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imapsync or pop2imap. You can sync via IMAP to either a local server or to a maildir. Or use POP if you want to keep even the deleted messages (but that won't keep copies of outbound messages).

For replacing GMail, you can always use POP access to download your mail and keep it locally

And loosing all your precious information, like in which folder it is, is it tagged as read, important, etc. ? No way.

The only way to properly copy/move your GMail box is to use IMAPSync (or something alike, but IMAPSync is the best).

For the truly paranoids, you can even regularly backup all your mail from GMail to another IMAP server (say, your own Cyrus imapd), so you can't be taken by surprise when Google pulls the plug.

I think this is an excellent suggestion. You should not allow import data of yours to not be backed up under your own controll. Keep in mind that if you have sensitive info in your email, there is one more way for it to leak out, of course.

If you need to preserve "labels" and other structure of the mailbox, look into the script "imapsync". You can set that to run once a night; for speed, you might have it just look at emails newer than 10 days or something. It is available at http://www.linux-france.org/prj/imapsync/

GPL translations have always been awkward, they don't translate well into the local legal frameword. This new license is good because it's based on French laws rather than a french interpretation of US laws, and as an added bonus, if such a license is ever challenged in court, judges will take it more seriously if it's home-grown than if it's an "import" license.

Now, not being a lawyer and all, my question is: can a french developer use the CeCILL license as a drop-in replacement for the GPL? can he ship both licenses in a software product's tarball and consider both licenses equivalent in terms of rights they grant, in each country?

America needs to learn what an "entrepreneur" is too. Sorry for my rambling. America needs to stop crying and accept the change.

Because Palestinian officials resemble BSD's mascot.

Here, here, and here.

But why not one more? :-)

Windows XP is stored in tux

The winux name has been used before.

Veuillez voir ici et ici.

I routinely commute between Bangor, Maine and Washington D.C. once every week for work. The drive is long and uneventful usually, yes I know, but the scratch is decent. To keep myself from going insane, I'll usually catch some tunes on the radio stations that I like along the way or even listen to something out of my CD collection if I'm really bored. I-95 gets pretty dull once you're several hours into the drive, so I like to stop every four hours or so to stretch my legs, fill the car up with gas, and grab a bite to eat. I'm particularly fond of Friendly's, and stop there quite often as my company picks up the tab for all travel related expenses, plus compensation.

I decided to stop there one evening on the way back up to Bangor. The patty melt is usually pretty good and I mostly get that combo platter, but this time I decided to try the pastrami melt. It was generally satisfying. However, an hour into my resumed trip, I entered the Boston area and started to get a bit of rumbling in the bowels. I broke wind several times, but the gastrointestinal rumbling was getting so unbearable along with the stench, that I had to pull over at a Buck Horn Truck Stop. It was so bad,that I was barely able to hold the runny shit inside my bowels before I took down my boxers and let loose. The first wave of semi-solid feces was forced out by an explosive fire hose of runny turds and watery diarrhea, and I screamed in agony; butthole stinging from the festering shit water that was splashing back up onto my ass.

I recovered after several minutes of dabbing at my asshole with that crappy cheap non-quilted toilet paper, and eased my ass back into my pants as to buy some pepto bismol from the gift shop. The beast in my lower abdomen needed to be calmed before I got on the road again.

It's common for me to leave unflushed shit in the toilets that I use, as to make the life of whatever minimum wage loser that has to clean it up that much worse. This was a special occasion! The toilet was nearly ready to spill over. Perfection had been achieved, or so I thought.

Mere seconds after my retreat from the stinking commode, a rather stalky man with a huge beer gut barged into the bathroom like some drunken vagrant, stinking almost as badly as my unflushed Cosby Kids. Sporting a rather unkept greasy beard, he butted his half-smoked joint onto the piss soaked floor and crept up behind me while I was washing my hands. I did not get a decent look at what he had contained in his other hand, but no sooner did he rush up behind me and jammed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into the lower of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you to." he blurted out messily. "I'll kill you if you move, now drop your pants." "Look, man, you can have my wallet, I don't care. I won't report you, just don't kill me," I replied. The stalky man responded in a gruff "That ain't gonna cut it, drop your pants now." So I did as he asked. "Now take down the boxers too," he remarked.

