view doc/the_penguin.txt @ 25633:c384d62009c0

*** Plucked rev b932d4f94f9c771877b6a8a6a1d7dd3ea9c08005 ([e-mail]): Treat FQY responses with no network ID as on the Passport network. Fixes #9240. *** Plucked rev 76f13d0fc7fbff369d01187fcc1b8f517854e119 ([e-mail]): These strcmp checks are for equality, meaning a return of 0. *** Plucked rev a7bd74cbe46498f1390a4d33cce115bdd123a68d ([e-mail]): Add a data parameter for FQY callbacks and remove the pending users list that was previously used instead. *** Plucked rev 84f6765b71f2ad2d6c7cddd461114ab5fc758b72 ([e-mail]): We can't get an ADD error if we never send an ADD command. *** Plucked rev 6d3a0b29b22baeedf393b76044dde689caef3b45 ([e-mail]): Add a msn_notification_post_rml analog. *** Plucked rev 0e2af7d2799397628273f534fac31e6dd7c6fe14 ([e-mail]): Remove some left over code. *** Plucked rev 0841af13da028245cc279ce8f927ff05c0367ae1 ([e-mail]): Check network type, and send an FQY if necessary, when modifying the allow and block lists. Before, users who were not added by you (i.e. spammers) would have no network type and cause disconnects. This should fix it. Fixes #8977. *** Plucked rev a1463341c3bf211c429282870babdb4785c7d817 ([e-mail]): Remove notification-server group commands ADG, REG, RMG as groups are now handled in the AddressBook with SOAP calls.

The Penguin

by Rob Flynn <[e-mail]>
   and
   Jeramey Crawford <[e-mail]>


Once upon a term'nal dreary, while I hack'ed, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten code--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a beeping,
As of some one gently feeping, feeping using damn talk mode.
"'Tis some hacker," I muttered, "beeping using damn talk mode--
                          Only this. I hate talk mode."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak semester,
And college life wrought its terror as the school year became a bore.
Eagerly I wished for privledges;--higher access I sought to borrow
For my term'nal, unceasing sorrow--sorrow for a file called core--
For the rare and radiant files of .c  the coders call the core--
                           Access Denied.  Chown me more.

"Open Source," did all mutter, when, with very little flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Penguin of the saintly days of yore.
Quite a bit obese was he; having eaten lots of fish had he,
But, by deign of Finnish programmer, he sat in the middle of my floor--
Looking upon my dusty term'nal in the middle of my floor--
                           Came, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the tubby bird beguiling my sad code into shining,
By the free and open decorum of the message that it bore,
"Though thy term'nal be dusty and slow," he said, "Linux be not craven!"
And thus I installed a new OS far from the proprietary shore--
The kernel code open but documentation lacking on this shore.
                           Quoth the Penguin, "pipe grep more!"

Much I marvelled this rotund fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help believing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird in the middle of his floor--
Bird or beast sitting in the middle of his cluttered floor,
                           With such instructions as "pipe grep more."

But the Penguin, sitting lonely in that cluttered floor, spoke only
Those words, as if its soul in that instruction he did outpour.
Nothing more did he need utter; understood did I among that clutter--
Understood his command as I could scarcely do a few moments before--
I typed as furious as was willed me, understanding just a minute before.
                           Again the bird said "pipe grep more!"

"Amazing!" said I, "Penguin we will conquor the world if you will!
By the Network that interconnects us--by that Finn we both adore--
We'll take this very world by storm!" For now grasped I what he'd meant,
The thing I do while searching /usr/doc/* for that wond'rous lore--
Those compendiums of plaintext documentation and descriptive lore.
                           Quoth the Penguin, "pipe grep more!"

And the Penguin, never waddling, still is sitting, still is sitting
In the middle of my room and still very cluttered floor;
And his eyes have all the seeming of the free beer I am drinking
And the term'nal-light o'er him glowing throws his shadows on the floor;
And this OS from out the shadows that is pow'ring my term'nal on the floor
                            Shall be dominating--"Pipe grep more!"