Lost: One brown and orange mojo
I still can't quite get over the speed of Ubuntu's fall from grace. One moment the distro was the darling of all things Linux desktop and could do little wrong, the next it was being derided in many circles, with users signalling their displeasure in the harshest way possible, by jumping ship to the likes of Mint, Fedora, Arch and (irony of ironies) Debian.
The distro had become the dominant Linux desktop by some distance when Unity was released. It was a stunning change, fresh and innovative in many ways, but for many brought too many unhelpful and unwanted changes. It came with a new focus on convergence with mobile and an overbearing attitude, both of which clearly rubbed many users up the wrong way. For example, the position of the in-your-face launcher bar couldn't be changed (it was a Linux desktop FFS, not Apple), settings in dialog boxes became so simplified that some became downright unusable (IIRC the available screen lock periods jumped from "After 10 minutes of inactivity" to "After 30"). There were many other small, but often irritating changes that all added up to a frustrating experience and often caused one to attempt to route around the dumbed-down UI completely by going directly to config files, something that rather undermined the very case for having a graphical desktop.
Mark Shuttleworth got exasperated on his blog and rounded on the Unity critics, telling them that the project's research had demonstrated that their designers were right and that the critics were wrong. Informing upset users that their preferences and feelings are objectively incorrect, and that they should just get over their issues, is always a high risk strategy. Predictably, for many users that strategy went down about as well as a fart in a spacesuit and from that point on you could hear the sound of the feet of the disillusioned, exiting the auditorium.
Then came the fiasco with sending search queries to Amazon. Privacy has always been a first class, non-negotiable concern for, well, pretty much every Linux desktop user I'd ever met. At this stage I concluded that those overseeing the development of Ubuntu had rather lost the plot. The "but you can disable it in the UI" arguments failed to wash; a cardinal rule had been broken, a red line crossed. This particular development made me realise, if I hadn't before, that Ubuntu's developers had broken with traditional Linux culture and were off down a path of their own. I wished them luck, remained excited and intrigued with many of the project's goals, but wasn't prepared to compromise my desktop to stay on board.