"Oh god!" I thought to myself "I'm going to get raped in the ass at a fucking truck stop" and I did just as he asked. He prodded my already tender and sore asshole several times with the object he had jammed into my back, presumably the barrel of a pistol. I winced in pain, but dared not make noise. "Bend over, you're gonna take it hard like Linus does. Right in the sweet buttery cornhole. You're going to take it from me! The great RMS! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" I thought over and over again while I proceeded to bend over the sink, when I finally caught a glimpse of my assailant in the sink mirror. The son of a bitch was jamming the mouthpiece end of a fucking flute into my back and asshole. A FUCKING FLUTE! I quickly pulled my pants back up, and shoved the greasy fuck away from me. I quickly pulled my 4.5" serrated Gerber lockback knife out of my right pocket while the madman tooted away on the mouthpiece end of the defiled flute. Quickly dashing at him, I was able to subdue the rapist son of a bitch and grip him firmly by his long hippie scalp.

I held the knife to his throat and yelled "You fuck! It's time to eat shit!" I forced his fat head and person into the stall, down into the shit I had left in the commode minutes earlier. I recall the warmth of the shitbath being about lukewarm as I plunged his head multiple times into the crapper. "Nobody fucks with me on my fucking commute, you piece of shit!" I screamed at him as I kept dunking his head into the spoiled chunks and bacteria and finally applied a hefty blow to the base of his skull; leaving him passed out face down in my feces.

I left the truck stop after calmly purchasing a travel size bottle of pepto, downed the sucker, and eventually made it home in time to watch the conclusion of CHiPS.

If you have any further information on my assailant, I've
included an artist's rendering of him here

I routinely commute between Bangore, Maine and Washington D.C. once every week for work. The drive is long and uneventful usually, yes I know, but the scratch is decent. To keep myself from going insane, I'll usually catch some tunes on the radio stations that I like along the way or even listen to something out of my CD collection if I'm really bored. I-95 gets pretty dull once you're several hours into the drive, so I like to stop every four hours or so to strech my legs, fill the car up with gas, and grab a bite to eat. I'm particularly fond of Friendly's, and stop there quite often as my company picks up the tab for all travel related expenses, plus compensation.

I decided to stop there one evening on the way back up to Bangor. The patty melt is ususally pretty good and I mostly get that combo platter, but this time I decided to try the pastrami melt. It was generally satisfying. However, an hour into my resumed trip, I entered the Boston area and started to get a bit of rumbling in the bowels. I broke wind several times, but the gastro-intestinal rumbling was getting so unbearable along with the stench, that I had to pull over at a Buck Horn Truck Stop. It was so bad,that I was barely able to hold the runny shit inside my bowels before I took down my boxers and let loose. The first wave of semi-solid feces was forced out by an explosive firehose of runny turds and wattery diarreah, and I screamed in agony; butthole stinging from the festering shit water that was splashing back up onto my ass.

I recovered after several minutes of dabbing at my asshole with that crapy cheap non-quilted toilet paper, and eased my ass back into my pants as to buy some pepto bismol from the gift shop. The beast in my lower abdomen needed to be calmed before I got on the road again.

It's common for me to leave unflushed shit in the toilets that I use, as to make the life of whatever minimum wage loser that has to clean it up that much worse. This was a special occasion! The toilet was nearly ready to spill over. Perfection had been achieved, or so I thought.

Mere seconds after my retreat from the stinking commode, a rather stalky man with a huge beer gut barged into the bathroom like some drunken vagrant, stinking almost as badly as my unflushed Cosby Kids. Sporting a rather unkept greasy beard, he butted his half-smoked joint onto the piss soaked floor and crept up behind me while I was washing my hands. I did not get a decent look at what he had contained in his other hand, but no sooner did he rush up behind me and jammed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into the lower of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you to." he blurted out messily. "I'll kill you if you move, now drop your pants." "Look, man, you can have my wallet, I don't care. I won't report you, just don't kill me," I replied. The stalky man responded in a gruff "That ain't gonna cut it, drop your pants now." So I did as he asked. "Now take down the boxers too," he remarked.

