Founasse Bin Gulari should pretend her beneath the increase
Cmdr. Ralph Mansker
Trimming off the rest of this post is unnecessary.
I will guarantee anonymity except in cases of blatant abuse.
I will achieve anonymity by tallying the results in
uncorrelated tabulations and then deleting the emails.
(I know this loses interesting correlation data, but if
resondents want anonymity it's hard to avoid.)
I know that this anonymity promise depends on trust and that
you have no particular reason to trust me. Someday, I hope.
I will post results Saturday.
xxxxxxxx beginning of survey xxxxxxxx
yes( ) ( )no Should RoadRunner be subjected to some kind of UDP?
yes( ) ( )no ... active UDP (cancels) ?
yes( ) ( )no ... passive UDP (drop messages) ?
yes( ) ( )no ... all-groups UDP? (as opposed to specific groups)
yes( ) ( )no Are you a Usenet sysadmin? How big:_ How long:_
yes( ) ( )no Should another server be subjected to UDP? Who:_
yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used more often?
yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used less often?
yes( ) ( )no Would you have answered this survey without anonymity?
xxxxxxxx end of survey xxxxxxxx
--
girls,
which I ripped off and tossed into the waste paper basket.
As I undressed and tumbled into my bunk I knew that I
would be able to carry out my duties.
"Time up!" yelled a voice, and a hand opened the door
and flicked on the light switch. "Time already?" I thought
to myself. Why, it seemed that I had barely got to sleep.
I glanced at my watch, and rolled out. A wash, dressed,
and I was on my way to breakfast. The Mess was deserted
now, and I ate alone and quickly. With a glance outside
at the first streaks of light across the side, I hurried down
the steel ladders to the engine room. "You're punctual,"
said the Second Engineer. "That I like. Nothing to report
except that there are two greasers in the tunnel. Oh well,
I'm going," he said, yawning heavily.
The engines thudded on rhythmically, monotonously,
every revolution bringing us nearer to New York. Outside
in the stokehold the "black-gang" tended their fires, raking
and slicing, keeping the head of steam just short of the red
line. From out of the tunnel housing the propeller shaft
two sweat-stained and dirty men emerged. Fortune was
with me, bearing temperatures were normal, there was
nothing to report. Grubby papers were shoved at me, coal
consumed, C02 percentages, and other data. I signed, sat
down, and wrote up the Engine Room Log for my watch.
"How she doin' Mister?" said Mac as he came clattering
down the companionway.
"All right," I answered. "Everything normal."
"Good," said Mac. "I wish I could make that -
111
Captain normal. He says we used too much coal last trip.
What should I do? Tell him to row the ship . He sighed,
put on steel-framed glasses, read the Log and signed it.
The ship forged on through the rough Atlantic. Day
followed day in monotonous sameness. This was not a
happy ship, the Deck Officers sneered at the Engine staff.
The Ca