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:
   git 'er done
Tuesday, February 24 2015
At a little before 10am, I started the process of installing a new set of website code on the virtual servers belonging to the Los Angeles theatre chain I've been working for for the past six months. To do this, I use the code repository program known as git, which I execute in a terminal window from frigid Upstate New York, though the effects are mostly felt in sunny southern California. Mostly because I'm the least risk-averse, I always end up being the one who throws the switch on the things that could cause catastrophe and get people in trouble.
When, as always happens, a simple git pull lt master failed, I did some quick research and decided to execute a git reset --hard HEAD, which is a basically a command to git to "git 'er done!" The effect of this was to copy some, but not all, of the stuff from the repository to the web server while deleting everything on the server not in the repository. That latter action was troubling, so I thought quickly and made a copy of the list of deleted things git spewed forth. It soon turned out that a bunch of things had gone missing, all of them created outside the web development process (mostly via file uploaders, but also via direct FTP). None of these things were in the git repository, and so all of them had been deleted. At about this time, one of the guys I deal with at the theatre chain got on Skype and I had to break the bad news. Unfortunately, a quick examination of Amazon web services showed that there was no recent backup. I had a backup on my local hard drive, but it was from our last code release back in December. It was something, but it was incomplete.
In the end, we managed to scratch together almost all the lost files, so it turned out to be less of a disaster than initially feared. This mild fiasco was probably actually a good thing, because it drew attention to a fundamental problem about the live site, for which git provides only the appearance of backup. The four of us on the site's web development team are still learning where its bodies and landmines are buried.
I spent much of the afternoon tracking down and fixing annoying URL discrepancies causing mixed content issues on the theatre site, though at some point I took a break and assembled a large cat castle that had arrived in a box placed in front of our door. The castle included many platforms and columns, all of which formed a structure 71 inches tall. It included two small windowed rooms, three crows nests, and a fake mouse dangling from a string. All but its overhead surfaces were covered by either fine plushy fabric or rope intended to be clawed. The castle was an immediate hit where I'd assembled near the front door, and later Gretchen and I carried the bulky thing upstairs and placed it just beneath the sloping wall-ceiling of the teevee room, where there is lots of open space just begging for structures like cat castles. Gretchen and I would also like to get a number of large bean bags.

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