"Oh god!" I thought to myself "I'm going to get raped in the ass at a fucking truck stop" and I did just as he asked. He prodded my already tender and sore asshole several times with the object he had jammed into my back, presumably the barrel of a pistol. I winced in pain, but dared not make noise. "Bend over, you're gonna take it hard like Linus does. Right in the sweet buttery cornhole. You're going to take it from me! The great RMS! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" I thought over and over again while I proceeded to bend over the sink, when I finally caught a glimpse of my assailant in the sink mirror. The son of a bitch was jamming the mouthpiece end of a fucking flute into my back and asshole. A FUCKING FLUTE! I quickly pulled my pants back up, and shoved the greasy fuck away from me. I quickly pulled my 4.5" serrated Gerber lockback knife out of my right pocket while the madman tooted away on the mouthpiece end of the defiled flute. Quickly dashing at him, I was able to subdue the rapist son of a bitch and grip him firmly by his long hippie scalp.

I held the knife to his throat and yelled "You fuck! It's time to eat shit!" I forced his fat head and person into the stall, down into the shit I had left in the commode miniutes earlier. I recall the warmth of the shitbath being about lukewarm as I plunged his head multiple times into the crapper. "Nobody fucks with me on my fucking commute, you piece of shit!" I screamed at him as I kept dunking his head into the spoiled chunks and bacteria and finally applied a hefty blow to the base of his skull; leaving him passed out face down in my feces.

I left the truck stop after calmly purchasing a travel size bottle of pepto, downed the sucker, and eventually made it home in time to watch the conclusion of CHiPS.

If you have any further information on my assailant, I've included an artist's rendering of him here

I routinely commute between Bangore, Maine and Washington D.C. once every week for work. The drive is long and uneventful usually, yes I know, but the
scratch is decent. To keep myself from going insane, I'll usually catch some tunes on the radio stations that I like along the way or even listen to something
out of my CD collection if I'm really bored. I-95 gets pretty dull once you're several hours into the drive, so I like to stop every four hours or so to strech my
legs, fill the car up with gas, and grab a bite to eat. I'm particularly fond of Friendly's, and stop there quite often as my company picks up the tab for all
travel related expenses, plus compensation.

I decided to stop there one evening on the way back up to Bangor. The patty melt is ususally pretty good and I mostly get that combo platter, but this time I
decided to try the pastrami melt. It was generally satisfying. However, an hour into my resumed trip, I entered the Boston area and started to get a bit of
rumbling in the bowels. I broke wind several times, but the gastro-intestinal rumbling was getting so unbearable along with the stench, that I had to pull
over at a Buck Horn Truck Stop. It was so bad,that I was barely able to hold the runny shit inside my bowels before I took down my boxers and let loose. The
first wave of semi-solid feces was forced out by an explosive firehose of runny turds and wattery diarreah, and I screamed in agony; butthole stinging from
the festering shit water that was splashing back up onto my ass.

I recovered after several minutes of dabbing at my asshole with that crapy cheap non-quilted toilet paper, and eased my ass back into my pants as to buy
some pepto bismol from the gift shop. The beast in my lower abdomen needed to be calmed before I got on the road again.

It's common for me to leave unflushed shit in the toilets that I use, as to make the life of whatever minimum wage loser that has to clean it up that much
worse. This was a special occasion! The toilet was nearly ready to spill over. Perfection had been achieved, or so I thought.

Mere seconds after my retreat from the stinking commode, a rather stalky man with a huge beer gut barged into the bathroom like some drunken vagrant,
stinking almost as badly as my unflushed Cosby Kids. Sporting a rather unkept greasy beard, he butted his half-smoked joint onto the piss soaked floor and
crept up behind me while I was washing my hands. I did not get a decent look at what he had contained in his other hand, but no sooner did he rush up
behind me and jammed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into the lower of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you to." he blurted out messily. "I'll kill you if
you move, now drop your pants." "Look, man, you can have my wallet, I don't care. I won't report you, just don't kill me," I replied. The stalky man
responded in a gruff "That ain't gonna cut it, drop your pants now." So I did as he asked. "Now take down the boxers too," he remarked.

