. Wave fist at errant god of consistent metadata and music business models. Talking of which, I am vaguely cheered by continuing leaks of voluntary-collective-license-like systems being considered in UK, although still cautious about technological implementation, privacy issues and other yet unanswered questions, also how close labels always get to this before rearing like frit horses and then galloping off, and, most of all, just how fantastically, painfully, and repetitively smug Andrew Orlowski is going to be if it does come together. Decriminalising millions and saving the music industry will barely make up for it.
Content-free post, so as tradition demands I shall spackle it up with yet another old column from Linux User and Developer, called Danger Dot File. I don’t care what you think, I find these pieces intensely amusing, if only out of amazement that I have lived in an age where one can be paid to write jokes about Unix configuration settings.
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