Puppet is a cross-platform system for managing machines. It can manage files, packages, users and anything else that needs managing. The system is composed of a puppetd daemon process running on a client machine, which periodically connects to a remote puppetmaster to download its configuration and apply it. All communication and file transfers between the client and puppetmaster are done via XML/RPC over SSL.

If you'd like to know more about what else puppet can do or how it works, reductivelabs has an excellent introduction. This article will instead focus on how to set up an environment for measuring the throughput of the puppetmaster.

This form will generate a syntactically correct getconfig request that can be sent to a puppetmaster. The request is useful for benchmarking applications that are not ruby-based.

I recently began charting the freefall of the Gentoo Linux distribution. The project peaked in 2003 but has been in steady decline since Daniel Robbins got up from the captains chair. The release history on distrowatch gives a good 30-thousand foot view, showing that the 2008.0 release that recently shipped was the end of a 14 month dry spell since the previous release. In nearly the same time frame the tireless Ubuntu machine continued churning through its 6-month release cycle and shipped two major updates. Even Gentoo Is For Ricers, the preferred depot for anti-gentoo sentiment, has maintained a reverent silence on gentoos inability to get updates out the door.

The course was a .7 mile loop around 4 blocks in a residential neighborhood in Milwaukee. There was a mean but not overly nasty hill coming up to the start-finish, headwinds on all 4 stretches, and lots of potholes, recessed manholes, and other sorts of chop in the turns. Our race was a little over an hour at 40 laps.

I really enjoyed today. It was hard for almost the entire race and there were about 5 laps in the middle where I was riding all-out to close a 3 foot gap that didn't ever seem to get smaller. Our number had been decimated by the time we came into the finish, but I still got smoked in the last 200 meters to finish 21st.

Getting picked apart on the final lap is a good summary of my time at Superweek. I feel like my best ability right now is squeezing into narrow spaces, and, sometimes, going uphill. At least I know where I should be directing my efforts. I'm ending the series short of my goal at 17th overall, a number that should worsen tomorrow when I'm getting on a plane instead of flogging the Pale Horse in Whitefish Bay, but I think that I am, overall, pleased with the way that the series has gone.

That wraps up Superweek '07. I'm a little sad to go back. I've come to enjoy talking strangers into letting me sleep in their homes, though living out of a rental car kind of sucks and with the exception of Lordi, I'm tired of listening to the same stuff everyday.

I stayed in Sheboygan for supper with some friends after yesterdays races. Apparently nobody eats dinner out here, though they make up for it with lots and lots of supper. I left early to start my drive to Pleasant Prairie 2 hours south where I was going to be staying with some surly vegans, and ran into a summer storm along the way. The fastest freeway speed that wasn't utterly reckless was about 15mph and I had to pull over a few times because I couldn't see through all the rain. I thought it was epic weather but some native midwesterners made me feel like a cityslicker when I told them my not very harrowing story this morning.

I don't really have anything constructive to say regarding the race today. I think I did everything right, was 2nd wheel with 2 laps to go, but got hammered anyways and finished with a whimper rather than the bang I had envisioned. I'm California trash.

I'm spending the next 2 nights near Kenosha with some Organic Athlete guys, the surly ones mentioned above. They applied for host housing from the race promoters and are set up in a cavern of a basement with a friendly family upstairs. I'm in the basement right now. Sometimes one of the people upstairs will come down to get something out of a cabinet or do a load of laundry and I feel like I'm in a gang of squatter prostitutes that has infected a decent home. I'm going to go upstairs tonight and see if I can chat them up a little.

Tomorrow! My last race before turning in. Brewers Hill -- I hear it's like Cats Hill back home. I hope to have sunnier news next afternoon.