"Oh god!" I thought to myself "I'm going to get raped in the ass at a fucking truck stop" and I did just as he asked. He prodded my already tender and sore
asshole several times with the object he had jammed into my back, presumably the barrel of a pistol. I winced in pain, but dared not make noise. "Bend over,
you're gonna take it hard like Linus does. Right in the sweet buttery cornhole. You're going to take it from me! The great RMS! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" I thought over and over again while I proceeded to bend over the sink, when I finally caught a glimpse of my assailant in the sink
mirror. The son of a bitch was jamming the mouthpiece end of a fucking flute into my back and asshole. A FUCKING FLUTE! I quickly pulled my pants
back up, and shoved the greasy fuck away from me. I quickly pulled my 4.5" serrated Gerber lockback knife out of my right pocket while the madman tooted
away on the mouthpiece end of the defiled flute. Quickly dashing at him, I was able to subdue the rapist son of a bitch and grip him firmly by his long hippie
scalp.

I held the knife to his throat and yelled "You fuck! It's time to eat shit!" I forced his fat head and person into the stall, down into the shit I had left in the
commode miniutes earlier. I recall the warmth of the shitbath being about lukewarm as I plunged his head multiple times into the crapper. "Nobody fucks
with me on my fucking commute, you piece of shit!" I screamed at him as I kept dunking his head into the spoiled chunks and bacteria and finally applied a
hefty blow to the base of his skull; leaving him passed out face down in my feces.

I left the truck stop after calmly purchasing a travel size bottle of pepto, downed the sucker, and eventually made it home in time to watch the conclusion of
CHiPS.

If you have any further information on my assailant, I've included an artist's rendering of him here

Yup, here it is. It's a graphical configuration interface for the LOADLIN bootloader. It also has multi-language support including English, French, German, Italian and Spanish.

IF indeed Ol' Billy Boy was worried about a trademark, why haven't they taken on the equally violating Winux?
Mark my words, this is just the first of many legal potholes that will be put in the way of Lindows developement (or any other similar product) by M$.

Yes, Iknow this is partially flamebait, but the point is valid.

I routinely commute between Bangore, Maine and Washington D.C. once every week for work. The drive is long and uneventful usually, yes I know, but the scratch is decent. To keep myself from going insane, I'll usually catch some tunes on the radio stations that I like along the way or even listen to something out of my CD collection if I'm really bored. I-95 gets pretty dull once you're several hours into the drive, so I like to stop every four hours or so to strech my legs, fill the car up with gas, and grab a bite to eat. I'm particularly fond of Friendly's, and stop there quite often as my company picks up the tab for all travel related expenses, plus compensation.

I decided to stop there one evening on the way back up to Bangor. The patty melt is ususally pretty good and I mostly get that combo platter, but this time I decided to try the pastrami melt. It was generally satisfying. However, an hour into my resumed trip, I entered the Boston area and started to get a bit of rumbling in the bowels. I broke wind several times, but the gastro-intestinal rumbling was getting so unbearable along with the stench, that I had to pull over at a Buck Horn Truck Stop. It was so bad,that I was barely able to hold the runny shit inside my bowels before I took down my boxers and let loose. The first wave of semi-solid feces was forced out by an explosive firehose of runny turds and wattery diarreah, and I screamed in agony; butthole stinging from the festering shit water that was splashing back up onto my ass.

I recovered after several minutes of dabbing at my asshole with that crapy cheap non-quilted toilet paper, and eased my ass back into my pants as to buy some pepto bismol from the gift shop. The beast in my lower abdomen needed to be calmed before I got on the road again.

It's common for me to leave unflushed shit in the toilets that I use, as to make the life of whatever minimum wage loser that has to clean it up that much worse. This was a special occasion! The toilet was nearly ready to spill over. Perfection had been achieved, or so I thought.

Mere seconds after my retreat from the stinking commode, a rather stalky man with a huge beer gut barged into the bathroom like some drunken vagrant, stinking almost as badly as my unflushed Cosby Kids. Sporting a rather unkept greasy beard, he butted his half-smoked joint onto the piss soaked floor and crept up behind me while I was washing my hands. I did not get a decent look at what he had contained in his other hand, but no sooner did he rush up behind me and jammed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into the lower of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you to." he blurted out messily. "I'll kill you if you move, now drop your pants." "Look, man, you can have my wallet, I don't care. I won't report you, just don't kill me," I replied. The stalky man responded in a gruff "That ain't gonna cut it, drop your pants now." So I did as he asked. "Now take down the boxers too," he remarked.

"Oh god!" I thought to myself "I'm going to get raped in the ass at a fucking truck stop" and I did just as he asked. He prodded my already tender and sore asshole several times with the object he had jammed into my back, presumably the barrel of a pistol. I winced in pain, but dared not make noise. "Bend over, you're gonna take it hard like Linus does. Right in the sweet buttery cornhole. You're going to take it from me! The great RMS! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" I thought over and over again while I proceeded to bend over the sink, when I finally caught a glimpse of my assailant in the sink mirror. The son of a bitch was jamming the mouthpiece end of a fucking flute into my back and asshole. A FUCKING FLUTE! I quickly pulled my pants back up, and shoved the greasy fuck away from me. I quickly pulled my 4.5" serrated Gerber lockback knife out of my right pocket while the madman tooted away on the mouthpiece end of the defiled flute. Quickly dashing at him, I was able to subdue the rapist son of a bitch and grip him firmly by his long hippie scalp.

I held the knife to his throat and yelled "You fuck! It's time to eat shit!" I forced his fat head and person into the stall, down into the shit I had left in the commode miniutes earlier. I recall the warmth of the shitbath being about lukewarm as I plunged his head multiple times into the crapper. "Nobody fucks with me on my fucking commute, you piece of shit!" I screamed at him as I kept dunking his head into the spoiled chunks and bacteria and finally applied a hefty blow to the base of his skull; leaving him passed out face down in my feces.

I left the truck stop after calmly purchasing a travel size bottle of pepto, downed the sucker, and eventually made it home in time to watch the conclusion of CHiPS.

If you have any further information on my assailant, I've included an artist's rendering of him here

Without the restrictions of the PC hard disk partitionning scheme, Macs can easily host two, three or more OSes on one disk. On my Powerbook G3 Pismo, I currently run Debian GNU/Linux, MacOS 9.0.4 and MacOS X Public Beta. All three co-exist peacefully on my machine.

As a long-time Debian fanatic, I decided that this was the way to go on the PowerPC as well. I haven't tried LinuxPPC, mainly for the reason that their disk images are in Mac self-mounting-image format, and the only burners I have access to are running on Windows boxes, but mostly, I'm just really impressed with Debian. It runs absolutely smoothly once you install XFree86 4.0.2 (if you use 3.3.6, you're stuck with framebuffer graphics).

For those interested in trying it out on their own Powerbooks, here's a link to the instructions you need, in French. You can use BabelFish to translate if you don't speak French, though I have no idea how good the translation will be. If you want X, upgrade to Woody then get the XFree86 4.0.2 debs (they're on the FTP sites in the /debian/pool/main/x/xfree86 directory) and you're set.

Once I recompiled the kernel to my liking, the system has been the best Linux box I've ever had. The only thing that could be better is if the Helix guys would release PowerPC debs of Helix Gnome...

Anyway, as I say, what's to stop anyone from using both Linux and MacOS X? When I want down-to-earth Linuxy Goodness, I use Debian, when I want snazzy graphics, Mac Apps, and a really funky IDE for some Objective-C Goodness, I use MacOS X. Both environments have their advantages and disadvantages.

I like being able to fine-tune and fiddle with my system, as Darwin evolves, and as more and more software becomes Darwin compatible (a LOT already is) I admit I will probably use Linux less, but it'll always have a place on my drive.